Walter Smith was tired at the end of a long day at the office. His jaw muscles were sore from being clenched most of the day from dealing with one high-stress situation after another. When it was time to go home from the office, he had to fight traffic for an hour to get home. After an hour of sitting in the car in the hot sun, nudging his car forward, inch by inch, he finally let out a sigh of relief when he approached his front door, only to find it partly open.
“What the…” He remembered closing and locking the door when he left. Could someone be inside? Someone who is not family? Cautiously, he eased the door open and peaked in. He was somewhat relieved to find his neighbor, Dan Corona, sitting on his livingroom couch. They had been neighbors for a few years.
“Welcome home, Walt!” said Dan.
“Uh, hi, Dan. What’s going on?”
“Oh, I’m just watching the game on your TV. You’ve got a nice TV.”
“Yeah, thanks, Dan,” said Walter. He was not comfortable with Dan barging in and taking over his living room when he was away, but he didn’t want to bring it up, because the subject would be awkward.
“Where’s Michelle?” asked Walter tentatively.
“Your wife? She’s out shopping.”
“And Jill?”
“I think she’s in her room,” said Dan, motioning toward the back of the house with his thumb. Walter noticed that Dan had taken one of his beers out of the refrigerator and had set it on their oak coffee table without a coaster.
“Say, Dan…” Walter trailed off. Dan did not seem to notice, but continued watching the game. There must have been some interesting play, because he suddenly jumped off the couch with both fists raised above his head, an expression of pure, exuberant glee on his face, screaming “Score!”
“Dan!” said Walter.
“Oh, hey, Walt.”
“You…ah…mind using a coaster?”
“Oh, sure. Sorry about that. I couldn’t find any coasters when I got here.”
“They’re right there on the table.”
“Oh yeah? Oh, that’s what those are,” said Dan with raised eyebrows. “I thought that was something else.”
“Listen, Dan,” said Walter, trying not to get upset. “Why are you in my living room?”
“What?”
“Dan, you are in my living room. I didn’t invite you.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, our TV broke down, and seeing how we’re friends and all, I figured you wouldn’t mind if I watched the game on yours. It’s the playoffs, you know, and I wouldn’t want to miss it. I figured that it’s cool, you know. I mean, if you were home, you would have invited me over anyway, right?” In fact, Walter had often invited Dan over to watch football and drink beers, so it was not unusual for him to be there, except that he wasn’t invited.
“OK, Dan. I probably would have invited you over, but I wasn’t here, so I didn’t actually invite you.”
“Well, it’s cool, though, right? ‘Cause we’re neighbors and all. Hey, want a beer?” he asked. Walter realized that Dan was offering him one of his own beers.
“Yeah, Dan. I’ll go to my fridge and get one of my beer’s in a minute. Now listen, Dan. I had a long, tough day at the office, and I was kind of hoping to come home and relax. Maybe read or something. I’m not really in the mood for company, if you know what I mean.”
Dan looked crushed. “Sure, I see how you are,” he huffed with obvious resentment. “Sure thing, man. I’ll be out of your way. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Dan started to get up from the couch, then he seized the remote and clicked the television off after fumbling with the buttons for a few seconds. “So, I’ll just turn off the television so you can read…or whatever,” he said, letting the suggestion of “whatever” dangle in the air like some shared secret.
“OK, so I’ll see you around, then,” said Walter, partially relieved and partially uneasy about the vague tension.
As Dan left, Walter turned on the porch light for him as he closed the door. He waited for Dan to be out of earshot before he tried to throw the deadbolt. The deadbolt was gone.
“Son of a—“
“Has he left yet, Daddy?” asked Jill, poking her head out from her room.
“Yeah, he’s gone,” said Walt, fumbling with the door. He realized that he could not secure the house at all now. The front door would simply not lock.
“Why did you invite him to come over when you weren’t here?” asked Jill, coming out of her room. She looked both confused and angry.
“I didn’t invite him. He just decided to come over. I think he broke the lock,” he said, gesturing at the open door that was missing a bolt. “Where’s your mother?”
“Out shopping, I guess,” said Jill.
Walter dragged the phone book out and started looking for locksmiths. He would not be able to sleep tonight until the house was secured. After a long day at work, this was the last thing he wanted to do.
After several calls, he found a locksmith that was willing to come by that late at night, but he charged extra for it, and Walter was forced to pay just so he could have some peace of mind. He got to sleep after midnight that night, totally exhausted and drained.
When he woke up the next morning, there were sounds coming from the kitchen. He was looking forward to that first cup of coffee and some breakfast. It was unusual for Michelle to get up so early to cook breakfast, so he wondered what the occasion was. As he sat up in bed, though, he noticed that Michelle was still asleep in bed, snoring softly. It was seven a.m. Jill would certainly not be up this early on a Saturday, he thought. Then, a creeping dread arose within the pit of his stomach and spread through the rest of his body, bringing ice to the back of his neck as he remembered the events of the previous day.
Walter got up violently and threw a robe on before storming down the stairs to the kitchen, where he found Dan, his wife and three kids all eating at their kitchen table.
