Don't You Just Love the New Neighbors?

I love this neighborhood. I really do. Jim and I decided on this area specifically for the quiet. It was what we loved about this town, where nothing disruptive happens, where we could raise our kids in peace in a nice Christian community. So, you can understand my surprise when, three hours before my 7:30 alarm would have gone off, I was awoken by the loud screech of tires and the incessant beeping of a truck backing into the driveway of the house next door.

The house had been vacant for a year, and we had been somewhat in the loop with real estate agent tours and potential buyers. We knew someone had bought the house, but we hadn’t met them yet. All of their meetings were after Jim gets off work, later in the day, and we were always too exhausted from the day to go say hi, knowing we would meet them eventually. That was supposed to happen today, when they moved in. But not at 4:30 in the morning. I was livid.

I stormed downstairs, in my robe, ready to shout at them about basic human decency and that this was the worst possible first impression they could have given us. But I stopped myself. Instead, I watched from the window. I wanted to gauge the situation first. Who were these people? I wanted to know what I was dealing with, and maybe to give them the benefit of the doubt before screaming at them. And besides, who was I to talk about first impressions while shouting at someone at 4:30 in the morning in my bathrobe?

So, I watched them finish parking. A woman slowly got out of the truck, her dark hair swinging behind her. She looked a bit younger than me, but walked with a confidence I wish I had. She seemed a bit uptight, but I could handle that. What I could not handle was the sight of another woman emerging from the van, and smiling over at the first. She walked around to stand next to her partner, folding her arms around her. They looked up at the house in admiration, apparently excited to start their new lives, together. Immediately, I understood what they were.

It took me a moment to process. My first conscious thought was shock. Why were they here? How was this allowed? What lawyer would let people like that move into our safe, quiet, traditional neighborhood? I watched, in absolute disgust as the two women walked, hand in hand, pale skin shining in the night, to the door with bags over their shoulders. They stopped, before fumbling with the brand new key, to kiss in front of the door. That woke me from my trance. I ran upstairs to get Jim, and told him what I saw.

“Amy, I don't see what the problem is. And I really don’t see why you had to wake me up at 5 in the morning to tell me. I am sure they will leave us alone. Would you please just let me go back to sleep?” Jim huffed, exasperated.

I turned, getting back into bed. Fine. Let him sleep. We would talk about it tomorrow, and surely Jim would see that this was not an issue to ignore. We simply could not have people living such an ungodly life right next door to us.

“I don’t know, I just don't feel comfortable with people of ‘their type’ living right next to me.” I said to Jill from across the street a few days later, after the news had spread through the neighborhood. “I mean, I have kids. Am I supposed to just allow them to grow up observing that behavior, thinking that that’s okay? To teach my kids that it’s perfectly normal to live like that? What kind of mother would I be?” I pleaded. Jill looked at me, considering what to say next.

“I understand where you’re coming from, I really do,” she started. “And to be completely honest, I’m concerned too. My Jonathan’s about to be fourteen. Any fourteen year old kid would want to look in at that kind of behavior. I shudder to think about him having any type of fantasies about women like that. But, we have to be realistic here. We can’t exactly go to the town hall meeting and try to kick them out.”

“Why not? We can start a petition; have everyone in the neighborhood sign in. Vote them out, kick them out if we have to,” I countered.

Jill thought for a moment, before agreeing. “Okay. We’ll start today. I’ll write out the petition, you circulate the neighborhood and convince people to sign.”

So our work began. People were appalled. I got doors slammed in my face, threats of calling the cops, people calling me discriminatory and old-fashioned. I reasoned that the behavior of these women was unacceptable. It was unnatural, immoral, and a threat to our kids. I caught the women staring at me hungrily, like they just viewed me as a sort of delicacy, They wanted to prey on me, get me to join their way of life. I wouldn't.

After about a week of this, Jim sat me down in the kitchen. 

“Amy I’ve had enough of this. I’m done supporting you and your petition. I’ve invited our new neighbors over for dinner, and I’ve even bought them the red wine they said was their favorite. I was going to make Italian food, but they insisted we didn't have to worry about cooking. We have to make an effort to be sociable. They are not bad people. We can’t judge them about something they can’t control. You just can't hate people just because they love someone of the same gender.”

“What?” I asked, utterly confused. “First of all, why would you invite them for dinner? The kids are home.”

“Yes, and they’ll join us. I want the kids to be accepting of everyone. How close minded do you have to be to hate your next door neighbors just because they’re lesbians,” he continued. “I mean, they are just trying to live their lives and start a family, same as us.”

I stared at him for a moment, letting his comments sink in as the realization dawned on me. “What does that have to do with anything we’re dealing with here?  These women are a danger to our family, and being ‘accepting’ won’t change what they are or the fact that they want to prey on our family. Wait . . . You don't mean . . . You don’t think that I do not want them living there because they are lesbians, right?”

“What? That’s why you want them gone so bad, isn’t it? You keep saying all of these gross, hateful and stereotypical things about them; they’re going to influence the kids, you think they will try to prey on you because you’re an attractive woman? Why say all of that?” He exclaimed.

“What?” I shrieked. “You really think I’m that shallow? Fifteen years of marriage and you think I’d hate them for that? Does everyone think that’s why I don’t like them?”

“What else would you be acting this way for? Everyone in hte neighborhood thinks we’re some kind of religious freaks. I even heard rumors of discrimination lawsuits against you, Amy. I really didn’t think you were like this. To be completely honest, I’m questioning how much I really know you.”

“Jim, how could you think that? Do you really not see what they are? I’m bisexual for god’s sake, and you know that. I could care less that these women are lesbians, and I would support them one hundred percent if it wasn’t for what they are. You don’t notice how they only come out at night, how they drink an excessive amount of that “red wine” they love, how they both have such pale skin and cook such bland food? They're vampires Jim. They want nothing more than to suck all the blood from our bodies, to turn us into people like them. They will try to kill our children, then move on to everyone else in the neighborhood. That’s why I want them gone.”

Jim opened his mouth to respond, utter shock and dreaded realization on his face, but he was cut short by the grim sound of the doorbell. Our lesbian vampire neighbors’ smiling faces could be seen through the windows, long fangs completing the look of the two eager women at the door. They were here for dinner.