Children of God

It had started out as a bad day. Nothing major, no meteorites dropped like funk bombshells in the middle of my afternoon, but more like minor grumblings throughout the morning and into the hot, late, humid evening. The haze pressed oppressively down through flaccid leaves, onto the pitch-colored asphalt and reflected back up like dirty lake water. I told her that I was a hermit crab, and told him that I kept my post like a lone wolf, let no one bother me. Irritation like tree pollen getting into my eyes.

She flagged me down and I was annoyed. Because I knew her, knew her type of crazy, and still had my rifle sights on her brother. I called it in and asked for another car when I saw the rabid dog that was the source of her emotional outburst that night. She talked into my ear but all I could take in was the front porch, and the pacing. And despite my training I told her to stay by the car and I swaggered to him, alone. He was crazed. His breath smelled of cheap booze and his eyes darted from the PCP coursing through his veins. There was nothing about it that was good.

The others arrived, and we came to some type of solution, though I hated every inch of it. And when I pushed him back and said get up off of me I knew he should have been wearing handcuffs out of there. But I deferred, and it ended up that I was right.

Ten minutes later and we get the call that he is back, and she is screaming bloody murder, and all of the neighbors are calling, and step it up, just step it up. My partner got there first (this time) and he, big strong tough guy that he is, got on the radio and said A-, expedite. On the radio when I played it back you could hear the V8 roaring in the background and the tires squealing as I took the turn and said I am just down the street, almost there. I put my sunglasses away because I knew what was coming.

I parked and she was possessed, in the treelawn, and just pointed and said he is inside. She grabbed my arm and tried to approach with us, but I pushed her and said, no, you aren't coming. My partner and I looked at each other as we walked to the house and I told him that I was done, that it was ending here, now. He nodded and we saw him come to the door. Rabid dog foaming at its mouth. He came out briefly, then tried to go back inside through the door he had smashed in, but D grabbed his arm and the fight was on. It was ugly, it is always ugly, but we spun him to the ground and landed on top of him and he kicked and pushed and hissed like the devil was trying to come up out of him to fight off the hands of St. Michael. And his legion. I grabbed the back of his head and pushed his face in the dirt and called him a m---erf---er and bent his arm back as far as it would go and twisted his wrist and put the cuffs on too tight and dug my knee into his back. D- slammed him down onto the trunk of his car and grabbed him by the belt and pitched him into the backseat like a sack of potatoes. Before I shut the door I stuck my face into the darkness and whispered the cops always win.

The next day she came to the station and said she wanted to drop the charges because she had too many other things going on currently. Was incredulous to find out that it was out of her hands and that yes, her dear boyfriend, was likely going back to prison. And what we had put ourselves through and for, in her mind, nothing.

I went to his house, and I sat in the garage for awhile, not knowing what to say. Or not say. I went in, climbed into the shower and let the hot water play on my skin for a very long time, as if I could somehow wash the cynicism and grittiness off. When I climbed in next to him he was asleep, but woke long enough to wrap me up in his arms and with a big smile say hello before falling back into sleep. I lay there, in the darkness, surrounded, and wondered if it was okay if I didn't tell him? If it was selfish of me to keep it bottled up inside and shield him from how bitter I can be, from how ugly and dangerous some things are.

The next morning I think I realized that I am vulnerable, and that I don't want anyone to know.