“TAKE. THE. KIDS,” she screamed, her voice echoing through the dead-silent school library as she shoved her terrified son towards me.
Her name was Jessica, the queen bee of the PTA and the neighbor from hell.
It all started with a simple ask, a favor to “watch the kids for a bit.” But that bit turned into every single day. She said it was my duty to the “village,” because I worked from home and was always available.
When I finally said no, she told the whole town I was unstable. A charity case. A mess she was trying to help.
But there in the library, drunk and cornered, she showed everyone her true, entitled self. She thought she had me. She thought I would just break down and take her kids like I always did.
Little did she know, the small red light on my phone wasn’t just recording her downfall; it was lighting the way for a brand of payback she never saw coming, one that would rebuild my life and change our entire community.
The Open Door: A Favor for a Neighbor
The knock on my door wasn’t a polite tap. It was a rapid, percussive beat that vibrated through the floorboards and right up my spine. It was the sound of urgency, the kind that makes you think of burst pipes or a kid falling off a bike. I muted the audio file I was transcribing—a cardiologist’s notes, full of dense, unforgiving terminology—and slid my headset off. My son, Leo, was at school, and my husband, Mark, was at the office. The house was supposed to be my silent sanctuary until three o’clock.
I opened the door to Jessica Hale, our neighbor from two houses down. She was the undisputed queen of the Maple Creek PTA, a woman who always looked like she’d just stepped out of a catalog, even now, with her blonde hair slightly askew and her eyes wide with manufactured panic.
“Sarah, thank God you’re home,” she said, her voice a rushed whisper. She gestured behind her to her two kids, Liam and Chloe, who were standing on my porch looking bored. “I have a complete emergency. I cracked a molar on a walnut this morning, and my dentist can squeeze me in, but it’s right now. Can you please, please just watch them for a bit? An hour, tops. You’d be an absolute lifesaver.”
It was a reasonable request. A dental emergency is an emergency. Liam, who was about Leo’s age, gave me a small, noncommittal wave.
“Of course,” I said, stepping back to let them in. “Don’t worry about it. Go.”
She gave me a brilliant, grateful smile. “You are the best. The absolute best.” Then she leaned in and whispered, “They’ve had a snack, but Chloe gets cranky if she watches too much TV. Be right back!”
And just like that, she was gone, her white SUV pulling away from the curb with a chirp of its tires. I closed the door and turned to face my two small, unexpected houseguests. The cardiologist’s voice, trapped in my headphones, would have to wait.
The Longest Hour
An hour came and went. I set the kids up with Leo’s old LEGOs in the living room, where I could keep an eye on them from my desk in the adjoining dining room. I tried to get back to work, but it was impossible. The audio file demanded my full attention—words like atherosclerotic plaque and myocardial perfusion imaging don’t forgive distraction. Every ten minutes, there was a new question, a new squabble over a specific LEGO piece, a new request for juice.
“Can we watch cartoons?” Liam asked, his voice monotone, already tired of the building blocks.
“Sure,” I sighed, giving up on the transcription for now. I clicked off the file, my deadline for the day already looking precarious.
I put on a show for them and sat back at my desk, trying to salvage the workday. The sound of animated aliens and laser blasts filled the house. Two hours passed. Mark texted me: How’s the day going? I typed back: Unexpected company. Jessica’s kids are here. He sent a simple, ominous reply: Uh oh. He knew Jessica.
At the three-hour mark, just as I was starting to feel a real knot of anxiety tighten in my chest, Jessica’s SUV finally pulled into her driveway. A few minutes later, she was at my door again, all smiles and apologies.
“Oh my God, it was a nightmare,” she announced, breezing past me into the living room. “They had to do a whole temporary crown thing. It took forever.” She was holding two large shopping bags, one from Nordstrom and one from a boutique downtown I knew was nowhere near her dentist’s office.
“Kids, let’s go! Say thank you to Mrs. Collins!” she called out.
Liam and Chloe mumbled their thanks as they grabbed their things. Jessica turned to me, placing a hand on my arm. “Seriously, Sarah. I owe you big time. You saved my life today.”
I forced a smile. “It was no problem.” But as I watched her walk away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I hadn’t just done a favor. I had just been successfully tested.