Hey cool news. I won this contest. Yay for me! K, moving on.
In my apartment I
graciously fixed her up with a hot shower and one of my dog’s bath towels (Hey,
I paid a lot of money for my towels. I don’t want all that garbage gunk and
blood all over them) and then proceeded to panic outside in my living room. I
felt sick. Barto stared up at me through, pitying, brown doggy eyes as he
wagged his tail nervously. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Like
her head. All the way home in the car it had just kept on like that: back and
forth back and forth back and forth.
“Stop that.” I said,
irrationally irritated by him. Barto looked hurt. He melted guiltily into a
puddle of golden fur, staring mournfully at the ground. I sighed. “Sorry. But
I’m freaking out, dude. And now I’m talking to a dog.” The shower drops beat
against the wall, and the phone called temptingly. She was out of her mind. It
was the only explanation. And what was I supposed to do to help her? The cops
would know what to do.
I was calling the police. I decided firmly on
the idea, snatched up the phone and then set it back down. She had looked so
serious when she told me not to call them.
I’m doing this for you. She had said.
It’s better for us both if you leave me
here.
Fear getting the best
of me, I closed my curtains and turned on the tv. And turned it off. Again, I
picked up the phone and put it down. And picked it up.
I dialed.
“Hello?”
“Hey mom.”
“Oh hi, sweetie!”
Okay. Now what had
happened to calling the cops? That elusive three digit number had escaped me yet
again and instead I was talking to my mommy. A grown man called his mommy.
That’s right.
Mentally kicking
myself, I asked, “How are you?”
My mom belted into
her montage of mundane stories, leaving me free to space out and wonder what I
was going to do next. The shower stopped and the thought occurred to me that someone
who had been locked in a dumpster for several days might need some food.
“That’s nice,” I
murmured into the phone as I rummaged through the refrigerator.
“Honey, are you okay?
You seem a little preoccupied.” Her voice held the age-old concern felt by
mothers everywhere. This was probably the first time in my completely average,
boring, completely risk-voided life that her concern was justified.
“Oh,” I hesitated. “I’m
fine. Just, kinda tired you know.”
Then came the
questions.
“What did you do
today?”
“Saw a movie after
work.”
“Sounds like fun! Who
with?”
“Aaron and Amy and
this guy they know.”
“What did you see?”
“The new Star Trek.”
“What did you do
afterwards?” That was the big one. The one I’d been avoiding yet waiting for
all along.
Yeah. What did I do afterwards? Well…
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