What should I do when “Ed” comes around for dinner? I’ve shown him the door multiple times, yet he keeps returning.
My first encounter with Ed was when I was just shy of 18. At the time, I didn’t realize how dangerous this relationship could be. He approached me during a late-night stroll back to my dorm. Strangely enough, he felt like an old friend, someone who understood my struggles. Over the years, he accompanied me on countless late-night trips to the Off Campus Deli, where I would pick at my turkey sub and ponder life.
We wandered through campus together until the early hours, our footsteps echoing on Spring Street and around the Quad near Sigma Chi. I appreciated his presence then; he kept me company when I felt alone. Every run I took, he pushed me to go faster, urging me to cover 10 miles daily, seven days a week. While my peers enjoyed pizza and beer on Friday nights, Ed would snuggle next to me, whispering sweet nothings into my ear.
But as time passed, our relationship shrank. I could no longer move without him, and his presence suffocated me. Eventually, I asked him to leave.
Years later, at 37, our paths crossed again. We were both adults now, and our reunion felt comfortable and familiar. He watched me sketch with charcoal, accompanied me to therapy, and filled my evenings with stories that reminded me that he was my lifeline, as if I existed only through him. The irony was palpable. Once more, I asked him to leave.
My time with Ed provided a false sense of control, a calm that masked my inner chaos. At 18, I was processing trauma from a recent assault. By 37, I was escaping a toxic marriage. Ed was my confidant throughout these experiences, but ultimately, he nearly led me to my demise. I came to realize that this was his ultimate goal.
Now at 48, Ed has re-entered my life without an invitation, this time targeting my nearly 18-year-old daughter. I watch her pick out potatoes from her clam chowder and tear the crust off her grilled cheese, rearranging her plate to disguise her eating habits. A slight smile graces her lips, and I can almost hear Ed’s voice whispering those same sweet nothings, trying to ensnare her as well.
So now, I find myself walking in silence until the early hours of the morning when I don’t have my kids, desperately searching for ways to protect my daughter from this insidious influence. I roam Parker Street, Main Street, and through the village near the Baptist Church, pondering what I should do when Ed shows up for dinner again tomorrow.
As I wrestle with this overwhelming situation, I can’t help but wonder… perhaps if I just lose some weight.
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