I can't stay here. I have to leave and go somewhere. I don't feel safe. My former friend, Teresa, who continuously deceived me all those many months with no explanation and no remorse is now a visiter next door, and still deceptive and devious. She can slip past my bedroom window if the shade is down. It's fun for her.
Some people may think that I made this relationship up out of my imagination. Well one day about 2 years ago I was walking down the street with my cane. She stopped me and asked if she could drive me somewhere. I allowed her to take me the two blocks I was going. Then she offered to take me around when I needed to go somewhere. That began a relationship that lasted for almost 2 years during which once or twice a week she would take me to the supermarket, the mall, the post office, wherever I needed to go. She was always pleasant, gracious and good humored. She helped me with the seat belt, helped me in and out of the car, made sure I had a quarter for the shopping cart and helped me up to my door with the bags of groceries. Twice she came through freezing cold weather to bring me Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. What's not to love? She captured my heart. I began to think of her as a daughter. We were friends. She was my only friend in this town. I started to think about things I could do for her that might please her and be useful. I even once thought that if I sold my novels and made enough money I would buy her and her husband a house, since she so much admired the houses on the street.
Then one day I discovered that she was coming back to the house, sneaking past me in various ways to buy drugs from the dope dealer next door to me. If I was sitting on the front porch she would climb through his bedroom window. She would allow him to muscle me and insult me so that I would stay out of the way. Even after I knew from her what she was doing she kept doing it. It meant I wasn't worthy, admirable or respected enough to share in an important part of her life even if I was living next door to it. She had to deceive me. That stuck a knife in my heart. In truth, I don't know how she's going to live with it for the rest of her life.
So I moved to my new place to get away from it all, but it has followed me here.
I can t tell you how painful and frightening it is for me. Knowing, or even suspecting, that she's here brings back all the broken heart and feeling of humiliation and unimportance. The other night she met him in the car in the parking lot underneath my window to avoid seeing me. She doesn't care. I almost walked out there just to catch a glimpse of her, but I thought it might frighten her, so I didn't. Why should I love and care so much for her. There are those who tell me she's not worth it. Perhaps they're right. New wine must be put into new bottles. Teresa, I never judged you for your interest in drugs, although I would rather see a healthier activity for you. I only judged you for deceiving me. Since you probably won't read this and have blocked my emails and won't take my phone calls you don't even know you might have been forgiven. But when you are an attractive woman in your thirties it seems drugs are more important than an old man's heart.
There was something beautiful about our friendship. It was based on pure, deep, innocent affection. When I leave here I will never see you again, and you will never see me again, and that beautiful part that was cherished will be forever lost. Is that the right answer?
Dana Bate - The Vagabond
Never Give Up