Early the next morning, there was a loud knock at the apartment door. My face was battered and eyes swollen, as I peered through the peephole to see the landlord standing there. As I opened the door, he hands me an eviction notice. Understandably he was furious and explained that he had received a lot of complaints and didn’t know what was going on here, but that I had 5 days to get out.
There was nothing I could say. He was right. I didn’t even know what was going on here half the time. Jesse never came home that night after ripping up and down the road with the baby in the backseat of his car. I had no idea where he was.
The only thing I could think of to do was to call Janice, Jesse’s mother in Tennessee. I got in the van and drove to the nearest pay phone. We had no phone in the apartment and cell phones didn’t exist.
Janice answered the phone when I called. I asked if she had heard from Jesse. She replied, “yeah, he’s right here”, and I asked about Cameron, “he’s here, he’s in the crib with Randy sleeping”. I asked to speak to Jesse, “he doesn’t want to talk to you”. “Do you have any idea when they plan to come home?” Janice said, “Jesse told me he wasn’t coming back home”.
Completely dumbfounded. They were 6 hours from me. What was I suppose to do? Now I’ve got an eviction notice, no help. I told Janice I just needed to be sure Cameron was okay. She said he was fine right where he is.
Walking back into the apartment, I stood and looked around. We didn’t have that much furniture to begin with, a sofa, couple chairs, and a bed. So I did the only thing I thought was best, I gathered what few clothes I had and took one last look around as I closed the door behind me.
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