What leverage do you have?
May 2, 2018

In my last post I told you about the guy who tried to break into my motel room one summer. I was in college, working construction, and was renting a room by the week. It was a bargain, I’d thought at the time. And I’d been wrong.

I say the guy “tried” to break into my motel room, but at first that meant just trying to talk me into opening the door. I kept pleading with him to go away, talk to the motel owner, whatever. I told him the owner was in the room next to mine. He apparently wasn’t interested in breaking a window or kicking in the door -- maybe, just maybe, because I’d given him the impression someone would hear him if he did.

After what felt like forever I heard a vehicle drive off. And I was sure that meant one of two things. The guy was trying to fake me out, get me to think he was leaving -- so I’d make a run for it myself, at which point he’d pounce. Either that, or he was leaving to get something that would help him break into my room quietly. It was one or the other. I was sure of it.

So I stayed behind the flimsy door with the cheap locks. I was shaking. Every horror story I’d ever heard came back to me. I knew my luck had run out. Even if my visitor was gone, he’d be back. I was afraid to move. I crouched behind the door, clutching my pepper spray, for five hours.

I was too afraid to think much of anything, but I did try to figure out what I could offer the guy to keep him from hurting me. My typewriter? The TV some friends had loaned me for the summer? I doubted he’d be interested in either. Which meant it was time to make peace with my life being over after twenty years. I’ll tell you how I did that in my last post in this series.