Living Under Hyde Pt. 2

I was, literally, living underneath him, di-rectly. My bed was under his, with only the floor and some airspace separating us. And he snored. Big time. Yes, so much so that I could hear him loud and clear down in the basement. This was due, at least in part, to the fact that Mom had removed all the wall-to-wall carpet soon after Hyde arrived (allergies-his), so there was no insulation.

Practical problem #1.

Practical problem #2 was that the only shower in the house was in the basement bathroom, a "room" in the far corner of the basement made of cinder blocks (the scene of the 10,000 1/2 used bars of soap and 5,ooo 1/2 used tubes of hair restorer). In order to take a shower, Hyde had to travel past "my" territory and be naked practically in the same room with me. He did not like this one bit.

Well, guess what, buddy? Neither did I!

Oh, I just realized that this may have added to his resentment: I sailed into town and got a job right away working for the recreation department. He was not working. And, of course, even though I didn't know this at the time, he was actively delusional.

Let's call his resentment towards me and the fact that he was CRAZY The Big-Ass Problems #1-ad infinitum.

And me, I definitely had a bit of a, "Fuck you, I have as much right to be here as you" attitude. I was, I think, at least pretending to go about my business as if he weren't there. Kind of a playground, "Nyah, nyah, nyah," modus operandi.

Because let me make this perfectly clear: I hated him and was mad as hell at HIM, too.

I had a few weeks "vacation" in between prepping for my job and its actual start date. I took the opportunity to visit a friend from college who lived in the Bay Area. I must have sensed I would need an escape route because I fell madly in love with one of her roommates (within the space of about 5 days-now that kinda reeks of desperation, huh?) and decided I would move out to California after my eight week program. She was totally down with this (yes, yes- a little desperation there, too).

Then came the fateful event.

Actually, I don't remember anything clearly except that Hyde was carrying on in the kitchen with Mom and Daddy (a polite and mild way of saying he was going OFF) about something. I was, truthfully, scared. I threatened to call the police.

Well, Hyde lost it. He grabbed a plate and slammed it onto the floor, crying and screaming (I kid you not), "Are you going to let her do this to ME?!" And, of course, my parents wanted ME to calm down and not antagonize HIM.

I immediately left the scene, went downstairs, called my girlfriend, relayed what happened, and made plans to quit my job and leave within the week. Which I did.