The Girl Who Learned To Kneel

Let’s talk about gated communities. They’re very popular here in America. Less popular in Canada. In fact, I only know of one in Toronto. Once I played tennis within this said community’s secure boundaries. Oh the joys of lobbing a ball back and forth without the dangers of people lurking. Well that isn’t quite true. A few old men carrying golf clubs looked on all scary like. But I just knew they wouldn’t hurt me.

Here in Southern California gated communities are rampant, securing rows of very large cookie cutter houses. The symmetry is remarkable and very safe.

We happen to live in a gated community ourselves. Though we didn’t know it when we signed the lease. Partly because we had been driving for a hundred hours and could barely see straight. Partly because we didn’t know to look for gates. In our world gates are annoying. They mean you have to walk all the way around instead of straight in.

Fortunately we discovered it’s just a pretend gated community, a pseudo gated community meant to woo renters with the illusion of secure rods of metal. Little do these prospects know, the gate is usually wide open. And even when it’s closed, there are numerous ways to get in on foot.

There doesn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason for the opening and closing of our gate. We can only assume that she is moody and prone to bouts of fear. Sometimes she is very afraid and has to forcibly keep out wandering strangers. Like the scary men riding bicycles or the menacing women pushing grocery carts with bags of recycling or the mothers with strange slings carrying what appear to be babies, but could be dogs or possibly protruding tumors.

On other days when she has had plenty of sleep she’s not afraid at all. Hard to say.

Darn those gated communities.

Maybe doggone is more like it.

She pulls on her robe and peers through the blinds. It’s back. The beer can.

“The beer can is back.”

“Really?”

“Are you as weirded out as me?”

“It’s a little weird.”

“Why are YOU freaked out?”

“Well aren’t you?”

“Of course. Some one is stalking us with a beer can! But if you’re weirded out too, that means it’s really weird. Like creepy.”

“Nothing’s going to happen. They’re just trying to make a statement about our parking. They can’t handle us parking in two spots.”

“Even though the parking lot is half empty.”

“Some people are legalist crazies.”

“What is wrong with people?

“What if it’s Maggie trying to communciate with you? Sort of a tease. You know…play my game.”

“Okay, that’s more creepy.”

“Or Anthony?”

“Even worse. He doesn’t drink beer out of cans anyway…does he?”

“I think he might.”

“I want this person to NOT be someone we know.”

“I’m gonna try and catch them on camera. Like they do on those shows. I could be a pretty good profiler.”

“That sounds dangerous. This person could be a total psycho. We should go inside now.”

“Or it could be the nice Spanish lady who plows through the recycling.”

“Why would she leave a beer can?”

“She’s also a parking nazi. It happens.”