Chapter XX: Waiting for the End

I sat in my bed looking at my phone.

I read it only once; a shocking fact given my naturally anxious, over-analytical nature. I looked over a few parts and clicked the right side of my phone to allow it to go black.

I sat in my bed, hair tousled and lines on my face from my slumber not minutes earlier. I sat there and let it sink in. The facts that I somehow already knew but had never been told.

I sat there and, all alone, I laughed.

At first a giggle with a slight smirk; followed by a swift crescendo to a moderate chuckle.

Before I knew it I was laughing maniacally.

I got you mother fucker.

I immediately put on pants and running shoes; without any momentary hesitation. I headed toward the apartment door and, with a quick stroke down the backs of two cats, I left to run it out.

I hit the pavement hard with headphones blaring; thinking momentarily about the luck that would be mine should I get hit by a bus on the busy streets of Lincoln Avenue. What would happen to my body? Would the crushing of my bones be any better than what all of our hearts had endured? Or would it simply never matter. And would the stories, mine included, ever mean anything at all?

I thought about all the stories I had heard; the ones I had been protecting, the new and the old. And for a few songs, I felt my own self pity once again.

I thought about what lies he had to tell me in order to cheat; if I had been on a work trip for their rendez-vous or if he had been “out with his friends.”

I replayed countless of moments in my mind. Times of mistrust; mistrust that he had told me was misguided, unfair and just plain wrong. I recalled the moments of him telling me I was ruining our relationship with my trust issues and, as I began to resurface all the memories, I felt my blood boil.

Soon one mile became two, then three…four….five…

I soon began to love the pain beneath my feet, pushing through ever panting breath. The cement below each stride had become my whipping post and I was about to make this run hurt real good.

***

I don’t remember exactly what I said to Sarah in response and, to be honest, I’m not sure it matters. Soon Instagram DMs became text messages and then soon they turned into daily reminders that we were there for each other.

I recall her willingness to answer direct, poignant questions about the Monster’s transgressions. We compared notes, text messages and I confided in her my thoughts and feelings; her accepting each and every one as it progressed from one polarizing emotion to another.

I asked questions twice, three times, perhaps more; my trust issues resurfacing in a different form. I recall wondering if she was his mole; a side effect of my own paranoia that had become all to normalized in my new life. Just as I told myself that I needed to trust Ben, I knew I needed to learn to trust her, too.

Soon, we discussed her willingness to participate in the story; something many girls who had come forward were scared to do. And without thinking I took to the blog and removed the subscription almost immediately.

People needed to know the truth. He wasn’t going to abuse women anymore.

***

November, 2019

Things were starting to look up. The Monster and my shared condo was under contract contingency. This meant that the buyers were approved to purchase, pending their own condo sale in the Gold Coast. The final tie that connected us would soon be gone and I could rid myself of him forever.

Inspectors came and went, papers were signed, yet nobody agreed to purchase their home. Soon, the offer expired and all hope of a sale fell through. One again, the Monster and I were back at square one.

***

I poured myself a glass of wine and sat solemnly at the bar in our kitchen.

“I don’t know what to do, Ben,” I said gravely. “He’s been hanging over our heads for far too long.”

Ben nodded, staying positive in his responses.

Just as I took another swig of cabernet, a knock came at our apartment door. My panic set in and, without having to see, I knew it had something to do with him.

“Ben you have to get the door. It can’t be good,” I said nervously grabbing his shoulder.

He looked at me confused, quickly realizing that my intuition usually served me well; an odd skill I had acquired as the skeptic that I had tragically become.

As Ben walked towards the door I sat completely still; motionless and silent as I listened to the deep raspy voice at the door.

“Is Lindsay Damrow here?”

“What’s this regarding?” Ben asked sternly.

“I’m here to serve her papers. She’s being sued,” the voice said.

“By who?” Ben replied.

“The Condo Association of 415 Aldine,” he said.

Ben stared at him silently.

On a fucking Sunday?

“Listen man, if I can’t serve her now, I’m just going to keep coming back,” he said.

Ben closed the door and asked for a moment. He approached me in the living room, huddled on the chair with my knees up to my chest.

“It’s the association; you can’t avoid it. Just go and take it and explain you have the General Release document,” Ben explained to me calmly.

What the officer serving the papers didn’t yet know was that I had forced the Monster’s hand in signing a document. I told the Monster I wouldn’t sign an agreement to drop the price on our condo unless he signed the paperwork drawn up by my attorney, Leslie, stating that he would release me from any financial responsibility to the property, including, but not limited to, mortgage payments, association dues, closing costs, etc.

I sucked air in to my chest and walked towards the front door.

As I opened the door, I could see the man’s heart drop. He hated that he was there.

“Miss, I’m so sorry to do this on a Sunday.”

