The worst day of my life did not start like any other day, as they usually say. The day my world began to crumble was a long and emotional day. It was a day that started with heartbreak and ended in fear. It was the Mondayest Monday I'd ever had. If I hadn't lived through it, I wouldn't believe a day could go so wrong.
There will be more about that fateful day, but first, I should explain a little about myself. My name is Melissa. I was 37 years old when this nightmare began. MY fiancé, Zach, was 32. He had been raising my three daughters for six years. Kim is my middle child. She was a moody, hormonal 15-year-old, and Jocelyn was 13. My oldest daughter, Alicia, who was 17, recently moved to her boyfriend's house. Well, I kicked her out - but only because she wanted to go.
We all lived in a shabby two-bedroom house in Lakeland, Florida, which I had rented for three years. Don't get me started on the shabbiness of this house. The floors were bare, there was a bug problem, and most electrical outlets didn't work. These were only the pressing issues.
At this point in my life, the only thing I wanted was stability, and because of a past eviction - we didn't have a lot of choices. We moved around a lot when the kids were young, and I promised them they could stay in the same high school. So I was kind of stuck.
In addition, to the four of us, we had dogs. They weren't just dogs to us. We were one of those strange families that considered pets part of the family. There were three adult males and one barely adult female dog. The female dog's name was Maggie.
I was up all night the night prior. Maggie was giving birth. When I say all night, I mean all night. I was a nervous wreck; this is what kept me awake. Sometimes my anxiety got the better of me, and this was just such an occasion. Intrusive thoughts raced through my mind all night.
What if I went to sleep, and one of the puppies didn't come out right? What if it got stuck? She could be in pain or worse…
What if she was a terrible mother and decided to eat her babies? I know cats sometimes eat their young. Did dogs? How would I live with myself knowing I could have stopped it?
I heard her whining at one point, so I sat on the floor next to the box we had made for her. She stared at me with the saddest brown eyes I had ever seen.
I had been sitting with her on and off for a couple of hours. She already had three puppies. I watched all three come into the world, and she had made it seem easy - no whining or crying.
I gently smoothed her black fir.
"What's wrong, Maggie? You're doing good, mamma."
She whimpered again, and I noticed a puppy was halfway out and she was struggling. It finally came out, and it looked different from the rest. The sac was completely intact and a weird purple color. She frantically licked it but suddenly stopped and turned the other way.
I looked at the puppy and realized he was not moving. I got closer and could tell that the baby died at birth. There was nothing I could do. Instantly tears sprang to my eyes. I looked at Maggie to see how she was handling it, and it wasn't good.
She got up and moved to the other side of the box, trying to get as far away from her lost child as possible. Her eyes had gotten more exhaustive, and she started showing signs of distress. I noticed her begin nudging her other babies with her nose.
"Hold on, sweetheart, I will take care of it."
I was being louder than I should have because I really, really did not want to take care of it.
At that moment, Zach sat up in bed.
"Take care of what?"
I turned to him with tears streaming down my face. He jumped out of bed and came toward me.
"What's wrong, baby?"
I started sobbing.
"Maggie lost a baby, and it is making her upset. We have to bury it."
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him.
"Shh, don't forget, I am your rock. Take my energy, baby. It's okay, hold on, I will take care of it."
I looked at the clock and felt terrible. It was three in the morning. I should have done this myself, but I didn't have it.
He grabbed his pants and kinda walked into them. He reached the closet in no time flat.
"What are you doing in the closet? She's right here in this box."
"I know; I am grabbing a shoe box."
"Oh, I didn't even think about how I would do it. Thank you for taking over; I'm a mess."
"You may be a mess, but you are the strongest, most beautiful mess I've ever known."
"Thank you, baby. We really should get your eyes checked, though."
He smiled sleepily and gently put the puppy in the box. And walked outside. I looked at Maggie. The relief in her eyes was evident. I had never seen a dog look relieved, but it was what she felt. Her body loosened up, and her eyes were no longer enormous.
I walked out back, and Zach had already dug the hole and shoveled dirt on the box. I stood there by his side and let him finish.
"Okay, my love, he is at rest now. I have to go back to sleep."
"I understand. I'll be right behind you."
I stared at the fresh dirt for what must have been five or six minutes.
"Goodbye, sweet baby."
I wiped my eyes and walked back to my bedroom. Maggie looked like she was resting, so I did the same.
