I stared in disbelief as I watched the construction crew erect the sign on the property next door. "Imperial Lakes - Luxury Homes starting from the 800's" was emblazoned across the top. I just shook my head. All this building was a far cry from what things were like when I had first bought my 25 acre property out here in the 'Ranches' over 30 years ago. Back then we were the only homes this close to the everglades.
I enjoyed the relative obscurity. The ranch became my sanctuary. Lord knows I needed it. Shortly after my wife Jean and I moved in, our family grew. First my son, Jake and then my daughter, Sophie arrived on the scene. It looked like we had a perfect family, from the outside.
Inside however was a different story. The kids were ok and were quickly growing up. Jean on the other hand could never get the upper hand battling her own demons. I did all I could, was as supportive and loving as anyone. It was never enough. Jean resorted to self medicating and no matter what I did to try to intervene I couldn't stop her downward spiral.
The drugs fried her brain. There was no other explanation. Her behavior deteriorated so badly that I finally had to push her out in order to save my kids. She took off and I rarely saw her for a whole year. When I did see her it was only for her to plead for more money for drugs. I just couldn't give in to that. Her rage whenever I'd turn her down would border on animalistic. My wife was gone, replaced by this lunatic.
It was a few months after the last confrontation that I really began to worry. She'd never gone that long without showing up on the doorstep. I searched in vain. One night my worry for her made me break down. My young kids found me crying. They hugged me until we all fell asleep in the middle of the living room.
I woke up the next morning and just stared at the two little angels sleeping next to me. I vowed 'never again'. I needed to move forward for them. From then on I knew it would just be me raising the two of them. Wishing for her to magically come back as my wife was a fool's dream.
It was just as well. One month later, the sheriff knocked at my door. Deep down I knew what he was going to say before he even said it. Somehow I had felt her ghost in my bedroom the night before. I trembled as I reached for the doorknob.
I still grimaced at the news. I had to come down and identify the body. I got a neighbor to watch my kids. Good thing it was a good hour before we reached the morgue. I needed the time to button up my resolve for the grim task.
I nearly cursed her when they pulled back the sheet. God, I could barely recognize her. She was just a shell of what she was. I closed my eyes and pulled back. Later, the sheriff told me the details. She was found lying naked on the floor of some drug den. Heroin overdose. The autopsy report included "significant sexual trauma". Fuck. It was all I could do to keep it together until I reached my car.
I drove the long way home, sobbing. I needed to get it all out before I faced my children. As it was I could never let them know what it was I saw that day. I resolved to hold that secret to my grave. No way did I want my children to remember her this way. It was to be my own special corner of hell.
As the years passed and the kids grew, it all did seem to get a little easier. Time heals all wounds I guess. It helped that the kids seemed to be doing well and were emotionally strong. It would have killed me if they somehow fell prey to the same demons Jean did. Thank God that wasn't the case. I guess it helped that I was a devoted and loving father. Thankfully the little ranch was the sanctuary we needed to keep life simple and emerge from that trauma.
By now the kids had moved out and started their own families. Things had really changed all around me. Most of my old friends had given up, sold to a developer and moved away. Can't blame them really. The amount of money that had been dangled in front of them was just too high. My neighbor John was also one of the last holdouts. He gave up because he just couldn't keep up with the maintenance anymore. That and his wife wanted to 'travel the world' with the money. I wished him well.
I have to admit that I felt pretty alone by this time. I had poured all my energy into work and raising my kids after Jean was gone. It was the right thing to do for my kids, but I never really got to move on. Sure I went on one or two dates, but nothing ever came of it. I guess the scars just ran too deep. Now here I was losing the last few friends I had. I probably needed to just sell out and make a big change in my life. Somehow I just couldn't bring myself to do it. My little rancher and I had gone through alot together. It would have been like leaving my last best friend behind.
--
Construction started quickly next door. The cacophony of construction equipment hammered in my brain for what seemed like months. Didn't help that some of the damn contractors would drive over my property to try to short cut into some of the back areas of the new development. My complaints were always met with "no habla inglés". Shit. I finally took things into my own hands and began building fences. Put a stop to that crap.