“I am released from financial responsibility to the property,” I said stoically.

“Miss, I’m just the messenger here. If you call this number, they will take whatever information you have,” he said as he handed me a mountain of paperwork with the condo association’s legal team’s contact information. “Have a nice night and, again, I’m sorry.”

I began to close the door, shooting him an unintentional look of defeat without accusation.

“Thanks,” I said.

***

The 415 W. Aldine Condominium Association was suing both of us for lack of payment on the monthly association dues; monthly dues that I alone had been making up until the day I left the property; monthly dues that the Monster had agreed to pay for when he signed the General Release document not a month earlier.

“How long has it been since he paid?” Ben asked shocked.

“He never paid,” I said. “Since May. He’s almost $7,000 in arrears.”

Ben looked at me and scoffed. “For someone that likes to brag about money, he sure as shit doesn’t seem to ever have it or do the right thing with it.”

***

I had no idea of what his arrangement was with his child’s mother. Perhaps he was bleeding dry in child support and couldn’t truly pay the assessments. Perhaps he was faking a relationship with her so she didn’t come after him for the money. I had no idea and, to be honest, I didn’t give two fucks.

What I did know was that he had recently left his financial advising job at a large regional bank to start his own independent RIA (Register Investment Advisor) elsewhere. And what he didn’t know was that the firm he moved to was conveniently a client of mine.

Ah, the ultimate karma.

Just so we’re all on the same page: the Monster advises people, usually older folks, on how to invest their money. He puts their life savings into various investment vehicles and strategies in order to attain the financial goals they wish to achieve. How he makes money; however, is by charging some type of fee, which is usually a percentage of the assets under management.

Now, let’s think about this for a second. Would you want someone who easily lies, cheats and steals from their own fiancée to manage the money you have? Would you want someone who is defaulting on their own bills to tell you what to do with your money? What about your parent’s money? Your friend’s money? Didn’t think so.

Regardless, that’s what our irreverent conman does. For those of you hoping to keep tabs on this monster, you can search for him by name or ID number on a lovely site called Broker Check. This site is maintained by a private corporation called FINRA. FINRA stands for the Financial Industry Regulatory Authority. As many of you already know, FINRA is very concerned with the integrity and honesty of those they regulate and they aim to ensure the sound financial situations of the advisers and institutions they supervise. It certainly would provide a worrisome conflict of interest should an individual who cannot manage his own financial affairs have access to the funds of others; like your dear, sweet Granny, now wouldn’t it?

What I also knew was that he had always planned to move firms. He planned to do so because he would receive a very large upfront commission check or signing bonus; a monetary amount of which would easily fall into the six figure range. Now, to be fair, this amount would have to last him while he raked in his clients one by one while facing a “non-compete order” from his previous firm. Regardless, the six figure check would have easily paid for the money owed to my family and the money owed to the condo association.

The truth of the matter was, he didn’t care. The truth that I wholeheartedly knew was that he enjoyed the game. He wanted to drag me through the mud as long and as painfully as possible. He knows me; how I operate. He knows that my anxiety is my greatest downfall and that the unknown eats away at my heart like leprosy eats through skin. He wanted that. When the time finally came, he would pay. He would pay, but he would wait and evade being served for months. He would wait and force me to seek and pay for official counsel on the matter.

And that is exactly what happened.

***

I reached out to Leslie the very Sunday that I was served legal paperwork. She responded not minutes later with a referral; a real estate law firm. This was outside of her normal scope of law and she directed me to the partner of a law firm in the suburbs near my parents.

“Tell them I sent you,” she wrote.

I immediately drafted up a letter. Through tears that I hate to admit, I pleaded desperately for their help. At this point, from the blog and my own verbal recounts of what he had done, I painted a picture of the state I was in and all that had transpired over the past year and a half.

I hit send and shut my computer abruptly; letting my head finally rest on the top of its black surface to catch my inevitable tears.

***

The next morning, the partner of the firm e-mailed me with multiple associates copied to the exchange. He asked for me to come in immediately and offered his condolences on the whole situation. I quickly called my father and asked if he, too, could attend the meeting with me. Surely his expertise on the industry in which the Monster worked might provide additional insight on leverage we might have. He agreed and we set up a meeting in their Northbrook offices for that very week; Thursday.

***

I cried a lot during those few days. As a matter of fact, throughout the whole ordeal, this was the worst part of it all. I didn’t enjoy self-pity; as a matter of fact, whenever I felt it coming on, it usually prompted a quick self deprecating jab to take its place. This time was different.

This time I was just too tired.

Inconsolable; the first word that comes to mind, though it hardly does it any justice. Just as most humans do, I had endured my fair share of hardship, suffering and pain throughout my 33 years of life. Despite it all, there was a new feeling surfacing this time; something much deeper and darker.