I lay there contemplating my life. I knew I was letting Zach have too much control in the relationship, but he was kind and loving - so it didn't matter. He didn't choose to be in control; I made him responsible for everything.
When I say everything, I mean everything. Zach made most of the decisions; he dealt with the girls' school, the landlord, and anything outside my job, including cooking and cleaning.
I had a massive fear of making decisions, so it was nice I didn't really have to. Plus, I usually got my way if I was adamant about something.
My life before Zach was hard; I lived with a narcissist who wouldn't work and was quick to put me down. He was always Mr. nice guy in front of people, though, so most people thought I exaggerated the abuse.
I drifted in and out of sleep but was still awake when the sun rose. I wasn't usually up this early, but I figured I might as well get up since I was.
I checked on Maggie, and she had managed to have her last two puppies while I was staring aimlessly at the ceiling and dozing on and off.
I picked up each puppy one by one. The squirming little balls of fluff appeared healthy and happy. I checked Maggie out. She looked tired but content.
After ensuring they were okay, I visited the living room to see the girls before school. One was in high school, and the other was in middle school. I didn't stay long.
I don't think they appreciated me being awake. I went out there with a smile on my face. Before speaking, I had four eyes staring at me with contempt.
"What," Kim demanded.
"Just wanted to say hi."
"Well, you just did…."
I couldn't think of anything witty to say, so I returned to my room after checking on the pups. I understood, even though my feelings were kind of hurt.
The morning was their time to not have to deal with any bullshit, and unfortunately, I was the bringer of bullshit to them.
Rules and regulations were tough to follow for a teenage girl whose hormones were going wild.
I tried to lay back down, but I kept getting visions of something happening to the puppies. Maggie didn't seem responsible enough to be a mom, and I had doubts.
Once it finally turned nine o'clock, I got up and got dressed. I decided the best thing to do was get out of the house for a while. So I headed to Save a Lot, a couple of blocks away. I had to pick up a few things.
When I got there, it was much busier than it should have been at that hour, and a line was already going down one of the aisles. I hated crowds and didn't like coming into proximity to other people.
The part that got me anxious was how I needed to go toward the aisle; all the people were lined up down. I was just coming for snacks for the girls. The row with all the soups and Chef Boyardee was overrun with a line of very cranky people.
I noticed a traffic gap right in front of the ravioli. I brought my empty basket close to me and for it. This big mean lady with black hair and evil eyes took her hand, put it on my shoulder, and gave me a tiny shove.
Now, I knew she hadn't meant to harm me, she could have flung me across the room, but I couldn't believe she had the audacity to put her hands on me. How dare she?
I think my shock and disgust showed on my face because she looked guilty for a second before growling, "No cutting!"
This lady could chew me up and swallow me, but I was not the one, and today was not the day.
I looked at her and said, "Don't you ever put your hands on me again. I am just trying to grab some ravioli."
She looked even more embarrassed, but she didn't say another word. I finally got everything I needed and waited my turn in the unreasonably long line.
I took a second to observe the people around me. I tended to have tunnel vision and not pay attention to my surroundings, but I was on high alert. The first thing I noticed was the pungent aroma of piss.
I gazed in front of me, and there was an extremely obese man standing next to a heavy-set woman who had to be about 90. She was sitting in a wheelchair, poking at the air with her finger and humming to herself.
Behind me stood a tall skinny woman with bare feet and tangled mousy brown hair. She had a baby carriage in her cart. I discreetly looked at the baby. He was about 8 months old with big puffy cheeks, a stained onesie, and dirty feet.
I couldn't help but notice his feet for two reasons. First, they were stuck straight up in the air. Second, they were humongous. I had never seen feet so big on a child in my life. I briefly wondered if he would fit into my shoes.
I shook my head, laughing at my own joke. I whispered to myself, "Now that would be funny. "
I straightened up and wondered if I had become the one people were looking at now. They probably observed me talking to myself and thought I fit in there.
I approached the cashier and smiled, but she was not feeling it. She was even less enthusiastic a minute later.
"swipe it again."
"Ma'am, what I am trying to tell you is no matter how many times you swipe it - it won't work. Is there a certain amount of times it needs to be swiped?"
She rolled her eyes at me and put her hand out.
"Just give it to me."
"Thank you."
