I’m tired, both emotionally and physically.
Carson and I had been an “item” for awhile, in case you’re just tuning in. We spent a lot of time together.
I was terribly hurt when, after zero discussion between us, he unilaterally and abruptly decided to move to Vietnam. His only explanation was that Vietnam is a very accommodating venue to budding entrepreneurs. Having made the decision on his own to leave Middle Valley, he invited me, with essentially no notice, to accompany him in relocating to Vietnam and starting over.
I declined, though politely as Mother would recommend. He did not try to convince me to go with him, nor did he give me any time to think about this drastic move.
Instead, he gave me money and the deed to his house, instructing me to sell it.
Then he was gone. He did not wait for me. We would have to handle any paperwork remotely, he had said. That was it.
What was wrong with him?
As much as I care for him, there is no way I would consider moving to Vietnam with him, let alone with no notice.
My phone rings. It’s Shirley reporting in on the status of her attempt to sell Carson’s house. “No luck, no action,” she says.
The potential buyers had come across body pieces and blood as they toured the house. Somehow, that word had gotten out.
“How about if we reduce the asking price?” Shirley asks. “I’ve been selling properties for a long time and have never run into anything like this. This may be a really tough sell.”
“Yes, let’s reduce the price,” I hear myself say “I don’t really give a damn how much Carson gets for it. You can decide how much to reduce the price.”
Then Shirley blasts off to another planet.
“I’ve decided to run for mayor in the upcoming election,” she says. “I feel that, between my family’s long-time local business connections and my extensive experience in real estate, I am well known and hopefully well respected in Middle Valley so I thought I’d give it a shot.”
Am I really hearing this?
“I would like to have your support and, especially, I’d love for you to manage my campaign. I’d have a formidable opponent in Wanda Moreno but, with help from you and others that I know, I think we might be able to pull it off. What do you think?”
What do I think? My lover of nearly a year runs off to Vietnam and she asks … what do I think?
“You certainly will have my support, but let me think about it overnight and I’ll get back to you,” I say. “I am flattered to be asked and will certainly give it serious thought.”
And then there’s the note from Bernie.
“Dinner this Sunday?” he asks.
Can’t everyone just leave me alone?
Jenny Page