I didn’t want to be alive anymore.

I only said it once out loud; to Ben. Not because I wanted to harm myself nor because I had any intention of performing some selfish act of self termination. The simple truth was that living with constant dread, dread without any end in sight, had finally become insufferable. The unending torment made me wish, for the first time in my life, that I wasn’t alive to feel it.

I knew if it wasn’t for me, my parents wouldn’t feel the pain they do. I knew if it wasn’t for me, Ben would have a normal relationship. I began to stop thinking of myself as strong and resilient. Instead, for the first time, I saw myself as a burden; a cross for others to have to bear; a cancer. I didn’t feel sorry for myself, I felt sorry for those who were foolish enough to love me, to allow me a place in their lives.

Ben held my head in his chest as the tears wailed from my body; pressing his face down to the top of my head. He held on for dear life.

“I just can’t do this anymore,” I said through exasperated, heaving breaths. “I…just wish I wasn’t alive. I wish you never had to know me.”

In that moment, head pressed up against his beating chest, I could feel his heart sink and I felt once more the disappointment; a never ending cycle of grief. Ben knew the self deprecation; the jokes. He knew my tears and my, sometimes, unpredictable acknowledgement of my own pain. But this; this was new. It was new and it was scary; for both of us. For the first time, I didn’t have the energy to fight; energy I sorely needed to finally cross the finish line and end this saga once and for all.

He held me closer; tighter than ever before.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he softly but firmly demanded. “This will be over soon; I can feel it.”

***

Thursday, November 2019

I took the day off to mentally prepare for my visit to the attorney’s office. I met my dad in the parking lot of their corporate office building, parking my Mini Cooper carefully next to his beloved, green pickup truck. We met eyes and hugged, not saying much of anything. We both let out a deep and absolute sigh before heading towards the doors to walk in together.

A small and gentle man by the name of Barry* greeted us after a few minutes in the waiting room. Neither my dad nor I were relaxed enough to sit down on the sofa. He could sense our tension; fully palpable in our current state.

He spoke softly yet firmly; his demeanor quite the opposite of what I had pictured an attorney to be.

Barry sat at the head of the table and motioned for my dad and I to sit to his left. He explained how he specialized primarily in the areas of real estate, corporate law and litigation and that he would be the one overseeing our case alongside another, female litigator by the name of Ann*. He also mentioned that one of the partners, Thomas*, would be joining us as well. Thomas, I explained to my dad, was the attorney whom Leslie had suggested I reach out to and the person whom I had e-mailed.

Moments later, Thomas walked in from another entrance of the large conference room. He spoke loudly and firmly when introducing himself; exuding an air of positivity, but without gimmick.

He spoke to my dad and I casually for a few minutes, trying to ease our nerves by bringing gentle levity and openness to the room. He asked a little about my job, where we were from; an attempt to make the two of us feel more at home in their large, foreboding office. Without much interlude, he quickly sat down across from my father and I and asked me a simple question. The question that this blog had prepared me for in spades.

“Okay, Lindsay. Start from the beginning.”

***

I had practiced this story in my head over and over; recalling the nights I lied awake thinking and overthinking every portion of what I had learned about the Monster. I recounted the play by play of what happened to me, the blog and what I had uncovered about the other girls. The more we penetrated into the details of the twisted, convoluted plot, the more Thomas and Gary glanced up at each other; their silent acknowledgement of uneasiness as I unearthed each detail.

I had already provided them documents for them to review. On paper, perhaps, the case was simple, but this; this was not fully what they were expecting.

The looked at each other and sighed a few times; never without words to say, though sometimes, perhaps, wondering if there ever would be the right thing to say.

I spoke in a clear and concise manner, the tremble in my voice certainly obvious, though I wasn’t going to let tears run the show this time. My eyes remained dry up until the point that Thomas asked another direct question.

“What do you want out of this?”

I could feel my eyes well up and at that point, I knew I had to give in. As tears streamed down both cheeks, I didn’t dare to break eye contact.

“I just want this to be over,” I said. My dad grabbed my arm and squeezed it three times. Our secret symbol for “I love you.”

My dad then began to speak and I heard his voice crack into what seemed like a million pieces. And, for the first time since his own mother died, I saw my father cry.

“The toll this has taken on not just Lindsay, but on me and my wife and our son,” he started choking up; pausing momentarily to catch his breath. “We will never fully recover. We let this monster into our home.”

Barry and Thomas nodded in empathetic agreement, both letting out an exhausted sigh in solidarity.

“The fact that this son of a bitch robbed us of money is one thing, but it’s also the time. The time my daughter wasted. Time that should have been spent being happy and starting a family…” he looked in my direction and frowned; his lips quivering into a soft whimper.