I was mortified. I don't like attention, and everyone in line stared at me. I watched the angry worker type in each number, lips pursed, eyes scrunched up, and jaw clenched. She acted like it was physically painful.
I stood over the pin pad. As soon as the cashier hit the last number, I was prepared. The words enter pin popped up, and I was ready to go. I quickly entered my secret numbers and watched the computer like a hawk. As soon as the word approved popped up, I walked over to the cart and guided it toward the door.
""Thank you, have a nice day," I said.
She didn't say a word.
I finally got out of the store and raced home. My home was my safe place; why did I ever want to leave? When I arrived at my house, something bright orange was taped to my door.
"What the hell is that?" I asked out loud to no one in particular. I walked up to my door and read the words CONDEMNED.
My mind flashed back to our shitty slumlord of a landlord. He refused to do any repairs, and we had three outlets in the whole house that worked.
We had just paid four hundred dollars to drain the septic last week because he wouldn't do it, and shit and piss were leaking. There were so many other problems I could never name them all.
We decided we would show him. We would call code enforcement, and they would make him do the repairs. Then we would finally live in a house that was up to par.
It's not like I was asking much from life. Just a safe, secure, and clean environment to sleep at night. We never suspected the house was dangerous.
The code enforcement officer had mentioned, "This house isn't liveable; y'all need to get out as soon as possible. It is a fire hazard."
To which I said, "We can't go anywhere. We have nowhere to go. We would be homeless."
He shook his head disapprovingly and left. I figured he was just being dramatic, but this proved he wasn't.
There were a few reasons I couldn't just go find another place: First, We had had some problems over the years, and I had an eviction on my record from the past. We learned last time we looked that Lakeland was stringent on checking for evictions, and they were serious about the tenant not ever having been removed from a premise. It didn't matter if it was 2o years ago. It was inexcusable.
Next, I had no savings, and you needed first, last, and security to move to a new place. Finally, and most importantly, I had recently lost my job at a school in Tampa.
I'd been working there for a year, and it was my best job ever. My whole career was helping people enroll in higher Education, which I had always been passionate about.
The only problem was there were strict goals and quotas. I was actually doing very well at the job. My boss was thrilled to have me on his team, and I should have just left well enough alone. The problem was I was completely losing my shit every month, thinking I would get fired.
I watched so many people go in for their monthly meeting, only to come back pissed off or crying, as security stood over them, watching them pack their shit. I should have realized the difference between them because I genuinely believed in the product.
I didn't, though, and I heard about a position on another campus that wasn't so risky. You basically just held the students accountable when they were failing or missing too much school. Sounds easy, right?
So I went ahead and switched departments. Soon I realized I was in over my head. This was a very corporate environment, and I worked with many snobs. I started noticing everyone snickering and whispering about me. The managers were even in on it.
How do I know? Easy, one of the managers called me to his office to let me know I smelled like dogs and there had been some complaints. He told me this was a professional work environment, and I needed to decide how to come into work smelling better.
I was speechless. I didn't smell that bad. If I did, why was this jerk of a manager the first person, in all my years as an employee, to tell me this? His solution was for me to keep my dogs out of my bedroom or to get rid of them. Like that was ever going to happen.
Every day after that became more challenging for me to go to work. I could see people whispering and convinced myself they were talking about me. I started missing days, more and more, and before I knew it, I was getting fired.
I picked up the phone to call Zach. He would know what to do. He always knew what to do. If it wasn't for him, I would be lost.
Zach was about 5'7 180 pounds. He had the complexion of a redhead and some red in his beard, but he was primarily bald up top. He worked full-time but was an apprentice and only brought home $100.00 a week.
I called him at work, "Hey, baby, we have a problem."
"What's wrong?"
"You know how code enforcement said we needed to move out?"
"Uh-huh."
I could tell he wasn't focused on what I was saying. I heard an impact wrench going in the background.
"Well, they weren't kidding; they condemned the house."
"Wait, what do you mean condemned? How?"
"They posted a bright orange sign right on the door. I can't remove it. It says it is a crime to tamper with it."
"Fuck, okay. It's okay. Does it say a time frame we need to be out by?"
I could tell he was trying not to get upset because he didn't want me upset. Once I got upset, it was impossible to snap out of it.
"Well, no, actually, it doesn't."
I could hear him breathe a sigh of relief.
"It's okay, baby. We will worry about it when I get home tonight."