As the saying goes, "If If March comes in like a lion, then it goes out like a lamb". Naturally, this is usually used to refer to weather patterns, but in this instance it has a much more all-encompassing suitability.
March 1, 2004 began on a bleak note. Temperatures had plummeted well below freezing the night prior, making the snow underfoot crunch and squeak as I trudged from the parking lot to the office building, well before dawn. Winds were raw and cutting and howled outside the windows of my office suite. I looked out over the coach to the windswept and frozen landscape beyond. There was one solitary person shovelling his car out of a snow bank. Other than that the streets were vacant. There was a true winter blizzard brewing.
In normal fashion, there was an offline from Doug awaiting my arrival. This time just a brief comment that he was glad to see I had posted the reply to BS, but that he'd have preferred if I'd not mentioned that he had been banned from ILW. I dashed off an instant message wishing him a good day and apologised for having included it. It was clear Doug was not yet online.
The day proceeded without interruption until late afternoon when my cell phone rang and without looking at the number I answered.
There was no salutation or greeting, just an exclamation, "I need to talk to you !". I paused, briefly, as I identified that it was none other than KMC's raspy and utterly-common voice at the end of the line. In recent months she was applying pressure tactics and threatening me through members of my staff, associates and partners and had interfered with my personal financial affairs. For the most part it was done indirectly and surreptitiously, but I was acutely aware of her machinations. Her's and DF's direct contact with me had subsided at the end of the prior year, except for his call and email in February to try to swindle yet another $10,000 out of me. Now another wave of attack was being launched.
I interrupted her, and said "I have nothing to say to you", but before I could complete the statement she added "He's on his way home...". I gulped as my heart began to race and I shuddered to think what on earth was going on. I fumbled for my coat while holding the cell phone to my ear and dashed down the flight of stairs, three steps at a time, to race out of the building to my vehicle. All the while I could hear her hoarse voice yapping on the other end of the line. Once I had the vehicle started, I added, "No he's not" and pointed the vehicle in the direction of my home.
There's no sense in rushing. He'll be there before you get there" she said gleefully "and you can't stop him, it's his house too!". I needed both hands to navigate the snow drifts that had piled up on the roads during the day. No one had reported to work and even the ploughs had only just begun to clear the major streets. My 4-wheel drive was immensely helpful as I tried to gather as much speed as possible to make the 2+ mile journey home.
"No he's not" I exclaimed, "if I have to get the National Guard to keep him out, I shall!" and promptly hung up. I raced up the driveway to see fresh tyre marks that lead to the garage door, and then reversed. Could it be he had already been and gone? Was he waiting up the road until I opened the garage? I pressed the door opener, and slipped under, just barely missing the base of the door with the roof rack. Once the rear bumper of my car crossed the threshhold I pressed the door again to close immediately behind me.
I flung the car door open and grabbed spades, shovels and any garden implement within range to wedge in the door to prevent it from rolling up more than a few inches. I scrambled to get a ladder to disengage the automatic door opener on both bays of the garage. And then I waited in the darkness of the garage.
All I could hear was my heart pounding and the cell phone ringing incessantly. After a call had obviously been picked up by my voice mail, another call would ring, so much so that it was impossible to make a call without taking the chance that I would accidentally answer an incoming call. I made my way inside to the kitchen to get the home phone. Before I could retrieve the receiver, another call. Ring!!!! I picked up and hung up, immediately, to get an open line and called my attorney, while heading down the corridor to the upstairs guest bedroom to the window overlooking the garage to keep watch.
My attorney's partner was the only one in the office and quite unfamiliar with my case. He advised me that there was little that could be done if, indeed, my estranged husband intended to move back in. I was crestfallen, thanked him, left a message for my attorney to call as soon as possible and proceeded to contact my psychologist. She thought it unwise to leave the house to meet with her and volunteered to make a few calls herself to solicit help. Relieved that she understood how stressful the thought was that DF could return, she assured me to keep her informed should DF arrive and to try to relax in the meantime. She knew that I had been harrassed and the victim of a tremendous amount of distress at the hands of KMC and DF the prior year. She promised to keep calling my attorney and the Women's Resource Centre, to see if anyone could call and check up on me later that evening.
Once settled at the base of the window with a cup of coffee in hand, I listened to the voice mail messages that KMC had left. The wind was howling, snow swirling in the driveway below, but KMC's messages brought a deeper chill to me. She was sending DF back to me, whether I agreed or not. I remained crouched by the window for the better part of the night, straining my eyes in the darkness to see if anyone pulled up.