I watched the 'mini-mansions' they were building go up. My God, do building codes mean anything anymore? These expensive homes seem to be made out of nothing but sticks and paper. I had a good laugh when John called me one day.
"John, who the hell did you sell your property to? The Tinker Toy company?" I said.
"What do you mean?" asked John.
"The houses they're building are so close together," I complained. "And they seem to be held together with scotch tape and chewing gum!"
"Really?" asked John. "They told me they were experienced builders!"
"Well," I responded. "They must not have experience building in Florida. One good fart would bring the whole development down like a row of dominoes!"
"Ha!" laughed John. "Well at least my old house will still be standing!"
"Sorry to tell you John," I continued. "But they bulldozed your place down. It did take them 4 days to knock it all down though. They underestimated how well it was built. They even complained to me about all the cement and cinder-block that was used!"
"Well," said John. "I'd like to tell them I'm sorry, but I'm not. I'm too busy sitting on a pristine white beach on some island in the Caribbean right now with a tropical drink in my hand."
'Gee thanks," I muttered. "And you leave me here with all the riff-raff."
"Sorry, man. Got to go," said John. "Apparently the wife says we have a couples massage scheduled. Good Luck!"
John hung up and I just sighed. My sanctuary seemed to be closing in around me. My dog, Cain, nuzzled up next to me with all the finesse a 150 lb Great Pyrenees can muster. In other words he bowled me over. I guess I should give him a break. He did lick my face as I rolled over in pain.
--
It wasn't much longer until folks began to move into the new houses. I even tried to be neighborly and walk over and introduce myself. I always got the same reaction. Coldness. I finally got a clue when one of the neighbors who was half drunk when I approached said, "Oh, you're the one that lives in that little shithole over there!" Pompous ass.
That little shithole he was referring to was my ranch house. Yeah, it was no McMansion, but it was no shithole either. Like John's old house it was built when there were rules to follow. There was a reason it had lasted over 60 years in the same spot. Cinder block and brick construction as well as oversized roof timbers. My little place was built to withstand the weather, unlike the crap they put up now.
We even had a name for houses like mine..."Old Florida". You still see them dotted around the landscape. Reason being was because they were nearly indestructible. Ever notice that when you see devastation from a storm on the news it's always some new development? Yeah, they never show an "Old Florida" home after a storm...because it looks just like it did BEFORE the storm.
After a few of the same interactions with my 'new' neighbors, I resolved to keep to myself. No matter. I had done just fine by myself up to this point. I didn't need a bunch of snotty self-important people to help fill my time.
--
Things seemed to be settling down with the development next door as they finally ran out of places to build. I figured I'd finally start getting some peace around here. I just went about my business like I had before. I figured as long as I kept to myself and the "Lakers" as they called themselves kept to themselves, then I'd be fine. But...I was wrong.
I was mowing the front field and decided to take a quick break and headed to the mailbox. Don't ask me why, there's never anything good that shows up in there. I paged through the stupid flyers and a few bills. At the bottom of the pile was some sort of notice from the "Imperial Lakes HomeOwners Association". I smirked. I figured it was just misdirected mail or something. I threw it in my basket on the mower and finished the job at hand.
When I was through I grabbed the mail and threw it up on the counter, made myself a little lunch and popped open a beer. I paged through the mail, discarding the flyers and tossing the bills on the stack to be paid later. I glanced at the letter from the HOA. I figured I'd just confirm it was for someone else, mark it up for the postman and let him deal with finding the right mailbox for a change.
I had to do a double take when I looked at the address. It was labeled for me alright. Weird. So I turned it over and ripped open the flap. I pulled out a three page letter. I turned it over to start reading. I got about two sentences in before I mouthed the words "what the fuck?"
To: Mr. Bryan Williams
It has come to our attention that your property does not meet the standards as defined in our HOA bylaws. A recent inspection of your property shows a significant number of violations as listed in the attached. We hope that you will address these discrepancies before we, the HOA, need to take punitive action. Since the number of issues is so lengthy, we have decided to give you at least one month from the date of this letter to either resolve these issues or at least submit a plan for resolution at our next board meeting.
Signed
