Chapter 1

What a fucking week that was.

I was shaking my head while sitting on the steps of an old trailer in an even older trailer park. The little trailer did have a small awning that could be rolled up and down, giving you some shade during hot afternoons. The awning was more for rainy days though, as a large oak tree shaded the trailer and its small concrete patio.

This was not what I was used to. The last twenty-five years had been spent in a decent house in an average middle-class neighborhood. It was there that I had raised kids and enjoyed life. For twenty-five years, I had painted, repaired, remodeled, and done landscaping to a house that wasn't huge but was decent. A typical three bedroom, two bath, with a two-car garage.

The trailer behind me was a one bedroom, one small bath, model with a decent sized kitchen adjoining a living room area. Tiny compared to what I was used to.

Last Monday, I think it was Monday early evening or late afternoon, my wife of over twenty years said, "We're through, and I want a divorce, not a separation, but a divorce."

I asked, "What brought this on? Why?"

She said haughtily, "I'm not supporting your ass while you sit at home. Just because you're supposed to be watching what you do physically is no reason to do nothing. Since you sold your business you don't have regular money coming in except for social security. I'm not going to support you while you do nothing."

I protested, "We have the money from the sale of the business. If we just use it like an annuity, we can live off it as if it was what I took out of the business for over fifteen years. Christ, I won't be alive fifteen years from now."

With a sneer, she said, "Thank goodness for small favors. I won't have to even think of you then."

"Jesus, Judy, what in the world has gotten into you? Did something happen at work that's made you mad?"

"Nothing's made me mad except you. You piddle around in the yard and garage and do nothing. You're not bringing in any money."

"I just said we have the money from the business. I'm going to use it like an annuity so we have a long term income, about the same as what we were taking out of it when I had it."

"You won't be taking any money out of it now; I've had it transferred to my name and its part of what I'm asking for in the divorce."

"What do you mean? That was my business. I spent thirty years building the business, supporting our family with it. It hasn't been but the last ten years that you began working at the post office. You'll have a good retirement income from there along with social security and there will still be money left from the savings, from the sale of the business."

"You don't get it do you," Judy said? "We're done. You have until Friday to be out of here. My attorney assures me I'll get the house, and the savings. He says I can't stick you with any of the bills since you're retired, but I'm taking the proceeds of the business."

She handed me an envelope. I opened it and there were twenty hundred dollar bills, a card, and a key. She said, "Use that money until you get your social security monthly. The key is for a storage shed down at the storage center that's paid up for six months. Use that to get all of your stuff out of the house and the garage. Use the money to find a place to live and for food until your check comes for next month. You better hurry because as of Friday, I will have a restraining order on you restricting you from the house."

She picked up her purse and walked out the door to go wherever it was she was going.

I went to the computer and tried to log on to our joint bank account. I couldn't get in. A sick feeling came over me. I went out to get in my near twenty year old Bronco to run to the bank to check on the account.

At the bank I put my card into the outdoor ATM and waited. The screen began flashing, "Not a valid card, See bank teller." I had a couple of grand in my business account and put that card in and got the same notice.

Crap, this was not good. I needed some legal advice, but it was not during business hours and I had no idea who to call. I didn't have any past clients that were divorce lawyers.

Back at the house, I called my oldest son who lives out in Cheyenne, working for a military equipment research firm out there. "Hey, Gene, how are you doing?"

"Great, Dad, you should see how big the kids are. They're really getting big."

"Um, ah, Gene, you didn't know anything about your mother and I splitting did you?"

"No Sir. Jeanie said there was some bad news coming from home when she called yesterday but not what. I thought it might be your health or something. Are you and Judy splitting?"

Gene was my son from my first marriage that had ended when Gene was a baby. I raised Gene as a single parent and he left home for school shortly after Judy and I got married. Jeannie came along late in my life. She was my forty-sixth birthday present. Judy was sixteen years younger than I was and had trouble getting pregnant. At first the docs thought it was me, but they finally did a laparoscopy and found a small film of skin covering her fallopian tubes. As soon as they cleared that, wham, pregnant. Jeanie, now twenty, just graduated from school and was living in Atlanta where she was now gainfully employed.

I told Gene, "I guess Judy confided with her. She just told me this evening we were splitting. I guess I need to get moving to find a place and get my stuff out."

"Come out here, Dad," Gene begged enthusiastically. "You know I have a big place and have a lot of room. It doesn't look like Mom is going to come out here so you're welcome. Sandy loves you, Dad, and I'm sure you would be an asset to the house. Just put your stuff in a storage shed for a while and come out here."

"I'm tuned in to Florida sunshine, Son. That and Sandy doesn't need a father-in-law to look after. Let me figure out what to do and I'll let you know how I'm doing. Call me on my cell if you need me."

"A, Dad, I don't think your cell phone works. I tried to call you yesterday and today and today I received the message that your number was not a working number."

"Okay, I'll check it. Look, don't worry, I'm capable of getting moved out of here. If I need some muscle, I have a couple of big friends."

"Yeah, but you don't ride any more, Dad. You don't even have a road bike. All you have is that antique you play with."

"The age of the bike doesn't reflect on my friends."

"No Sir, but your friends are getting old too. If you need help, call me. Take care, Dad, I love you."

Crap!

I checked my cell phone plugged into the charger and there were not any bars. I called it from the house phone and received "This is not a working number."

I tried to call the house number from the cell phone and nothing happened, absolutely nothing.

Crap.

It was seven thirty so there wasn't much I could do about the cell phone right now. I should ask Judy about that.

