I stared at the screen in disbelief. She was carrying a towel, a paperback novel, and a glass of something garnished with a floating lemon slice. She calmly arranged her belongings beside the pool and stepped into the water.
I called her immediately. Through the camera feed, I watched her phone light up on the deck. She glanced at it, deliberately rejected the call, and continued swimming. I called a second time. Finally, she answered.
"Michael?" "What are you doing?" There was a brief pause. "What do you mean?" "You’re in my pool."
Karen looked directly toward the camera lens. "Oh."
That single syllable told me everything: she had completely forgotten the camera was there.
"Get out," I demanded. "Michael, relax." "You entered my yard without permission." "It’s ninety-five degrees outside." "That doesn’t make it your pool." "I’m not hurting anything." "That isn’t the point."
She laughed. She actually laughed at me.
"It’s just a pool."
That dismissive sentence quickly became her favorite defense. I firmly told her to leave. She eventually did—but at a painstakingly slow pace.
Chapter 2: Blurred Lines and Broken Boundaries
The second time she trespassed, she didn't come alone. She brought another woman, someone I vaguely recognized from Karen’s church. The two of them lounged in our backyard for almost an hour while Laura and I were away at Ben’s baseball game. When I confronted Karen later that evening, she boldly claimed she thought Laura had given her permission.
Laura, of course, had not.
The third time, Karen brought three people over. Fed up, I went to the hardware store and changed the side-gate latch.