Yes there’s the seat up bullshit. The fact that he sleeps in the same shorts every night. The bit where he looks at me funny if I leave my flip-flops anywhere but the closet. But I gotta say, living with a man is a good thing. Especially mine, but in this instance, any man will do. My mother phoned me today with the gasping, "did you hear what happened to Lea?" I assumed it was something to do with a job. She lives in Montana and is a very talented make up artist (she’s doing the makeup for my wedding) and jewelry designer. To die for. I will include some photos tomorrow… or the next day. I’m a busy girl lately, but I’m not complaining. I have no right to, especially after learning what my little sister just went through.
At 4am, she heard the door to her apartment rattle, the way wind sometimes causes things to move at night. But it became louder. "What the fuck?" she said aloud while tossing in her bed. Then she listened again. The sound was still there. She shuffled across her apartment, toward her door, worried, for just a minute it might not have been locked. She checked her door, locked it, then looked out her peephole. No one was there. The sound stopped. She lingered near her door for a while longer, looked out her keyhole, and again saw nothing. "Maybe the wind kept opening a door down the hall," she said to me explaining what my mother had left out of the story. Then–I don’t know why–she opened her front door. There was a large balding man, panting heavily, with a fire extinguisher. She quickly slammed the door and used her body weight to lean against it as she bolted it.
"Holy shit motherfucker. Stephanie, I was so scared. I mean, I live on the fourth floor of a walk up. Why’d he pick my place?" Then the worst bit of the story: "You can make this easy, or you can make this hard. Either way, I’m coming in there," the stranger said, now banging on her door, bashing at the doorknob with the red cylinder. Lea called 911 saying to the woman, "can you hear that? There’s a man trying to break into my apartment." She could hardly speak. The 911 attendant stayed on the phone with her, instructing her to lock herself into another room, her bathroom. Lea was certain he was now in her apartment.
The police got the guy. He never got into her actual apartment, but he did severely damage her door. Apparently, he’d been given a police warning at 2am for severe intoxication. They picked him up after her call at 4:30am. It’s just sick. This shit happens in Montana at 4am. I don’t know how you sleep after that, ever again. Or how you don’t run out and find a big boyfriend. Or a little dog with a big bark, like the Lineman. Honestly though, who says that? "You can make this easy, or you can make it hard." Dear God. I’d have nightmares for a long time. I can’t imagine. I also don’t know what happens next. At least they caught the guy. At least he never touched her. At least my angel is okay. It’s hard sometimes to be so far away from the ones we love and hope to keep safe.