“The fact that maybe now, she can’t have a family…I c-can’t even start to understand how that can be…”

The attorneys looked at each other again and without pause, Barry spoke.

“We understand, Doug. Both Thomas and I have a daughter Lindsay’s age,” he said as he looked in my direction and smiled politely.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Thomas then started. “We’re going to take care of you. Because its just the right thing to do. You both have been through enough.”

I looked up from my tissue not fully understanding what he was saying.

“Now there will be some small court filing fees here and there, but as a partner of this firm, we will not charge you a retainer or for our time.”

My jaw dropped and I could feel my dad let out the breath he had been patiently holding as we both began to thank them repeatedly.

As my dad continued his thank yous and we all discussed our formal plan, Barry turned to me and smiled.

“Lindsay, you need to stop worrying about this,” he said warmly. “This is our problem now, and no matter what, we will solve it. It’s going to be over very soon.”

And in that moment, I finally let go.

***

I spoke with Barry and Ann occasionally over the next two months; meeting Ann in person to sign paperwork. She was just as pleasant as she was terrifying and I knew very quickly that to go up against her in litigation would be an absolutely delicious nightmare.

While the Monster was successful in evading being served, my legal team worked symbiotically with those representing the condo board, explaining the situation I was in and how I wasn’t legally responsible for the funds that were owed. They agreed to suspend our impending court date and hired a private investigator to try and find where the Monster had been hiding. For a while, we thought he had fled. To be honest, he probably should have.

The gratitude I felt for this team was unending. They held my hand without me having to ask; walking me through every option, every possibility all while enjoying and, occasionally participating in, my humorous jabs at the Monster’s expense. I truly love them and owe them so much more praise and money than words would ever express on this simple blog. Because of them, I knew it was going to be okay.

***

January 2020

After New Years, I received a message from a friend; a friend who had approached the Monster regarding buying our old condo. While the details of how the Monster came to make this deal are abysmal, I nevertheless was grateful to finally have a way out.

I contacted Barry and Ann immediately. They reached out to the attorney representing him for the sale. The Monster had agreed to pay all back expenses to the condo board as well as all closing costs and fees associated with the sale; all listed out per my General Release. While I was ecstatic to be nearing the end, the offer; however, would unfortunately provide no proceeds to either one of us. Instead, the Monster was going to have to pay in order to get out from under it.

My jaw about dropped when I saw what the Monster was set to pay at closing; laughing hysterically to myself at the irony of the amount; almost exactly what he owed my parents and I to make good on his promise.

$33,839.12

Ahhh, karma really is a bitch.

***

January 16th, 2020

I sat anxiously in my chair at the office; trying to use any excuse to distract me from the news I was anxiously awaiting. The closing.

Because of all I had told Barry and Thomas about the Monster, they felt it would be best if I didn’t show up to the closing that day. Instead, Barry graciously offered to be my Power of Attorney and I granted him rights to sign any and all closing documents on my behalf.

I still smirk thinking of the Monster sitting in that cold conference room across from my team of lawyers, expecting to see me one last time; to torture me one last time.

Sorry, Asshole.

At about 3:00 p.m. I heard a familiar “ding” come from my computer and all at once I shot up and put my arms up and my hands to the top of my head.

An e-mail from Ann.

“It’s done.”

My coworkers immediately started clapping and cheering intermittently; knowing all too well what news I had been waiting for and knowing how long it took me to get here.

It wasn’t long before Ben came bounding over to my desk, engulfing me in the biggest hug I didn’t know I needed. I let myself linger there with him wrapped around me.

“Finally,” he said. “This chapter is over.”

***

Later that afternoon, after our friends and co-workers had slowly trickled out of the office, Ben came back over to my desk and sat down in the empty seat next to me.

“We need to go out and celebrate,” he said enthusiastically. “C’mon grab your jacket!”

We hurried down to the Red Line at Washington station and grabbed the first northbound train, getting off at the next stop at Grand Avenue. As we walked up the stairs towards street level, it had occurred to me where he was taking me.

Ramen-San.

The irony wasn’t lost on me as we walked into the trendy and cozy spot. It was the exact place where it all started; where the Monster took me to dinner before he unleashed all that he had done. We were here to make a new memory, to make sure that all the bad ones associated with people, places and things were replaced with feelings of joy and hope.

As we poured the sake and clicked our glasses to cheers, Ben turned to me and smiled. “How do you feel?”

I looked at him and smiled, feeling warm yet incredibly unsure; the uneasiness that I had become so accustomed to was still there.

I looked up at him and reached for his hand that he had reached out towards mine, holding it tightly.

“To be honest; I don’t even know who I am anymore,” I said sincerely as the tears began yet again. “I don’t remember what life felt like; what I felt like before this all happened.”

Ben looked at me, and despite my depressed state, he smiled.

“You will.”

***