I Became an Occupant

I Became an Occupant, 09/25/2011

 

 

The note came, terse, formal, cold: “Remove me from your…” and then there was some word indicating a professional e-mail service.  The word was capitalized. I didn’t know it; I don’t remember it.  I’m not a professional e-mail service.

 

I remember the formality, the distance, the anonymity of it.  But it was my anonymity.  My name was gone.

 

It was like getting an advertisement via snail mail addressed “To Occupant.”

 

I’ve known him for years through church, youth groups, camp, high school, junior college and as a room-mate for one year when we both left home for the first time as transfers.

 

He took my picture hitting a double for the jc baseball team.  He sent it to the local paper. I was famous for a day.  I think it was my only hit.

 

I was his best man at his wedding; he mine a couple of years later.

 

But that was that and then.

 

I went south; he never left.

 

We reconnected seventeen years later.  I had more in common with his wife.

 

He stayed, bought the whole rah, rah, sis, boom, bah.  He makes a great cheerleader for the status quo.

 

I had a problem with his boss kissing up to big donors. It was my school he was prostituting. I let the boss know three times with copies to my best man.

 

Fourth time, the e-mail came.

 

People drift apart. I became an Occupant.

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