“Good morning, Walt. Hey, listen, you’re out of eggs. Do you think you could go to the store and get some more eggs?”
“What?”
“Eggs. You’re out.”
“What the f---“ Walter caught himself before completing the expletive, as there were children in the room, “What the heck are you doing in my kitchen?”
“Eating breakfast, Dan. What does it look like?”
“Let me rephrase that. What the heck are you doing in my kitchen? Why can’t you eat in your own kitchen? How did you even get in here? I just had the deadbolt replaced!” Walter could feel the blood begin to pound in his head. His knuckles were white where he gripped the back of the chair.
“Well, I came in through the back door, and then I unlocked the front door so that Mary and the kids could come in.”
“Why?!”
“So we could have breakfast. We’ve got eggs and hotcakes and breakfast burritos. We’ll make some for you too, don’t worry, except that we’re out of eggs. Oh, and bread. Could you get us some bread while you’re out?”
“I’m not going to get eggs. I’m not going to get bread. I’m going to ask you to please leave at once.”
“Is that any way to treat a neighbor?” asked Dan. Mary looked at him reproachfully. The kids began to cry. “Now look what you’ve done,” said Mary. “You’ve started the kids crying!”
“Neighbors don’t barge in to their neighbors houses without invitations,” said Walter. “I see what you’ve done here. You’re trying to make me look like the heavy because I’m being unfriendly, but I should be asking you the very same question: Is this any way to treat a neighbor? Get out!”
“Dad, what’s the…” Jill came down the stairs in her pajamas, her hair all askew and her face still lined from the wrinkles in the pillowcase. “Why are the Coronas here?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” said Walter. “Look, Dan, we’ve been neighbors for a long time. Obviously, we have different definitions of what being a good neighbor is, so I’ll tell you what it means to me. It means that we respect one another’s property. It means we don’t barge in to one another’s homes without invitation. It means we don’t eat the other person’s food without invitation, and finally, it means we don’t go into our neighbor’s house, uninvited, and then start making demands on our neighbors to get eggs and bread in order to continue to eat our neighbors’ food in our neighbor’s kitchen. Are we clear? Neighbor?”
“Crystal,” said Dan, dejected. Mary threw him a vicious look that made him wince, as though someone had poured vinegar in his eyes. The kids took their bawling up a few decibels as Michelle come down the steps. Jill tried to relate what was happening to her mother as the Coronas began to file out the front door from which they came, leaving the dirty dishes behind.
After they left, Jill asked “What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to start by fixing the lock on the back door,” said Walter, rubbing his head with his fingers.
“I don’t see why you had to be so rude to them,” snapped Michelle.
“What?”
“They’re our neighbors, dear, not criminals. They just came over for some breakfast, and you yelled at them and made the children cry. What kind of beast are you?”
“What?”
“That was extremely rude, Walter! Now I want you to go over there and apologize.”
“Apologize!?” said Walter, too stunned even to offer a counterargument. It was just unbelievable that his own wife would take their side in all this. He was still trying to decide if she was joking or not when she was dialing their number on the telephone. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Ssh!” she hissed at him. Then, instantly transforming her voice into that of a polite diplomat, she talked into the phone. “Hello, Mrs. Corona? It’s Michelle. Look, I’m terribly sorry about what just happened here. Walter says he’s sorry too—“
“I did not!” growled Walter.
“He wants to make it up to you at the earliest opportunity.”
“Get off the phone,” barked Walter, getting up, suddenly mobilized by both confusion and anger.
“Six it is, then!” said Michelle. “Bye!” Then she hung up the phone.
“What did you just do?” asked Walter.
“Nothing,” she said impishly, and then traipsed back up the stairs, her head held high, conveying an incorruptible delusion of moral superiority.
“What just happened, Dad?” asked Jill.
“I don’t know, honeybunch,” sighed Walter, shaking his head in utter disbelief. “I just don’t know.”
As the day went by, Walter was dreading the hour of six o’clock more and more as it loomed. He could not get his wife to tell him what indignity awaited him, so there was no way to prepare himself. He considered leaving the house entirely, but then he would not have any way to keep an eye on things. On the other hand, he truly dreaded having another screaming contest with the neighbors, who seemed to be oblivious to his obvious discomfort. He also could not fathom his wife taking their side. It was something he simply failed to grasp in any way. It made no sense to him. He was pretty sure that Jill was on his side, but since Jill had absolutely no real power in the household, he was really the only bastion of civilization and reason in the house that was capable of action. He decided that it was best if Jill was not around. He told her to stay at a friend’s house if she could manage it, and that he would try to handle things on the home front. Jill seemed to be on the verge of tears, but then she relented and called one of her friends to try to arrange an outing.
At about a quarter to six, some strangers showed up. Walter had never seen them before in his life. They waited outside on the front lawn. A few minutes later, more of them arrived. Some of them were eating and drinking from fast food restaurants and discarding the trash on the front lawn. By the time six o’clock rolled by, Michelle came down and opened the front door wide and in one movement, they instantly swarmed inside, talking and laughing, dragging kegs, boom boxes and other party favors inside. Once inside, they began establishing the mood, which was urban Bacchanal.
