"UnReal-estate" unedited

As the snows went away with the arrival of spring the business of eviction began keeping Danny and I busy with apartment clean-outs and slum-lord requests for sub-standard repairs once again. When I went to the loft to meet up with him, the building maintenance guy from the ground floor business mentioned a power failure issue that they needed to have fixed as soon as possible. My question was, why Dan Doyle wasn’t there to tend to it, being that he was the person who handled their electrical issues in the past?That’s when I got the news about Mandy, Dan Doyle’s oldest child.

Dan was not available due to his incapacitation over the fact that Mandy had been found dead of an overdose in her apartment. If that wasn’t bad enough, a guy was found in the room with her child, with his pants missing. It was obvious that he had been inappropriately handling Mandy also, according to the police reports. It may be that he didn’t know she had overdosed, assuming her to be merely unconscious, when he took advantage of her. 

My legs immediately buckled and I fell straight to the ground, suddenly sick in my stomach, puking and groaning in sheer disgust and disbelief. I spent the rest of the day trying to not drink yet understand what had happened to the young woman I had worked with, whom was so eager to learn the Carpentry trade, and was so thankful for her sobriety and getting her kids back in her life.

Mandy was just thirteen when I’d met her. Her mother, Lynn, had died in the arms of Mandy’s father, after crashing the motorcycle that they had been riding. Mandy was a teenage mother. She got knocked up before her sixteenth birthday. And now, less than a year out of jail, she has been found dead. The last time that I saw her she and a girlfriend, that shared her apartment, had ran into Billy and I, after working on a porch rebuilding project for Salih. We spoke with them outside of a liquor store, in Grand Rapids, called The Bottle House. This was near Madison and South Division. They were asking Bill to purchase booze for them.

It was odd that they would be on South Division, where it was known for a great deal of drug and prostitution activity after sundown, but I dismissed it without much suspicion. Her person was one that was full of life and everyone loved her. She was spunky and she was beautiful in every way. I can still see her dimples and teeth on her bright smiling face.

That morning, I wondered if her father wasn’t being dealt his grief- karma at play for spending our money, from the log home belonging to Mark and Connie, when he bought the Harley Davidson Fat boy. Even still, I went to Dan’s home to express my sympathy that evening.

Dan was on his back, lying on the couch in a catatonic state. Saying nothing, I went to his side, knelt down and held his hands in mine. A few moments later I left him in the silence and never saw him again. I drove away, still crippled with the reality and sickness in my heart, while I agonizing over how could this have happened. All I could think of was that Dan’s wrong doing brought this on. That’s just how I felt at the time. I kept thinking that he could have prevented this but that his selfishness, and his greed, made it happen. I couldn’t help but to blame him. Wrong as it may or may not have been- that was how I felt.

In the meantime, I was oblivious to my own selfishness and greed, and continued digging deep at what was shaping up to be my own grave. The clock was ticking and no one would be prepared. Julie searched for a home that met Casey’s demands while the spring was progressing in winter’s demise.

A house was found that met all the criteria, which led to scrambling for boxes at liquor stores to move with. Kenny suddenly became too busy to assist the family, and Casey refused to help- still in a state of which no one on earth can understand except for a fourteen-year-old girl. 
What she needed was a paddling, the kind that breaks blood vessels in a father’s hand. This is a crucial moment that can’t be overlooked but the idea is to properly invest in a kid from birth, not from their teens. By then there is little hope.    

Chapter

While her mom wilted away, Julie continued making plans to consolidate households, with me there to take on whatever burdens came along. Only Julie knew what was going on with the bills. The payments had not been made on the home- but that was presumably in her ex-husbands name, in anticipation of relocating. The bank eventually foreclosed as things came to a head. Luckily, Julie had a real estate agent involved that she went to school with- a stoner buddy from the past who helped her along in the process from behind the scenes. Within a few weeks she was able to find a home that would work for her.

 The house was on the bus route for school, had three bedrooms and an office, upper and lower level living quarters, large kitchen and dining area, fireplace, two stall garage with a third stall for a boat/utility or as a service bay, lawn sprinkler system, fenced in rear yard, seasonal porch, hot-tub, and it was right on the White Pine Trail.

We began moving in before the occupants could get out, filling their garage with her belongings. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a team effort. It seemed like I was spearheading the whole thing. I gathered up boxes and packed away everything that would fit in them. Casey had been continuously refusing to help do anything at all. Julie was not at all responding to the situation like a person who had to move. She was more of an invalid, as if she had no idea what to do, had never moved before, and never even been in a dwelling. It was almost as if she was on Earth for the first time but that was all part of the act to get my monkey to sing and dance… and it did, just not enough to beat the clock.

My words were that they needed to help, and of refusing to be the fool in the scenario but there I was doing everything like a good slave. Now, I wonder if she really had the ability to cast a spell, it seems she had me in one because there was not enough I could do in giving my all.

We moved the items using, both, her truck and mine, just the two of us. Since the new place was only three miles away, door to door, it was easier than it could have been. At the end of the second day of hauling furniture and boxes of crap, we went back for more only to find the house had been locked up tight by the mortgage holder. Julie got on the phone only to find out that the things left in the house did not need to be moved out any longer. They had placed everything in the dumpsters. She was now going to have to fetch them from the receptacles, which wouldn’t really be a big deal. I mean, who looks out of place diving in dumpsters at a trailer park in a bad economy? That wasn’t a big deal.

