Ripples

A while back (a couple of years, anyway), we had what the kids have dubbed "The Home Invasion".  

Sit back, relax, and I shall relate.

I had a gig with the band in Ft. Wayne, Indiana.  I opted to let the kids stay home because it wasn't going to be a long trip - literally drive up from Redneck Central one day, perform the next day, head home the third day.  A grind.  I don't mind long drives and quick turn-arounds, but it's a bit much for the kids to endure, so I asked my friend A to come hang with 'em while I was gone, and when the time came, I hauled out.  A was coming after work, the Evil Genius was more than old/capable enough to look out for Sprout for the few hours' gap, and they were excited about having Casa de Crazy to themselves for a few hours.  

This was the same weekend when, on the way home, the van's engine threw a rod and irrevocably died on the side of the road, but that's another tale.

The day before I needed to leave, Cygnus wanted to come over and pick up some of his things, including some of his tools.  I let him know when I was leaving and that he'd have to come before then or wait until I was home.  He didn't come the evening before or that morning, and I locked up the house and left.  

A couple of hours in to my 11 hour drive, the phone calls started, interspersed with him hanging up on me when I didn't give answers that satisfied him.  Where was I?  Why wasn't I home?  Didn't I know he was coming for his things?  Why was the house locked?  Why didn't his garage door opener work?  Why was I trying to ruin his life?  Didn't I know how important it was for him to have his tools?  Why did I hate him?  Why didn't I wait for him before I left?  I was ruining his chances to get this job.  I was doing it on purpose.  I didn't care about him, had never cared about him.  Everything was all my fault.

You get the drift.

When he let me speak, and sometimes when he wouldn't, I would answer him, reminding him of my trip, the gig, and that I'd told him when I had to go, when I'd be back, and when he had to be at the house if he didn't want to wait until I was home to collect his things.

Eventually, he called and told me he'd gotten in, his garage door opener worked, after all, and where were all the things he needed right that moment or else everything was pointless and bleak and I was a horrible human being who wanted to destroy him (in a nutshell).

As I was already hours on the road and had no idea where any specific items were, only a vague sense of garageness, I couldn't answer.  This was.  not.  ok.  More screaming, swearing, and epithets.  

I asked if I needed to cancel the gig and come home, not quite a threat since I meant it - had he made the demand, I would have done - but he yelled some more about how he wasn't going to ask me to do that since then I'd blame him for all the bad things, and on and on, so I kept going, fielding angry calls as he yelled and hung up, only to dial me up again.

Because the kids were home, I kept answering - I didn't want him unleashing his rage on them.  He absolutely would have, verbally.  After all, he had done it before, until I put myself between him and them, directed his words and actions towards myself so he would change focus.

The kids.  They were playing quietly in the house when he got there, and when they saw him drive up...they hid.

My children, in their own home, hid from this person who was once part of our lives.  

At some point after he'd hung up on me yet again, he entered the house, which he shouldn't have done - nothing he'd asked for was inside, and he had no right to enter when I wasn't home, when he thought no one was home because he didn't listen when I told him that A was watching the kids while I was gone.  

Let me just drive that point a little more home - after not showing up when he knew I would be there, after coming to the house knowing I was gone, thinking that no one would be there and that he could get into the garage at will, he came into the house without invitation, without permission, and without any real reason.

Still thinking he was alone except for the cats, he wandered around and rummaged for some things, then tried to enter the Evil Genius's room.  EG had locked his door when Cygnus drove up and made no sound, no answer, when Cygnus pounded on the locked door, so...

Cygnus broke in the door.

Yes, you read that right.  He broke in the door to my son's bedroom, a space he had not permission, reason, nor right to enter.  When he saw my son there, sitting on the bed, he froze.  Then he exploded. He called me back with accusations of lying to him, that I'd said the kids were with me, then that I'd said that kids would be at A's house, that I should have ordered them to let him in, then all kinds of hatred spewed forth.

I was angry that he'd gone into the house.  He claimed he wanted the coffee maker - my coffee maker, since he'd lost or damaged his, I can't recall - so he'd come inside.

