Monday, July 13, 2009

Sometimes I Feel Like Somebody's Watching Me.

Hey listen, I apologize now. I'm sorry ok? All's I can say is that I thought it was over (no not my opening line in the Chan 4 news broadcast) come on let's get serious here.

But no, seriously, I thought the incident was done. "This will happen never again." "Done with! That's the way these things go right?" "We're moving on".

Do you still blame me?

On July 10th I was nearly as over it as you can be. This was four days later and I was more than anxious for life to get back to some sort of semblance of normality.

At work that day, I couldn't help but think of anything else except for the fact that within just a matter of hours this was going to be the first chance since the attack that I would finally get a chance to pull back a coupla beers and just chill with Matilda and Allen in our new apartment. We'd drink some beers. We'd crack the occasional joke about someone breaking in. Ha ha ha.

"Get some movies too, take your time, I'll be fine". Matilda yelled as Allen and I were fastidiously on our way out the door.

Fast forward about 15 minutes after I had hit Giant and the nights libations had been secured... as I'm filling out a Block Buster application I received a call from Matilda saying that two burly black men had come to our door at 7:30 at night.

"It has to be those guys from the apartment complex that are there to install the locks on the windows". I preached in good faith might I add.

"Nope, already called the apartment complex". Came the reply.

"We'll be there in 2 minutes". I said as I crumpled up the Block Buster application.

It was right then as I stepped out of the Block Buster door and laid one foot onto the sidewalk that I saw the the dirtbag that robbed me.

It was something about his walk, his slight strut to the right hand side with this overwhelming air of intimidation. It was those dangling dreaded braids that I remembered so clearly before I pulled poor Allen into the truck and told him with a shaking voice that I was sure it was the guy that robbed me.

Soon thereafter, when they told me that they knew who he was and that the dog had lost his scent just a block away from where he lived. I grew more furious by the second.

Three days later, after lost sleep and brutalized nerves for the entire weekend, I've learned that the two guys who felt totally inclined to come to our door that night were more than likely related to the case. The two guys that I thought had followed me to Block Buster were probably not.

Damn. I look back and aside from the boxes that line our living space, this is a reminder of where we are at now. The message for tonight is to trust your instincts but don't trust them too much to make you paranoid.

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