Page 10 of The Most Dearest
Miranda was riding cotton candy clouds of victory at the moment. She’d delighted in her cat shit adventure, and deemed the Neighborhood Watch flyer, hand delivered by Peggy this morning, her merit award.
Respect for property
It has come to the attention of the official executive of Neighborhood Watch that certain people are taking liberties with the possessions of others. For our next meeting, Mrs. Iris Feinstein has tabled discussions of a subcommittee dedicated to ensuring that all residents uphold our official values of respect for others, neighborhood safety, and harmonious living. Mrs. Margaret Thompson has seconded this suggestion. Residents welcome to attend but must officially join to secure an official vote, as per our constitution.
Peggy had used a clip art image of a man with a hose, which was incredibly validating for Miranda. Harrison had barely read it, scanning his eyes quickly over the notice before uttering a dismissive “tsk.” He was stupid to think he could live a peaceful life while in Peggy’s crosshairs. I wondered why he didn’t use Damon’s hose. Intruding on Peggy and Reg’s sanctuary was a bad move. A really bad move.
Tonight, we had the luxury of a cheater-free house. Harrison had taken Emma to a restaurant I’d begged him to take me to a month ago, so Miranda and I had free rein of the house. I’d started to venture out of my room more and more, but it was gutting to see them playing house in the home I’d decorated and chosen. I felt like a ghost, haunting my old life even though I’d been replaced.
“We have to start showing our faces more out here,” Miranda said. “It’s all about holding battlelines. He's banished us to your room, and we have to gain some territory back.”
I was becoming stronger but still fell apart at the slightest hurt, so I wasn’t sure I was able to hold a battleline. We were no closer to an agreement on the house, with Harrison reiterating only yesterday that he would only give me a month’s bond. My dad was furious and offered to pay for a lawyer, but I was feeling angrier each day, and it was fast becoming a “principle of the matter issue,” as my mother called these things. Seamus, Jules, and Cameron had visited, but much to their dismay, Harrison hadn’t been home. When Dad called Harrison, the cheating asshole had ended the call, which prompted Mom to send him a photo of the new woodchipper.
I had no idea if Harrison’s parents knew. They hadn't called or come over, but that wasn't unusual. I wasn't going to look like the bitter ex by calling them and dobbing on their grown son.
The sound of the door made Miranda jump in anticipation. “Hopefully Satan has come to take Harrison home,” she joked. If only. It wasn't Satan; it was Damon. He’d kept a low profile since the night he caught me toasting marshmallows over the ashes of my relationship. I stiffened in my seat, knowing I looked like a piece of crap that had been run over twice and thrown in the gutter.
He wandered in, placing his hands in his pockets. Damn it, why did he have to look so good?
“Hey Cordelia, I just wanted to see how you were doing. I noticed that ... well, both of your cars are still here, so I guess I was just checking to see if you’re okay.”
“Nope, not okay,” was all I offered him.
Damon looked at Miranda, who was all too ready to give him the lowdown.
“Not okay at all. Asshole won't leave the house but won't pay her out. So, we're here for as long as it takes to run the fucker out or pull her rightful payout out of his tight ass. He's moved his teen lover in, so things are a little tense, but we’re managing, aren’t we Cordy?”
Damon stared at me in disbelief, moving his eyes from me to Miranda and back again.
"You're kidding? Cordelia, just go to a lawyer. If you're on the deed, you have legal rights. If I’d known this was going down, I would have knocked the bastard out when he tried to borrow my hose, not just intimidated him."
Ah, so he had tried to borrow Damon’s hose.
“We can’t afford to take action, and besides, this is a principle of the matter thing,” Miranda informed him. “We’re big on that in the Bard household. I’m committed to this game of torture-the-asshole chicken and I’m not giving up. Neither are you, right Cordy?”
I nodded weakly.
“You seem to have your hands full,” Damon commented, like this was something that was just a normal part of busy life. He sat beside me and adopted a more serious tone. “This can’t be making you feel good Cordelia. I could talk some sense into him.”
I laughed bitterly. “The man has no fucking sense. Who moves in with a woman and a few months later moves another woman in before the first one is even gone? Actually, not woman. Girl. Alvin is a girl.”
He shook his head. “He’s an asshole.”
“Cordy, you have the strength of a fucking army,” Miranda said. “Watching those two cozy up makes me want to vomit and he wasn’t even my boyfriend. Kissy kissy in the kitchen, cuddles in the living room, a squeaking bed in the guest room. Ugh, it's feral.”
“The guest room? Next toyourroom?” Damon shook his head again. “He’s more insensitive than I thought.”
“I think he’s playing it up so I’ll leave,” I said bleakly. “The longer this goes on, the more I refuse to leave. Geez, I’ll be sharing this house with my husband and our four kids, and Harrison will still be here with his latest mistress. Emma will age out of the position soon enough. Maybe they'd be good babysitters."
Miranda uttered the strangest squeaking sound I’d ever heard. “Biggest brainwave ever!” We both looked at her expectantly.
Chapter 11: Damon - Strategies
The croaking raven doth bellow for revenge
Hamlet, William Shakespeare
Miranda was bustling about like she was trying to rid her body of excess energy. “Well?” Cordelia asked.