All this time, he never looked for our daughter, never asked where she was.  She'd gone and hidden under the covers of my bed.  He never noticed her, nor her absence, never called out to her.

Shortly after he burst in on my son, he stomped around a little more then went back outside.  A pulled up soon after, and he left in a hurry.

I'll spare you a few details here and jump to the point where EG and A discovered how Cygnus got in.  Remember back when I mentioned that his garage door opener wouldn't work?  It was one that was hard-wired to his vehicle, not a remote unit.  Late the year before, A had reprogrammed the main unit and the remotes to a new frequency, for the same reason I started locking doors when I left the house (something I wasn't in the habit of doing for decades) - by this time, I didn't trust Cygnus to respect my home, because I fully believed that he would try to sneak in while I/we were out and take what he wanted. How many times had he snuck into my son's room and stolen his money and then lied about it?  How many times had he emptied my change banks, taken my toll money stash, stolen and sold things or pawned his tools then accused me of stealing them or hiding them from him?

Too many.

So I wasn't taking any chances that he'd come in unless I was there to observe.

If his opener didn't work, how did he get in?

He kicked out a panel of the garage door, crawled in, and then opened it.  He forced his way into the house.  He went looking for things, thinking he was alone and could take what he liked.  He broke into my son's room for what?  Likely to steal any money he could find, possibly to take other things to sell.

I absolutely believe he was an active addict at the time, his protestations notwithstanding.  His behavior and language were addict behavior and language.  He in no way acted reasonably, and when confrontation seemed imminent, he fled.

The kids were frightened but rallied quickly.  A and I pieced al of the above together into one timeline, and I asked if I should come home.  Gigs are a big deal, but family is bigger.  Kids and A said go perform, they would be fine.  My ex-husband came by and fixed the garage door panel as best as he could.  The sheriff was called and informed of what happened but in the end  no charges were filed.

I called Cygnus.

I was white hot.  If I'd known where he was living at the time, I would likely have turned back home and sought to do him grievous harm.

As hunting him down wasn't an option, I instead told him that he was never.  ever. under any circumstances. to come to my house again.  Not even to the driveway.  Never.  Not even if it means his life.  Not even a pinkie toe over the property line.  He will never again be welcome or even tolerated at our home.

That stands.  If the neighbors see him, they will call law enforcement.  If the kids see him, they will call law enforcement.  If I see him, I will call law enforcement.  

I'm still storing his things, although that has to change before the end of the summer.  If he wants anything, he must message me and ask for it.  When I am able, I will bring it to him.

This house is home, is haven, for me and the kids.  I will never again knowingly compromise that for the sake of kindness, compassion, or convenience.  My son will not ever again be in the same room as Cygnus.  He will never again speak to the man.  Given a choice, he will never again see Cygnus nor hear his.  His loathing for Cygnus runs deep, burns bright, and is enduring.

Sprout is torn between love for her Papa, lingering fear, and dislike.  I try to nurture the love, gentle the fear, and temper the dislike, but I won't make her feel bad for feeling these things.  When she wants to see him, if he is able, I will take her to a park where they can visit.  She doesn't want to be alone with him, though.  She wants me there, somewhere, where she can look and see me and know I've got her back.  This is not a supposition - she has said as much.

Why bring this up now, after so much time has passed?

Because healing takes time.  Because events don't just happen and then slip into the past, they ripple outward.  Sometimes they ripple for years, decades, lifetimes. 

Last night the kids and I were chatting about this and that, and memories became the topic.  The memory of the home invasion came to Sprout's fore, and we rehashed that whole weekend - who was where and had done what, when.  How we would deal with such an event, today.  How the feelings are still there, among our roots, feeding our inner life.  How we can deal with both feelings and memories so they don't keep doing damage.

I would like to say that such conversations, centered around such events, are rare, but I cannot make that claim.  I can say that we don't shy away from them, that we talk and work and talk and work until we've temporarily exhausted the matter, then revisit as needed.  None of the three of us shies away from doing the work, and we will ride these waves, we won't let them drag us under.  We are strong swimmers in the tides of life.  

Ripples come, and ripples pass, and on we go.