I pulled out my phone and opened Facebook. I didn’t have to look far. I’m part of the Oak Creek community watch group. I joined mostly to see if anyone found lost dogs or to get recommendations for plumbers. But there it was, right at the top of the feed, posted 4 minutes ago. Brenda Miller posted a video. Title: Criminal elements in our midst. Caption: Sad day for Oak Creek. Police were called to handle a vagrant individual loitering on a porch at 402 Maple Drive. Police did nothing. The liberal agenda has tied their hands. This individual was menacing me and casing the neighborhood. I fear for our children. He claims to live there, but has no respect for community standards. Watch out. Keep your doors locked. The video was shaky footage of me standing in my socks, looking confused, while the police lights flashed. It was framed perfectly to make it look like I was being interrogated for a double homicide, rather than asked about my rocking chair. The comments were already rolling in. Susan G: Oh my god, is that the blue house? I walk past there every day. So scary. Rick T: This is what happens when we let the neighborhood go. Property values are going to tank. Thanks a lot, 402. Linda P: He looks like he’s on something. Look at his eyes, glassy. Definitely drugs. My blood ran cold. She wasn’t just being annoying. She was assassinating my character. She was painting a target on my back.
I scrolled through the comments, my thumb hovering over the report button. But I knew it wouldn’t matter. Brenda was the admin of the group. I put the phone down on the granite island. I looked out the kitchen window at her house across the street. The lights were on. I could see her silhouette moving past the window. She was probably on the phone rallying the troops, calling the HOA board members, drafting letters. She wanted a war? She wanted to police my porch? Fine. If she didn’t like me sitting on a simple wooden rocking chair, she was absolutely going to hate what came next. I opened my laptop. I wasn’t going to retreat. I was going to expand. If I was going to be the porch loiterer, I needed a better porch. I needed a porch that was undeniable.
A porch that was visible from space. I typed “general contractors near me” into Google. I needed someone who didn’t care about noise. Someone who could build fast and build big. Someone who looked at an HOA handbook and saw toilet paper. I clicked on a link for Big Mike’s Decks and Renos. The website looked like it had been built in 2005, and the testimonial on the front page said, “Mike built my deck. It holds my hot tub and my mother-in-law. Five stars.” I dialed the number. “Big Mike speaking,” a voice rumbled. It sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. “Hi, Mike,” I said, my voice steady. “I need a deck, a big one, front of the house. I want a pergola. I want built-in seating. I want it to take up the maximum allowable square footage permitted by the county zoning laws to within 1 inch of the limit.” “Sounds like a party,” Mike said. “When do you want to start?” “Tomorrow,” I said. “And Mike, do you have experience dealing with difficult neighbors?” Mike laughed. It was a loud, booming sound. “Son, difficult neighbors are why I charge extra. But for you, if it’s a good story, I might do the headache part for free.” “Oh, it’s a story,” I said, looking out the window at Brenda’s house. “And it’s only chapter one.”
