Moving day wasn’t too big of a deal. It was just a couple suitcases, a few boxes of Jarrod’s toys, and a few other boxes of toiletries and pilfered kitchenware from my parents’ house. I was excited. The place was adorable. The front door led right into a kitchen with a small table and two chairs and off of that was the main room with two beds, and a bathroom beyond that. There was one good sized closet, but no laundry. I could live with that. Not far in Pacific Grove there was a very clean laundromat that connected to a cafe/bookstore. I had been there once with a friend and while her clothes dried we had coffee and read books.
The one downside to our new little place was the front door. It was solid glass. The exact kind you find in business establishments. It made no sense and there was no curtain or shade. The door was situated in such a way that no one could see in unless they were actually coming to the door, but it still bothered me. The day after moving in I went to Cost Plus and bought a paper shade and figured out a way to hang it in front of the glass so we would have complete privacy while in the kitchen. It was the shade that prompted the first knock on my door. I peered out to see Mr. Roper standing there.
In his rough and gravelly voice he asked, “What’s that?”
“It’s a shade,” I answered.
“Well, I know what it is, but why is it there?” he asked.
“Because the door is glass and I don’t feel comfortable with it,” I answered.
“Well, why?” he asked. I couldn’t believe the conversation I was having. My heart was sinking. I knew right then and there that I couldn’t live behind this asshole. He couldn’t understand why I put a shade up?
He said, “No one can see in that door.”
Finally, I said, “I’m the one living here and I have to feel comfortable.”
He turned and walked away mumbling under his breath as he left.
It was the beginning of the end. Within the week I had started searching the classifieds again. Allow me to give you a sampling of why:
He looked out his back window at me almost every single time I came and went.
He yelled at Jarrod for being too noisy while playing on our patio. The third time I yelled back at him and told him he was not to speak to my son that way.
One Sunday morning I was sitting on the patio with a girlfriend and we were having mimosas. He walked out and told me that it was in the signed rental agreement that I couldn’t have parties. I said, “I’m not having a party, I’m having a friend over. Are you saying I can’t have a friend over?” Again, the turning away and mumbling under his breath.
Another day my toilet overflowed. Not wanting to deal with him, I called a plumber. Of course Mr. Roper came right over to see what was going on. The plumber pulled an ugly crystal nightlight out of the toilet. Mr. Roper said, “Is that yours?” I told him I had never seen it before in my life and that it must have belonged to the previous tenant. He grumbled that he would go and get his checkbook. When he came back he told me he would split the cost with me. I tried to argue that I shouldn’t have to pay, but then I decided it wasn’t worth it. I wrote my check for $35.00 and then he asked me if I would write his for him because of his eyesight. I did that, he signed the check, and then he asked me to record it. He had a balance of over $65,000.
I once had an overnight guest that I thought I did a very good job of sneaking in to the house. The next morning there was a note tucked into the front door telling me I owed him $10.00. It was in the rental agreement.
There was only one week of peace in that place. It coincided with my second month of rent being due so I knocked on his front door. The girlfriend opened it about an inch. I had only seen a glimpse of her and we had never been introduced.
I said, “Is Mr. Roper here? I have the rent check.”
She said, “No,” and not kindly.
I said, “I haven’t seen him around for a few days.”
She said, “He’s in the hospital,” and before I could say I was sorry or inquire she added, “He’s not going to die.”
He didn’t die. He came back in time for me to tell him I was leaving on the very day I was leaving. I was supposed to give him 30-days notice but I had no intention of giving notice because I wasn’t sure how he would react in the time leading up to my leaving. He came outside to see what was going on and I told him I was leaving. He didn’t seem surprised. He just wanted to know why.
I said, “Do you really have to ask?”
And then he shocked me with, “I really like you, Jodee. You’re a good girl and you have a sweet little boy.”
I said, “What?! How would I know that? You were not nice to us at all!”
And then he turned around and walked away mumbling to himself.