"It isn't my fault," she pleads.
Standing in the rental house from which she's being evicted, she cries and mascara runs down a pasty white face.
It's not her rental house ... she was just staying there with her boyfriend who'd signed the lease but they didn't get along so he left ... and she stayed.
In frustration, anger and tunnel vision focus only on herself ... she trashed the place.
There's no way she's going to be out by the deadline ... forcing the owner whose already losing money with every second she remains in the house to make an ethical/moral/religious decision on the spot.
Call the Police and confiscate her belongings (all scattered on the floor ... including the pictures of her two small children) or ... give her one more day?
And it's raining.
The owner has done nothing wrong yet feels God's punishing her for past sins.
Most blame belongs to the boyfriend who signed the lease, realized he's in a shitty relationship and ... rather than deal with it ... flees. (I don't know why the story of the Prodigal Son flashes through my head at this point.)
Wearing running shorts that don't cover her ass, dirty hair piled on top of her head, standing over the photographs of her children on the floor ... she cries explaining the boyfriend said he'd paid the rent and she has time to figure out what to do ... and where to go.
"It isn't my fault," she sobs ... using the only weapon she has left ... manipulation.
"This is my kids stuff."
The air is sucked out of the room.
Sitting on the banister of the staircase, bare feet dangling in the air, Styrofoam cup in hand, staring at the trashed house ... I watch and listen ... and think.
Why do good people do bad things?
I don't know how good they are ... most are better than others ... some seem Angelic ... but whatever amount of good is in this mother of two ... and her relocated boyfriend ... has crashed on the shoulders of the owner of the house like a heavy cross ... with Roman shoulders slashing with whips ... in front of a snarling crowd.
It just ain't right," as Grandma Carver used to say.
Why do people ... regardless of how much good they have in them ... do bad things?
Why do tornadoes swoop down blowing up homes and killing people? ... How do tsunamis roll out the sea flooding homes and drowning families? ... Lighting strikes from nowhere killing a father watching the sun set as his family plays in the sand ...
Can it be that bad things are simply part of the way life is?
Let's be honest ... we all got bad in our lives ... some more than others ... and bad always arrives at the worst possible time.
But ... it is what it is ... as my Mother says.
What do you do when it comes?
That's the real question.
What do you do?