Chapter 7 - THE STALEMATE
Within twenty minutes,
a police cruiser pulled up to my driveway,
its blue lights flashing against the oak trees.
Officer Davis,
a young man I recognized from the local precinct,
walked up to the porch,
with Eleanor and me following closely behind.
I showed him my deed,
which I had luckily kept in my travel bag along with my sister's medical papers.
"This is my house,
Officer,"
I explained,
my voice firm.
"They have changed my locks and locked me out."
Officer Davis nodded,
his face sympathetic,
and knocked heavily on the door.
"Police department!"
he called out.
"Open the door!"
After a long pause,
the door opened,
revealing Matthew,
who looked pale and sick.
Jessica stood right behind him,
holding a clipboard with a smirk on her face.
"Can I help you,
Officer?"
she asked,
her voice suddenly sweet and polite,
the very picture of innocence.
"We have a complaint from the homeowner,"
Officer Davis said,
gesturing to me.
"She says you've changed the locks and locked her out of her own property."
"Oh,
there must be a misunderstanding,"
Jessica said,
holding out a piece of paper.
"My husband Matthew is Margaret's son,
and he has a legal lease agreement for this property."
"He's lived here for over six months,
paying rent,
and we had to change the locks because Margaret has been showing signs of dementia and leaving the doors unlocked."
"We did it for her own safety."
I stared at her,
my mouth open in sheer disbelief.
"Dementia?"
I gasped.
"I do not have dementia!
And there is no lease!"
"Matthew,
tell him!"
Matthew looked at the officer,
then at Jessica,
and finally at me.
"It's true,
Officer,"
he mumbled,
his voice barely audible.
"We've been living here,
and Mom,
she's been getting confused lately."
"She forgot she gave us the lease."
I felt as if the world were spinning out of control.
My own son,
the boy I carried for nine months,
was standing before a police officer,
lying to paint me as mentally incompetent just to steal my home.
"Officer,
this is a lie!"
I cried,
tears of rage finally spilling over my eyelashes.
"Look at my deed!
Look at his ID,
his address is registered to an apartment downtown!"
Officer Davis looked at the paper Jessica handed him,
then at the deed,
and sighed.
"Ma'am,
since he's her son and has a signed document claiming tenancy,
this is a civil dispute,"
he said,
looking at me with genuine regret.
"I can't force them to leave without an eviction order from a judge."
"I'm sorry,
but you'll have to take this to court."
Jessica smiled,
a triumphant,
ugly grin,
and pulled Matthew back into the house,
May you like
shutting the door in our faces.
The click of the deadbolt felt like a final nail in my coffin.