On top of all of this upset, when I logged onto Yahoo later that night, Doug had not responded to my instant message ~ I felt helpless and alone.
March 1, 2004 began on a bleak note. Temperatures had plummeted well below freezing the night prior, making the snow underfoot crunch and squeak as I trudged from the parking lot to the office building, well before dawn. Winds were raw and cutting and howled outside the windows of my office suite. I looked out over the coach to the windswept and frozen landscape beyond. There was one solitary person shovelling his car out of a snow bank. Other than that the streets were vacant. There was a true winter blizzard brewing.
In normal fashion, there was an offline from Doug awaiting my arrival. This time just a brief comment that he was glad to see I had posted the reply to BS, but that he'd have preferred if I'd not mentioned that he had been banned from ILW. I dashed off an instant message wishing him a good day and apologised for having included it. It was clear Doug was not yet online.
The day proceeded without interruption until late afternoon when my cell phone rang and without looking at the number I answered.
There was no salutation or greeting, just an exclamation, "I need to talk to you !". I paused, briefly, as I identified that it was none other than KMC's raspy and utterly-common voice at the end of the line. In recent months she was applying pressure tactics and threatening me through members of my staff, associates and partners and had interfered with my personal financial affairs. For the most part it was done indirectly and surreptitiously, but I was acutely aware of her machinations. Her's and DF's direct contact with me had subsided at the end of the prior year, except for his call and email in February to try to swindle yet another $10,000 out of me. Now another wave of attack was being launched.I interrupted her, and said "I have nothing to say to you", but before I could complete the statement she added "He's on his way home...". I gulped as my heart began to race and I shuddered to think what on earth was going on. I fumbled for my coat while holding the cell phone to my ear and dashed down the flight of stairs, three steps at a time, to race out of the building to my vehicle. All the while I could hear her hoarse voice yapping on the other end of the line. Once I had the vehicle started, I added, "No he's not" and pointed the vehicle in the direction of my home.
There's no sense in rushing. He'll be there before you get there" she said gleefully "and you can't stop him, it's his house too!". I needed both hands to navigate the snow drifts that had piled up on the roads during the day. No one had reported to work and even the ploughs had only just begun to clear the major streets. My 4-wheel drive was immensely helpful as I tried to gather as much speed as possible to make the 2+ mile journey home.
"No he's not" I exclaimed, "if I have to get the National Guard to keep him out, I shall!" and promptly hung up. I raced up the driveway to see fresh tyre marks that lead to the garage door, and then reversed. Could it be he had already been and gone? Was he waiting up the road until I opened the garage? I pressed the door opener, and slipped under, just barely missing the base of the door with the roof rack. Once the rear bumper of my car crossed the threshhold I pressed the door again to close immediately behind me.
I flung the car door open and grabbed spades, shovels and any garden implement within range to wedge in the door to prevent it from rolling up more than a few inches. I scrambled to get a ladder to disengage the automatic door opener on both bays of the garage. And then I waited in the darkness of the garage.
All I could hear was my heart pounding and the cell phone ringing incessantly. After a call had obviously been picked up by my voice mail, another call would ring, so much so that it was impossible to make a call without taking the chance that I would accidentally answer an incoming call. I made my way inside to the kitchen to get the home phone. Before I could retrieve the receiver, another call. Ring!!!! I picked up and hung up, immediately, to get an open line and called my attorney, while heading down the corridor to the upstairs guest bedroom to the window overlooking the garage to keep watch.
My attorney's partner was the only one in the office and quite unfamiliar with my case. He advised me that there was little that could be done if, indeed, my estranged husband intended to move back in. I was crestfallen, thanked him, left a message for my attorney to call as soon as possible and proceeded to contact my psychologist. She thought it unwise to leave the house to meet with her and volunteered to make a few calls herself to solicit help. Relieved that she understood how stressful the thought was that DF could return, she assured me to keep her informed should DF arrive and to try to relax in the meantime. She knew that I had been harrassed and the victim of a tremendous amount of distress at the hands of KMC and DF the prior year. She promised to keep calling my attorney and the Women's Resource Centre, to see if anyone could call and check up on me later that evening.
Once settled at the base of the window with a cup of coffee in hand, I listened to the voice mail messages that KMC had left. The wind was howling, snow swirling in the driveway below, but KMC's messages brought a deeper chill to me. She was sending DF back to me, whether I agreed or not. I remained crouched by the window for the better part of the night, straining my eyes in the darkness to see if anyone pulled up.
On top of all of this upset, when I logged onto Yahoo later that night, Doug had not responded to my instant message ~ I felt helpless and alone.
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