My mind was whirling. Where should I try to go to get a place to live? I couldn't afford anything. My sister up in Illinois lived in public housing because she wanted to. She sold her house and now lived in a tiny apartment in a small rural town in south central Illinois. She's happy, but there wasn't anything like that here. I had heard that there were not enough apartments for the demand as it was. I know my sister was on a waiting list for over a year.

Well, first things first. I'll hook up the trailer and get the bike over to the storage shed then try to load my tool boxes. I may have to empty them as I had just found out from the VA that I had an aneurysm near my stomach that was still too small to operate, but large enough to be a concern, so no straining and no heavy lifting.

It took an hour to get the bike and a bunch of small items over to the storage place. At least she rented a ten by twenty so it should be large enough. Too bad I had to leave my two nice work benches. I would have to abandon my vise and the grinder. Crap. I'd just leave anything that wasn't going to be essential for my near future life style.

What would be my future lifestyle? Crap, that's what it would be. With about fourteen hundred a month income, it would be crap. No sweat, I'd find a job. Too bad I sold the fucking business. Watch your mouth, Buddy, or at least your mind. You've kept a clean mouth all these years, keep it that way.

I'm getting nuts. I'm talking to myself.

Back at the house, I picked up the classifieds and began looking at apartments. Jesus, the cheap ones were all six hundred and up. I couldn't rent a house or unfurnished apartment, as I didn't have any furniture. I needed a cheap furnished something. There was some motel type places that were all a hundred fifty a week. That's six hundred a month. Crap. I am going to have to figure out a budget, a tight budget, and live with it until I can get some kind of job. My days of working on a few of my inventions to see if they could be marketed are over. This was going to be tight.

With my nose back in the classifieds, I saw an ad for manufactured homes in parks for rent. Some were as low as a hundred ten a week. I could probably do four fifty and still eat but I would need a long term plan for clothes and I did need some form of recreation. It would be nice to have a beer every once in a while too. There was an interesting ad that said,

Small one bedroom furn.
family park. $475, util &
cable. Anytime 555-4392

I could live with that. It was nine thirty so I should probably wait until tomorrow. I kept looking at the ad reading into it that it was probably a trailer as it was under the manufactured home for rent section and it said family park. The word "furn" had to mean furnished. If utilities and cable were furnished then this sounded like the place for me. They did say anytime so I picked up the phone and dialed the number.

An older lady said, "Hello."

"Hi, my name is Mark Robins. I saw your ad for a furnished place in a family park. Is it still available?"

"Um, Mr. Robins, may I ask you some questions?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Are you married?"

"Ah, I am today but probably not for long. That's why I'm looking for an apartment."

"I see. Are you used to wild parties and such?"

"No, Ma'am, you see I'm retirement age and not wild at all."

"Oh, good, I mean that's good that you're older. Do you have an income other than Social Security?"

"I did, but it looks like I might lose that. I'll find a part time or full time job though. I'll need more that Social Security to enjoy life."

"Yes, you probably will. Do you want to come see the trailer? It is very clean and has a very nice tree next to it for shade. The trailer has very good air conditioning for those hot days and nights and is furnished quite well. There are some pots and pans for cooking, but no other appliances."

"I do want to see it. When will be a good time?"

She said, "The trailer park is out on north Florida Avenue near Lutz. It's the trailer park after you pass the Holiday Inn Express on the same side of the road. The trailer is on the second street over from the entrance, all the way to the end. It's pretty far from the mailboxes and the laundry facilities, but it is a nice place. Where would you be coming from?"

"I'm over near Citrus Park right now."

"You could be out here in fifteen to twenty minutes. Come out now. There are streetlights so you can see the outside of the trailer. I'll meet you."

"I don't want to put you out, Ma'am."

She said, "No bother at all. I live here in the park too. I only live three doors down from the little trailer."

"I'll come right out, Ma'am."

I unhooked the trailer and pushed it to the side of the house. Driving out to the trailer park, I thought about where I could get a job out that way. Crap, I didn't want to work. I've been working since I was a kid on the farm, virtually all my life. I wanted to putter, work on my inventions, read, learn to play golf, travel a little. Crap.

Oh well, you gotta do what you gotta do. Crap. I have to watch my mouth.

I pulled up to the guardhouse at the entrance of the trailer park as an armed guard had come out of a little building and stood in the driveway. I told him who I was and that I was seeing a lady about renting a trailer. He nodded and said, "Betty called and said you were coming."

The security guard said, "Go on in, Sir. The trailer is on the second street. You have to go up by the mailboxes and turn down the next street and come all the way back almost to here. It's right over there, but you have to drive around."

Shoot, that's pretty nice. A security guard for a trailer park. That's a bonus.

The speed limit signs said fifteen miles an hour, so I about coasted up the street, did a U-turn around the mailbox building, and went down the next street. At the end was a little trailer lit up brightly inside, with a big floodlight at the door. There was a gravel patch that I assumed was where the resident would park their car, so I pulled up on it.

As soon as I got out of the Bronco, a little lady opened the door. She said, "Mr. Robins?"

"Yes, Ma'am, call me Mark, please," I said, as I went up the steps and entered the trailer. You entered in what would be the living room area that was really left of the door. The little trailer had a nice little kitchen across the front to the right of the door, with a little counter dividing the kitchen from the living room area. There were two tall chairs at the counter. Just behind the counter was a small table with four chairs, then to the left of that was a couch and a big chair with lamps at each end of the couch on tables, as well as a floor lamp next to the chair.

The lady said, "I didn't introduce myself. I'm Betty Jacobs." She offered me her hand.

After I took it gently and gave it a squeeze, with a smile she said, "If you have a TV you would put it right there where you could see it from the kitchen, the table, the chair, and the sofa."