I was headed home that evening, but the moment I tried to open the front door, I could feel the smell of fried onions and a strange perfume coming from inside. I did check twice whether I’m at the right place, which was rather odd, since I owned that apartment for over 20 years.
I got inside and saw these suitcases all around the hallway. Also, there were shoes strewn everywhere, and voices could be heard from the kitchen. I’d spent the whole morning at a doctor’s appointment being told to lower my stress, which felt like a joke at sixty-eight.
Once inside the kitchen, I saw Lorraine at my stove. She was Jenna’s mother, the woman my son was about to marry in less than ten days time. Honestly, Lorraine and I only met a few times before, and now she was wearing my apron, cooking something in my kitchen while her husband was seated at the table. Her son and daughter were also there. And then came Jenna. She had a glass of orange juice in her hand and said she was glad I was home.
When I asked where Alex was, she told me he went to the store to pick up some things her mother needed for the dinner she was making. Lorraine then told me they wanted to settle before the wedding so they could avoid the fuss later on. And yes, apparently Alex told them it wouldn’t be a big deal if they stay at my place since there was extra space.
Was I ever asked if I was okay with those people staying at my place for over ten days? No!
Things turned even worse in the evening when I entered my bedroom and saw all of Jenna’s clothes in my wardrobe while mine were put on one of the chairs. Even my late husband’s watch wasn’t where I kept it. Just then, Jenna’s siter, Mia, enter the room and told me that her sister and Alex would be staying in that room because it was bigger and that I could use the spare room. She said that it was “just me” so I wouldn’t mind sleeping in the small room until the wedding’s over.
When my son finally got home that evening, I confronted him about the entire situation, but he started making excuses, saying something about hotel costs they couldn’t afford. “We are a family now, so why is this a big deal?” he asked.
That night, I did stay in the small room only because I was too exhausted to argue with five strangers and my own son.
The next few days were torture. My peaceful morning ritual of coffee, crosswords, and watering my basil plant on my balcony was totally messed up. Lorraine washed my perfectly clean towels as she said that they had a strange smell. Jenna rearranged my kitchen spices, wanted to change my curtains, rug, and move a hutch which my late husband David repainted manually. And I kept hoping that Alex would defend me, but he never did it.
By the sixth day, they took total control. I entered the living room and saw how they measured the size of my walls, moved my tables, and removed a framed picture of our graduation with Alex, David, and myself to place there a big picture of their wedding. On this night, they threw a party in my apartment without even asking. My apartment was full of strangers who were playing loud music and called me by my name as if we knew each other well. I went to the balcony, closed the door, and understood that something must be done immediately or else I will lose myself in my own house.
It was early the following day, when I found the binder on the coffee table which had “After Wedding Plan” written in Jenna’s handwriting. This binder had information about rooms, move-in schedule, utility services, and something that left me without any breath to speak – Discuss deed timeline with Alex. There was also a page in which my name was written under the label small bedroom along with the remark that the key would be with Alex since it was family decision.
No yelling or fighting. All I did was make a cup of coffee and get my legal folder which had the deed and HOA papers in it.
I talked to the building property manager and verified that none of those individuals were authorized residents or approved guests. I called up the wedding venue and blocked each and every expense on my credit card. I scheduled a locksmith for the very next day. When Jenna asked for my car keys later that day, I bluntly refused.
That night, I set out the folder and Jenna’s binder on the table for Alex to see. Lorraine tried to act as a mediator, stating that everyone was emotional, but I silenced her and told her that this was going to be brief. I pulled out the paperwork showing how they were trying to steal my house. Alex swore he did not know about the deed part, but I reminded him that he was the one to give them the key to my door, helped move me out of my room, and made them believe that they could stay there forever.
Then I addressed Jenna’s family and told them to get their stuff packed because the property manager was coming, they were not approved guests anymore, and the locks were going to be changed in nine hours. Jenna threw a tantrum, calling me a mess and saying I destroyed everything just before her wedding, but I said that all I was doing was taking care of my own things. I looked at my son and told him that the cost of his wedding was my dignity, and I couldn’t afford it.
Not having a choice, they packed up and rolled out their bags in rage, Lorraine saying I would pay for this someday.
As they left, Alex stayed behind, but I made it clear that he had to leave too. He claimed he had no idea how far they would take it, but I reminded him that he was aware that I wasn’t asked and I was forced to leave my own bedroom. I said that he should consider who he wants to become before becoming someone’s husband, and I let him go.
In the morning, I cleaned my room, returned David’s watch, and brought everything in order again.
And the wedding? It never happened. It turned out they talked about it and decided to postpone it, but eventually, they broke up for good.
Some three months later, Alex stopped by and wanted to apologize. He said he realized Jenna took advantage of him and only wanted him because he never said no to anything she wanted from him.
I wasn’t glad they ended things the way they did, but it was their decision to make.
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Bored Daddy
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