Consequences. I repeated serious consequences. Karen emphasized. I’m calling an emergency HOA board meeting for Monday night. We’re going to discuss your multiple violations and what actions need to be taken. I suggest you attend, though. Frankly, the decision is already made. She turned to leave.
Brandon, following her, still filming me, standing there in my swim trunks, dripping water on my own patio. Oh, and one more thing, Karen called over her shoulder. That truck of yours, the one you park in your driveway, I’m having it towed tomorrow. Commercial vehicles are strictly prohibited, and I’ve been far too lenient with you already.
They walked away, Brandon’s laughter echoing back to me. I stood there watching them go, watching my neighbors quickly disappear back into their houses, not wanting to be seen associating with Karen’s latest target. I looked down at my phone, sitting safely in a waterproof case on my patio table. Its recording light was still blinking. I’d captured everything.
Consequences, I muttered to myself, a smile slowly spreading across my face. Yeah, Karen, let’s talk about consequences. That evening after Karen and Brandon left, something unexpected happened. Mrs. Patterson knocked on my door.
She was 72, lived alone since her husband died, and I’d watched her shrink into herself every time Karen drove past. Now she stood on my porch, trembling slightly, holding a casserole dish like a shield. “I saw what happened,” she said quietly. “May I come in?”
Over the next 2 hours, Mrs. Patterson told me everything. Not just about her own experiences, but about the entire neighborhood’s three-year nightmare under Karen’s rule. The garden gnome incident I’d heard about. That was just the beginning.
Karen had fined Mrs. Patterson repeatedly for various violations. Her mailbox was the wrong shade of black. Her doormat was 2 in too large. Her porch light was too bright. The fines totaled over $3,000. Mrs. Patterson was living on social security. Those fines had forced her to skip medications.
I thought about moving, she said, tears welling up. But I’ve lived here for 30 years. My husband and I raised our children here. Why should I be driven out by that woman? You shouldn’t, I said firmly. But what can I do? She controls everything. The board just does whatever she says.