What was a big deal was that it was now pouring rain and way after sundown. Since she was the boss, in effect, my suggestions to work all night had been dismissed. Now I was hated for being in the position to say many things, one was, “I told you so”, and two was, "this is what we need to do". 
 The biggest part of it was that most of what was in the dumpster was Casey’s belongings. We had worked at packing and moving everything else in the home, leaving her things to be packed up by her. Of course, she maintained the stance that she was not going to help, and she didn’t. Much of it looked so much like garbage that it was hard to distinguish which of it was hers. It was a terrible chore. At one point I got in and watched from the cab of my truck, I’d had enough. My suggestion to get Casey to do it fell on deaf ears. Julie was not about to display that she had no authority, again. And although I kept saying that I refused to be the fool, I could not remove myself from this grave out of my own selfishness and compromised wit- my personal motives. After all I had been through it was just another difficulty, right? I maintained hope even though my own faults made it lessened. Neither of us were ever apologized to or thanked for what was dealt with or what was done.

While unpacking at 5904 Alcove Drive, I began to see that things were not all roses in the previous family’s lives. Money troubles were clearly indicated by many things. The sprinkler system was intentionally disabled, causing the yard to turn to a brown patchy mess- the only yard like it in the neighborhood. The hot tub was disabled. Doorstops on the master bedroom and master bath were ripped loose from the slamming of doors, which revealed fighting between the husband and wife. This was not a big surprise, given the fact that this was a time when there was a huge job loss in the West Michigan area.

Many of the jobs were outsourced to other countries with a significant pay difference. People were selling their homes and having to move back in with their elderly parents, in some cases, after already having downsized to smaller homes and liquidating their assets. Some took up the lesser paying jobs in retail and fast food, for the sake of keeping an income of some sort, which displaced the younger people who routinely took and depended on those jobs. This was a whole new aspect of the game- cutting the throats of our young to survive. That’s exactly what happened, much like when Sea Lions abandon their young, leaving them to starve to death while they try to find food to survive and breed again. So, quite simply put, the reality is that the young people are being extorted. Here I was seeing the sign of the times, instead of hearing about it.

My job was now tending the property, addressing those things that were in need of service or restoration, like the tub, sprinkler, interior repairs, water softener, and lots of other odds and ends. There was a scar in the back yard from a pool that I hid by putting a garden in, using eight loads of dirt from a supplier by the Grand River on Coit Avenue.

The tub quickly burnt up, having not been in service for who knows how long. The wires were brittle causing an electrical fire in the control box that ran the tub system. Under the scrutiny and dismay from the pool and spa store, I rebuilt the unit, which was a four hundred dollar repair that only cost me time and a fifty-dollar component. I was full of pride over that one. It all seemed so glorious, my finding myself in a home and a lifestyle to which my skilled trade had me accustomed to being in, and the neighborhood that any man would be proud to be a part of. 
The amenities and prospects of having my kids back in my life was becoming more of a reality with every breath. Everything was finally coming together.

As payment for doing all of the work on the property, and all of the domestic chores, and full-time care and companionship for Jean, Julie paid for an attorney to handle suing for my so-called visitation rights to be enforced. This began the process I had been anticipating so much.

On my birthday, she offered to do something special for me but out of pure mercy I only asked for some boiled eggs because I knew how scatter-brained and challenged she was that I only wanted my request to be simple. My fear of receiving grief later had motivated my choice and was an easy solution to her offer without rejecting her, I thought anyway.

Well, since smoking pot was such a priority, the water all boiled out of the pan. What gave an indication of a problem in the kitchen were the small explosions that sounded like little balloons being popped from where we were in the lower level of the house. The air was soon flooded with the smell of burned chicken feathers. If you have ever had a chicken brush up against a wood stove you’d know what I’m talking about. Some smells leave a dent in your memory. We went to the kitchen and saw the mess. It looked like the eggs had all jumped out of the pan. The cathedral ceiling was plastered with egg yolk. Being that the ceiling was finished with a “crows foot” style texture with no sealer coat of paint, it was impossible to clean off without damaging the unfinished finish. I am sure the yolk stain is on it still. It’s the thought that counts, so I am told.

 A week later, she bought me an old fishing boat with a trailer. It was a hundred-fifty dollar boat that she paid eight hundred for. We put it in the water and used it that day. The next day I returned to Bruce’s Holler, where it was moored, to go fishing again but found her sunk. The guys helped me bail it out, saved from sinking completely by the rocks under her, and four hours later I got her running, taking her over to the boat launch to get the vessel back home. It had so many pinholes in it that it could have been a screen door, colander, and Flour sifter- anything other than a boat. Again, it’s the thought that counts but it should have been the thought that maybe I was being used in every way possible but then again it wasn’t really her money- it was her mom and dad’s. I let it all ride and buried myself in caring for Jean, out of loyalty to her, and the fact that I had no place to go where my prospects would be much better. Here, I was on my way to being on top of things with having a shop, tools, my truck, and in a position to rebuild my business.

 My identity was almost back. I almost had my children back. Now, I rationalized that the deeds I was doing were righteous. I felt a great sense of purpose.

Julie made the decision to purchase a real estate license in hopes of an easy income. As smart as she tried to be, she fell victim to another heavily used sales pitch used on a desperate society. Those who had a couple grand bought into an empty promise, only getting a piece of paper and a fantasy of not needing coupons to live. Truth is Grand Rapids has enough salesmen, especially Realtors.