“Also to your HOA. You should be getting a warning from them. I’m just looking out for the children,” she says, tucking her glossy blond bob behind her ear and smiling with her flashy veneers. She twists her ring again and gives me a wink before turning to walk back to the front door.
Don’t react, don’t respond, I tell myself. Everyone in town has seen us go at it. Everyone has seen me react to this taunting, and I always look like the psycho. I used to be the one who looked like the victim, until enough time went by where people thought I should be over it, I guess... but they don’t see what she’s doing. She’s a master at making it appear like she’s just looking out for the greater good, and I’m some sort of menace to society. And that would be fine if it were just about me, but what if she’s sinking her finely manicured little hooks into my kids? Could there really be a scenario where Ray would win custody? She literally has a file folder full of allegations and accusations. I get out of the car and take out my phone and stab at the camera icon.
Before Tia gets inside, she sees me practically speed-walking toward her back gate. I snap a photo of the grass in the side yard.
“Overgrown grass. HOA violation,” I say, then swing open the gate to the backyard, where Ray sits on a deck chair, drinking a craft beer and listening to Journey. I take a video.
“Noise violation! The music is too loud,” I yell over the Bluetooth speaker on the table, and it is pretty loud so I feel good about that one. The kids are inside, no doubt eating pizza in front of a video game, so I keep going. Ray has been startled to his feet and Tia is marching over to me, holding up the ends of her weird linen dress with fire in her eyes, but I duck past her and march to the opposite side yard with bothTia and Ray following behind, and I hear some mumbles from Ray about “taking it easy” and “going on home,” but I ignore him. I knock over the recycling bin and start snapping photos.
“Look at all this shit that shouldn’t be in the recycling. Jesus. Bubble Wrap? An aerosol can? Are you some kind of Neanderthal?” Just as I notice she’s hovering over me in a rage, Tia swats the phone out of my hand and it hits the grass with a thud. Then she pushes my shoulder.
“Get off my property! You’re trespassing!”
“Oh, is it yours? Is it your property? I guess I thought Ray bought the house. Am I mistaken? Can a part-time Pilates instructor afford a three-point-two-million-dollar house these days? Well, pardon me, I guess.” With this, she slaps me across the face.
I’m a little shocked she had the balls to do that, so it stuns me into silence for just a moment. Then I pick up my phone from the ground. Soft landing, thank God, so it’s not broken. I press Record on the camera.
“This woman just assaulted me. For the record,” I say, camera in Tia’s face. I’m not trying to be one of those women who ends up on the Dr. Phil show. I’m really not trying to be petty, but goddammit. This is about my children and someone actively plotting to get them taken from me. It’s time I get a little angrier and stop taking the high road, because nobody can see me way up here on this freaking road. My voice can’t be heard way up here. I keep thinking surely people will eventually see who Tia is, that her true colors will come through, but nobody can see through her. This can’t go on.
I turn off the camera, satisfied I have something to show now, too. Even though I didn’t get the slap on video, it’s something.
“All right, Andi, get the hell outta here, come on,” Ray says weakly, and he tries to put his hand on Tia’s shoulder and walk away with her back into the house, but she loses it. She absolutely loses it and lunges at me with a shriek, and before I know it, I’m on the ground with grass-burned knees, breathlessly trying to push her off me.
“Give me that fucking phone,” she growls. She’s trying to wrench the phone out of my hand as she straddles me on a bed of Russian sage.
“Are you out of your mind?” I scream. I can see a couple neighbors watching now. Tia is small but wiry, it turns out, and she manages to get the phone out of my hand, just as Ray finally pulls her off me. She takes the phone and flings it into the driveway, shattering the screen.
I really cannot believe what I’m witnessing. I push myself to stand. I brush wet grass off my jeans and pull a leaf out of my hair and just stare at both of them.
“Go inside, Ti,” Ray says. She pushes his hand away.
“I can sue you for this, you know. Assault. Destruction of property!” I yell, infuriated now.
“Just try it. You’ll see what I can really do to you,” she hisses under her breath.
“Is that a threat? Everyone hear that?” I say, looking to the neighbors who pretend not to see now, all of a sudden, and go about their business. “You’re the one who better watch your back! You think breaking my screen erased that video, psycho? You want a fight? You have one. I’m done. That’s it!” I peer into the living room window and get a glance of the kids. Thank God for loud PlayStation games and a well-built house—it looks like they didn’t hear anything. So I pick up my phone and walk to my car, resisting holding up my middlefinger because this doesn’t really need to sink any lower than it already has.
“Don’t threaten us,” Ray says pathetically, probably feeling like he has to do something.
“Oh, fuck off, Ray,” I say. Then I drive away.
I drive around the lake blinking back tears, partly because I’m just so pissed off, but also because of how everyone has witnessed my war with Tia and I’m embarrassed, honestly. It’s not the person I want to be. It’s not the person I am.
Do I need to wear a sign that says Ray begged for me to stay and forgive him after I caught him with her? I was the one strong enough to walk out—she got him by default, and I’m not some victim here. I’m not the jealous scorned ex causing drama, but that’s what it looks like to everyone. And how am I even thinking about this after what happened to Ally? It makes me feel even more pathetic that this is what my energy is focused on. I know this is similar to the way people see Regan. She pops pills and flies off the handle and snaps at everyone, but because of what happened to her, there’s a sense of quiet pity, and people rally around to support her. My husband’s not dead, so I don’t get to act like this. There was a certain window of time allotted for me to lose it, and now I’m expected to shut up and move on.
I try to shake it all off as I walk into the kitchen and put my shattered phone on the counter, grabbing a kitchen towel to wipe the wet leaves from my hair. I see Carson standing in front of the sliding glass doors leading out to the back deck. He’s on the phone and I can tell something is wrong by the tension in his posture and the way he hasn’t turned around to give me a silent greeting. Shit. What now?
He hangs up the call and turns to see me.
“What the hell happened to you?” he asks, and I’m just too humiliated to tell him about what was essentially a catfight.
“I had a tumble. The grass was slippery. I’m fine. What’s wrong? I can tell something’s going on.”
He sighs. “Let’s sit.” He nods to the door and I follow him to the deck, where he’s already poured a couple glasses of wine. We sit on the sofa next to the fireplace.
“What?” I ask.
“There was... a sort of bomb threat at the elementary school.” I put my wineglass down and leap to my feet.