“A party?” asked Walter. Michelle gave him a pert smile and walked back up the stairs.
“No, this is not going down in my house,” thought Walter.
At that moment, Dan came in with a boom box on his shoulder with the volume turned up. His head was cocking back and forth like that of a pigeon and he was biting his lower lip in obvious joy.
“Dan!” yelled Walter above the din. Dan pretended not to hear.
“Dan! Who are all these people?” he demanded, stepping directly in front of him. Dan set the radio on the coffee table, scuffing it. Out of the corner of his eye, Walter saw one of the “guests” shoving some DVDs from his movie collection into his pants. “Put those back!” he shouted. The other man looked up in mild surprise, as though he could not grasp why someone would be upset, as though the loot was simply there for the taking and whoever got to it first was completely within his rights to walk away with it. He held up his hands in a way that suggested either a supplication or a shrug. During the brief exchange, Dan had slipped away. As Walter looked around, he found more of them were coming in through the front door and establishing themselves in different areas of the house. Some were raiding the refrigerator, some were watching television, and all of them were drinking. One of them was absently playing with a switchblade. For the first time, Dan’s rage began to transform into fear.
Cautiously, he crept into a closet and called the police on his cell phone.
“Hello, San Tuario police department. Can I help you?” The woman’s voice was detached and fatigued.
“Yes, there’s a party going…” Walter hadn’t really thought of what to say. He still couldn’t believe it. Were they trespassers or home invaders? He decided that the police would be more likely to come if they were invaders. “There are…my house is being invaded by ah…about thirty people.”
“Is this a home invasion robbery?”
“Yes.”
“OK, sir, we’ll send a car out to your address. Please remain calm and comply with their instructions until we arrive. Can you do that?”
“I think so,” said Walter. He stayed in the closet for the next half hour. Outside, he heard them smashing glass, yelling, and puking in the living room. Walter cowered in the corner of the closet, behind the musty suits that nobody wore, perched atop the leather shoes that had been gathering mildew, suppressing a sneeze.
“Is there a Walter Smith here?” asked a voice. It must be the police, he thought. Walter breathed a sigh of relief and stepped out of the closet. Finally, some authorities have come to the rescue. What he saw when he stepped out was chaos. It did not resemble his home at all. It seemed as though the invaders had totally redecorated his house. None of his own furniture was there, or if it was there, it was buried under mounds of garbage and was unrecognizable. He saw the two police officers walking through the party. Walter held up a hand.
“Are you Walter Smith?” asked one of the police. He had a strong build, square jaw, and a dark moustache that reminded Walter of Joseph Stalin.
“I’m Walter Smith,” he shouted over the din.
“We got a call about a home invasion robber? It looks like you’re having a party here.”
“It’s not a party, officer,” said Walter. “They just stormed in uninvited.”
“That’s not true,” said the other officer. “Your wife invited them over.”
“My…what? Who? When?”
“Dan Corona is your neighbor, correct?”
“Um…” Walter faltered.
“Dan told us that your wife, Michelle, invited him and his friends over for a party. Is this true?”
“I don’t know.”
“She confirmed it,” said the other cop.
“I see,” said Walter.
“And then you called us about a home invasion. Do you know what the penalty is for misreporting a crime?”
“What?” asked Walter.
“We could run you into jail if we wanted,” said the moustached man. “You’re wasting our time. We could be out catching real criminals instead of coming here under false accusations.”
“But they’re trespassing!” said Walter, gesturing widely, encompassing the entire scene of chaos.
“No, they are not trespassing. Your wife invited them,” said the cop. “So, unless someone dies, this isn’t our business.” With that, the police turned and walked away. Several of the celebrants flipped Walter the middle finger after the police left, and a few others grabbed their crotches while doing hip-thrusts at him. The switchblade-wielding man calmly walked over and put an arm around Walter’s shoulder. The man was heavy-set with dark hair and covered in tattoos. Walter was too affronted and afraid to resist.
“You see?” said the man, his beer-breath visibly curling the air in front of him like a mirage. “The law isn’t going to help you. You might as well accept it.”
“Get out,” muttered Walter under his breath. “All of you.”
“The thing is,” the man continued, “You think that just because you paid for this house, signed the paperwork, and built the place up, that you actually own the house. The truth is, we own the house. We own it because there are more of us than there are of you. We own it because we are more aggressive and are willing to exert force to get our way. We own it because your laws that you think protect you from us are not enforced. So, you can either just accept us, or things will get ugly,” he said, patting his back pocket. With that, he gave him a big, drunken, smelly bear hug and pushed him into the middle of the room, where everyone laughed.
Walter decided to just write the house off as a lost cause. It wasn’t worth his life. He knew that he had been beaten and that there was nothing else he could do except get out while he could. He walked up the stairs to the bedroom in order to retrieve his watch. When he opened the door, he saw Dan’s naked body pumping up and down on top of his wife, the two of them fornicating in his own bed. Her nails were raking his back and her legs were clenched behind his so that she could use his motion to leverage herself against him, the two of them making wild animal sounds. Walter’s vision actually turned into a red tunnel, filled with blood.
Something snapped. Then there was an epiphany.
