The other day we got home late after looking at the stars out at the Observatory. Silas was past sleepy, well into grumpy. Rio was limp, less than half awake. We drank warm milk and the boys fell asleep as soon as their teeth were brushed. I put away the milk and loaded our cups into the dishwasher. At ten pm I checked my phone. Two messages. I’ll listen, I thought, then go to bed.
Two hours later I was saying good bye to a very unusual police officer who gave me even more hope that the world my sons are growing up in is on track.
Here’s what happened.
The phone messages were unnerving and a bit creepy. A young man used my name and spoke nonsense in a singsong voice. The creepy part came when he invited me for coffee and said I should bring that little “Simon” with me. He also left a number and asked me to call him. I called Andy and I called the police. The dispatcher had me trace the call and she promised to send an officer to my house.
As I waited for the cop, I felt a deep first chakra fear that turned the contents of my bowels into liquid. Feeling threatened in my own house like that, I also hooked into my mother bear instincts. I knew that I could kill to protect my children.
Andy traced the number the caller left to a gay bar on Johnson Street. Dialed the number and talked to the young man who answered the phone. Could be the prank caller was a bored drag queen looking for a little thrill while the night was still young.
When the cop came I’d already calmed down. I ushered him into the house and offered him the pink chair in the living room. He was a young man. He sat down heavily in the chair, rubbed his eyes, yawned, and looked around. “This is a nice room,” he said.
“Yeah, I love this old house,” I replied. “It’s a gem.” After some chit chat we listened to the messages together. I was a little surprised to hear the cop laugh at the first message, off-the-cuff sentences that rhymed but that didn’t make any sense.
I laughed too, then, my fears abating. “He’s pretty good,” the cop said when it was done. “He can make it rhyme like that. I can’t do that.”
I smiled. Played the second message. Creepy, but more theatrical than pathological. Not entirely nice, but not dangerous. Designed to get a reaction.
The cop made a report. Took down our names, birthdates. When he’d finished writing the boys’ names and birthdates he paused for a minute, then looked at me. “No offense to you, ma’am,” he said. “But your boys and I have cool names.”
His name is Damian and he appreciates his parents for not calling him Sarah or Ryan. No offense to them, either.
“Well, I think we come with names,” I said. “As parents we just have to figure them out.”
He processed that.
“You got kids?” I asked.
“Not yet,” he said. “I’m only 26. But we will, one day.”
“When you’re ready,” I said. “You gotta be ready because it changes your life.”
He nodded.
“Yeah,” I forged on. “Be prepared. Because, speaking as a woman, it changes your life a lot. More than you think. So, just be supportive.” I wanted to tell him everything I know. Everything I’ve learned in the last six years. But I distilled it. “Just be right there and follow along,” I said. “Expect things to change and go with it.”
He nodded some more.
“It’s a lot of fun too,” I say. “Never a dull moment.”
“No doubt,” he said. “Here’s the file number. Call if he bothers you again.”
I thanked him and ushered him to the door.
We said good night.
“Just live your normal life,” he said, as he stepped out of the house and pulled the screen door shut behind him. Then he turned to look at me through the screen. Smiled reassuringly. “And love the earth,” he added.
“OK,” I said, and watched him get into his car and drive away. “Good advice.”
They’re obviously turning out a new breed of cops these days. Ones with cool names and open hearts.
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