A local creep named Fred, a Newfie who owned a snack truck, developed a crush on Carla and was dogging her and showing up at her apartment complex. I only found out about this situation after it had been going on for some time. Carla didn't have the common sense to tell this guy to get lost or she'd call the cops. I took her to the police, where she made a formal complaint. However, she kept giving the detective so much irrelevant "background information" that he thought she had a screw loose. I could see it in his eyes. At one point he excused himself and left us alone. No doubt, he was listening to us through a concealed mike to see if Carla was a fake. I admonished her to cut out the irrelevant details and be done with it because it was dinner hour and the detective obviously wanted to go home.

     Fred's lawyer kept asking for postponements, and Carla stupidly agreed. I got angry and told her, "Just deal with it, for Christ's sake!" The day came when I escorted her to court for the trial. Fred lied through his teeth and said Carla was a prostitute who had 17 boyfriends. When Carla got on the stand, she was very agitated and swore she wasn't a prositute, even though nobody took Fred seriously. Once again, she embarrassed me by trying to defend herself when there was no need. Anyway, Fred got convicted of "watching and besetting" and didn't bother her ever again.

     Carla had not been in her new apartment very long when she decided to move again -- to a more expensive town house. "You'll have to get someone else to help you because I'm not going through that again," I told her. As it happened, she had someone else -- a new friend named Armas, who had a business and who was going to give her a job taking messages for him at her home. It was this job offer that encouraged her to move.

     Shortly after the move, Carla informed me that Armas told her he was in love with her. I wasn't concerned. She would just have to tell him she wasn't available. Whether Armas was sincere is doubtful in retrospect, because he proved to be a crackpot and a liar. Carla told me that he was a man of many talents: he owned a sporting goods store, he designed and built original furniture, he was a restorer of antiques, and he was involved in sundry business enterprises. Naturally, I was interested to meet this guy. We drove to his store, which was a very small storefront in a strip mall, and we sat in his cluttered "workshop" for an hour and a half. During that time he talked about philosophy and religion and didn't do a lick of work. One customer came in and bought a package of golf balls. When Carla and I finally left, I was puzzled about Armas. He was supposed to pay her $400 a month to be his answering service but didn't appear to have much cash flow.

     The worst-case scenario unfolded. Armas borrowed a pillow from Carla so he could sleep in his store. He also borrowed an old van she owned but didn't drive because it was broken. He never returned it. We drove to his store and found a sign from his landlord indicating he'd been locked out for non-payment of rent. Carla called his wife, who Armas had said was a sick monster. Not surprisingly, she said the same thing about him: he was out of his mind and not to be trusted. Needless to say, Carla never got a dollar out of him, and now that she was in a more expensive place, she was really in a jam.

     Her church friends helped her out by buying a few of her paintings. And very possibly the church helped her out directly, which she would never have admitted to me.

     Desperate for money, Carla tried selling advertising for a promotional map detailing local businesses, and she toyed with the idea of doing early-morning newspaper deliveries. Unfortunately, her driver's license was expired.

     By this time I was very unhappy with Carla. The plain truth is that I did not want to be part of such a trouble-prone, complicated life. But she was more determined than ever to get me to marry her. She had already tried two ploys: she told me she was pregnant, and she coached her son to tell me to marry her so we could all live happily "in the church." Now she tried two other ploys: she said she had cancer, and she said an intruder had molested her in the laundry room. When I called from Toronto to say I wasn't coming back, she threatened to commit suicide.

     I didn't come back, and she didn't commit suicide. I was glad to be rid of her, but I judged myself harshly for staying in the relationship as long as I did.

     About a year later, Carla called and asked me to come out for a friendly visit. I relented. We sat on the patio, and she complained about not having a man. I took pity on her, and we went inside and had sex.

     I never saw or spoke to Carla again after that. However, I did get occasional reports from the lady who had originally fixed us up. Carla married a man in the church, a widower with three children and a good business. After a few years, he left her unexpectedly. His business had failed and he had found a rich widow. He said to Carla, "It's not that I don't love you any more. I'm only leaving you for her because she has money." So much for Mormon family values.

     After that, Carla became depressed and put on a huge amount of weight. She was also on the outs with the church for a while. I'm not sure what happened, but I believe she wanted to sue someone over the price of a painting and the church intervened. Carla was very unbusinesslike, so she was probably in the wrong. Anyway, after a period of suspension she was let back into the congregation.

     The last report I got was that Carla's mother had died, and she got the house. She lived alone. Her son, now in his twenties, had moved out and was in business for himself. I knew that Carla could never be happy without a man. I don't know if she ever found another one. It would have to be someone strong-willed enough to keep her out of trouble and make decisions for her, while giving her the love and stability she never got from her parents.