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I Hear Ya Knockin' but Ya Can't Come In
by lauren finchum
08/08/09
Not For Sale
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I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone when I opened the door and found Chaze standing there. He looked every bit as cheesy as when I left him that day in Tulsa when I found he’d cheated on me with his podiatrist.
Today he stood there, smiling like a 1950’s Crest commercial in all his sweater vested glory, “Hi, Roxy.” he breathed.
I felt this was to be sexy, but all I got was a whiff of liverwurst and onion.
“What are you doing here, Chaze?” I leaned on the doorframe and cock a hip.
“Just thought I’d come and see you.” he smiled, and tried to edge his way in.
I stopped him with one hand, “Not so fast, I haven’t seen you since you ran off with Debbie.”
Chaze’s face colored, but he still played the charmer (and pathetically so), “I just thought, you know, I’d come over for the good times sake.”
I sigh, “Chaze, it’s been four years. If there were any ‘good times’ they’re long lost in the galaxy by now.” I pause for a moment, then decide to give it to him straight, “You know, you were a creep when I dated you, how I missed it then I don’t know, but I’m not falling for your games again. Sorry.”
Dating Chaze was the biggest mistake I’d ever made—besides the 90’s backpack purse—and I wasn’t about to let him weasel himself back into my life.
Chaze faked tenderness, “Oh, come on, Roxy, don’t be that way—“
“Cut the crap, Chaze. Why. Are. You. Here?”
“Well,” he scuffed his shoes, “Debbie is selling her Volvo, and I was wondering if you’d by it from her.”
Ok, mouth hung in shock, “Why in heck would I want Debbie’s old Volvo?”
“Well, you see, it’s really important she sells it. We’re moving into an apartment in Paris together, and she needs to sell the car before we move to France.”
I just stared at Chaze, and I’m sure that the look on my face isn’t calm. But even though I could take some hedge clipper to this man’s neck right about now, I looked at him and, as calmly as I could, said, “Chaze,”
“Yes?” he perked up.
“Screw off.” I slammed the door shut.
I laughed at myself when I realize that I finally had the guts to not be a human doormat. The “welcome” sign was no longer stamped on my head.
I went back to what I was doing prior to the knock on the door, freed from Chaze and everything that happened four years ago.





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