The first week Hocus lived here, Captain and I were awake to hear a pounding at the front door at 3am.
Captain and I do not have typical 9-5 jobs and skate by financially with art work. We sleep in the AM, work (if there is any work) in the afternoons and art until the wee hours. Even with our wonky sleep schedule, someone knocking on our door at 3am is alarming.
We were hesitant to open the door but considered that one of our neighbors may need help. So we answered the door with caution. There, we found one of the local crack whores. She usually patrols the trolley lines and rarely wanders down the residential side streets like ours. She asked for Hocus by his real name, John, explaining that she was his friend and needed to talk to him. Now, her knowing his real name gave some sense of validity to her claim of knowing him. We woke Hocus up and brought him to the door where he privately shooed the woman away and came back inside. Naturally, Captain and I teased him for "not inviting his girlfriend in". Hocus insisted that he had given her a cigarette earlier that day and she returned to the house to proposition him.
At 6am, however, the woman returned, furious, pounding on our front door and screaming for money she was owed. This time Hocus scurried with her across the street and dismissed her in private.
It seems very likely to me that Hocus made some agreement with this woman and failed to hold up his end of the bargain. Whether or not services were actually provided, I cannot say. But arrangements were at the very least made and broken.
A display of the great extent of delusion.
I had been out of town for a couple of weeks. And When I returned, Captain was on his way out of town as well. Leaving just me and Hocus in the house.
Last night I noticed that the towel buffering the drafty windowsill in the livingroomwas on the floor along with a few other things that were on the endtable by the window. I remarked, in confusion. Hocus snuck away into the kitchen as if he didn't notice and this suggested guilt. He muttered something about the cats making the mess and disappeared.
It doesn't help to wonder what he is hiding because it could be anything from an angry hooker to a broken dish. Surely, whatever it was I will find out sure enough. I surmised that he was fussing with the cable cords coming through the window, knocked everything over and just didn't bother to pick it up. Tidiness and dexterity are not his strong suits. His guilty-behavior was probably over leaving a mess. I thought no more of it for the rest of the night.
This morning, I got up for work and went down into the empty living room. I felt a draft coming from the same window as last night and inspected it. I saw, through the window, footprints in the snow leading from the back alley straight to that window. But no footprints leaving the yard.
Now, the PS3 and flat screen TV were all untouched. If someone came into the house, they didn't rob us. And who would enter the house through the window only to leave through the front door?
The most plausible explanation was that Hocus lost his keys and came in through the window. Thereby, making a mess coming in and acting all weird and guilty when I noticed all of it. I rolled my eyes at this thought and, just to be thorough, I went out back to properly inspect the other doors and windows.
Only one set of foot prints in the whole yard, a straight line from the alley to the window mentioned and no trail leading away from it. The foot prints had puddles of ice inside them - meaning the sun had been beating down on the prints. So I'm guessing he came in through the window at least the night before last.
These are important details to me because they verify that it was, in fact, hocus who came into the house. And not someone else. Simply asking Hocus if they were his foot prints or if he came in through the window would guarantee a false-negative because he never tells the truth about anything.
But what I observed convinced me it was safe to leave for work.
However, on my way home, knowing that I would be home alone all day long, I felt I should attempt to confirm Hocus' foot prints before entering the house. If anything, I could use his inconsistencies to further deduce affirmation.
So I called and asked him "Dude, tell me these are your footprints in the back yard before I call the police." (A bluff.) He played dumb, stalling to build a story and already I felt I had my answer. He spun a poor story about how he was "concerned about that window last night" and, after I fell asleep (which I didn't sleep last night, BTW) he went out the back door and inspected the yard and window.
I called him out. Told him that there was only ONE trail from the alley to the window, no where near the door, and no trail exiting. He went through the window. I told him, I don't care if he came in through the window, I just needed to know the foot prints were his.
I have been getting text messages of the retelling of his story - trying to convince me that he didn't come in through the window and that he did, indeed, go out and back in through the kitchen door, not the alley. And that there are two sets of tracks...as I am looking out over the back yard at the single trail.
This is a total rejection of reality.
I noted today, when I came home from work to an empty house, that the front door was unlocked. Hocus is at work right now and sending me messages insisting that he never came from the alleyway, through the yard,and into the window. I suspect that he does not have his key and was counting on no one to come home before him. I am tempted to recreate the events that I believe occured about two nights ago, when Hocus locked himself out of the house.
I worry if that is childish.