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"Everybody in the neighborhood is going to think I brought a drunk man home from the
party."
-- Amanda King, The Three Faces of Emily.
"Abner!" Gladys Kravitz shrill voice called to her husband in the living room as she peered through the slotted blinds to the house across the street. "I think there's a man in the King's bushes."
"It's probably the Ferguson's dog," Abner Kravitz replied.
"Wearing a suit and tie?"
With a long suffering sigh, Abner closed the recliner chair and joined his wife. Glancing out the window, he didn't see a thing. "Well, Glady's there's no one there now. What was the man doing?"
"He was hiding in the bushes and Mrs. King was leaning out the window talking to him."
Abner just shook his head and shuffled back toward the TV. "Well, maybe he's a friend."
"In the bushes?!" Gladys parted the mini-blinds once again. "Hm, and I thought that Stevens woman was weird."
"Abner! Abn... shoot I forgot it's poker night." What could she do? This was unbelievable. It was happening again. The man was back prowling around the King house, but this time he was in disguise. This was terrible. The neighborhood was under siege and she didn't know who to tell. Who could she call? Her eyes fell on the phone.
"Hello, 911. Please state the nature of your emergency."
"I just saw a strange man sneak away from our neighbor's house -- and this is not the first time it's happened either!" Gladys explained righteously.
"All right ma'am what did he look like and what's your location?" the Operator asked.
"Well, I really didn't get a very good look at him, I'm not really sure, but... he seemed to be 6'2", 180 pounds, with sandy brown hair, hazel eyes, a nice tan, broad shoulders, black shoes, and oh, yes, he was wearing a blue postal uniform."
The Operator stifled a laugh. Good thing the woman hadn't gotten a good look at the suspect, she thought. "Um, ma'am, I hate to inform you but he was probably delivering the mail."
"No, no, you don't understand. I know the mailman and that wasn't him."
"Maybe your regular mailman is sick?"
"No. This is serious," Gladys argued. "This man is no Federal employee, he drives much too nice a car for that. It's not even American-made, for goodness sake. Are you people coming or not? He's getting away!"
The 911 operator let out a deep sigh. Why did she always get the weird ones?
"Abbbbnnner!"
"What is it now, Gladys?" came the voice from the other room. Her husband no longer bothered to get up.
"There's a limousine pulling up to the house -- and Amanda King has her arms around a man!"
"Good for her. She's a nice lady. She deserves some companionship."
"But Abner the man looks inebriated." The way she said the word drew out each of its syllables.
"What?"
"In-eb-rieted," Gladys repeated slowly.
"Gladys, you're interrupting Magnum?"
"He looks drunk Abner."
"Prohibition's been over for a long time, Gladys."
"Oh, honestly, Abner."
"Wake up Abner!"
"Wha-?"
"Quick, call 911."
"Is there a fire?"
"There's a man crawling into the window of Amanda King's house," she cried. "I think it may be a burglar. No, wait! Mrs. King's leaning out and pulling him in."
"Hooray for Mrs. King."
"Abner!"
"Look, Gladys, it's 1 O'Clock in the morning and I have to go to work tomorrow."
"Well, that King woman tries to put on that oh-so-wholesome act, but I know better now."
"Just leave her alone, Gladys," her husband mumbled as he buried his head back into the pillow.
"Amanda King is a sweet person, so why don't you give her her privacy and come away from that window," Abner called from the next room.
Gladys raised a pair of binoculars to her eyes. "Because if it was privacy she wanted she'd close her blinds like all the other neighbors do."
"Oh, Abner, Abner! They just kissed!"
"Are you watching those late night soap operas again?"
"I haven't watched Dallas for weeks, Abner."
"Good, it's been rotting your mind."
Gladys parted the faux wooden blinds. "Why bother with television when there are so many more interesting things going on right outside our window. I think Amanda King is in love with a gangster," she called excitedly into the next room.
Abner rolled his eyes, pleading silently with the TV and Merv Griffin to save him. "What makes you say that?"
"Because they're always sneaking around."
"I think you're imagining things, Gladys." He sighed heavily, never having seen anyone, or anything, for that matter, sneaking around -- whenever he'd gotten up to look.
"Abner, you will never believe this!"
"Okay," the response sounded from the den.
Her eyes slanted in a frown at her husband's lack of understanding, but she continued her vocal report. "They're climbing out of Mrs. King's window together. I think they may be running away! That is so romantic. Just like Romeo and Juliet." She paused a moment, rethinking that idea. "Or maybe more like Bonnie and Clyde. He's finally lured her into following his nefarious ways. They must be going on the lam." Her voice took on a nervous thrill at the word. One didn't encounter people going "on the lam" very often in Arlington.
"Abner!"
"Hm?"
"A whole bunch of cars just pulled up outside of the King house and men with guns and badges are getting out! I think they're Federal Agents!"
"Sure, Gladys, men with guns outside our door. Do you think this is Los Angeles?"
But Gladys Kravitz wasn't paying attention to her husband, her eyes were anxiously watching the events unfolding in front of her. "Oh, dear, I don't think that trellis is going to hold!"
"Oh my goodness. Abner, come quick, hurry!"
"What now?"
"You'll miss it." There was an unnatural giddiness to his wife's voice, something indefinable that made him actually lever himself out of his chair and lumber his way into their bedroom.
"Look, look," Gladys pointed excitedly. "He's going through the front door! The front door Abner can you believe it? After all this time!"
Abner came up beside Gladys to see a tall, well-dressed man accompanying Amanda King through her front door, just like any other regular person entering their house in America.
"Right. Okay, Gladys, that's it. You need therapy." He put an arm around her and gently pulled her away from the window. "Lots and lots of therapy."
And with that, Abner Kravitz reached over slowly and closed the blinds on a perfectly ordinary woman, man and a white suburban home.