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I went to school to look for help. It came in the order of Doug, a fellow math teacher, and seven students, two of whom I'd never taught. (I was later told the number of students would have been much greater if they'd had more than just a few hours' notice.) The nine of us met two deputies that evening in Mindoro. Doug and I were allowed in the house to move things to the back porch, from where my posse loaded them into the cars, truck, and trailer they'd brought. One deputy kept conversation and an eye on Kari and Tim (who sat too close together on the couch for me to comfortably witness), while the other deputy watched Doug and me. We only had about five minutes left and only had about a third of my things loaded. I asked the deputy how were we on time and he said Kari's being cooperative and wants everything out. If they got a call they'd have to go, but to keep working until they said we had to stop. After an hour and ten minutes all the vehicles were loaded. We took the half-hour drive back to my new apartment and unloaded everything in practically no time at all. Kari left a voicemail at school for me the next day that she wanted me to give her some money. For some reason, I didn't feel obliged to return her call. In our haste to get the hell out of there, I realized while unpacking over the next few days that some items were left behind... a piece of art my grandfather had made, my chess set I'd bought overseas when I was in the navy, the blow dryer and curling iron I used when Cathy was visiting, some of her games, and my bicycle which was out in the shed. I did not want to be seen anywhere near the house without another escort (which was not forthcoming) and ended up abandoning them, to my dismay. A week later Kari called again, looking for money and to let me know she was moving out of the house. The last piece of mail I'd sent from that address was my exit interview form from APAC. I truly enjoyed working for Harrah's, praised my supervisors, and left a note on the bottom stating that I'd quit to spend more time with my family, but it wound up a bad decision, and if given the chance I'd start working for them again in a heartbeat. The letter didn't go unnoticed by the higher-ups (I was a very good employee), and was given a call inviting me back. I was to start the following Monday, upping my schedule to work 30 hours per week. Everything in my life, my future family, was taken away from me. All I had left in La Crosse County was my students. Except for my weekend with Catherine, they were what mattered most to me. The tailgate parties grew bigger each Friday night, and something wonderful was happening... our football team kept on winning! |