"SAFE"
Fragile looking, small. "Sir, is your son Michael
upstairs?" Jillian asked, ears poking out of straight blond
hair like an ingenue from Mighty Mouse.
"I don't know, I'll call up and see." In a moment
Michael appeared at the top of the stairs and began to
descend, hesitantly.
"Hello Mike," she said, smiling. They were the smallest
and youngest at Mike's sister's birthday party, moving
quietly and carefully among the other kids like larger
versions of the two house cats. Tom only heard her when she
came to complain to Kathy about the older kids sitting in a
circle in the family room, holding hands and trying to
levitate.
"They're messin' with stuff they don't understand," she
said. She told of a case she knew where kids had done that
sort of thing and lived to regret it. She also reported
that standing in front of a mirror calling for "Bloody
Mary," which some of the kids were talking about doing, was
dangerous.
"It's OK," Tom told her, "I'll watch 'em."
Later, when the party was over and their kids were
asleep, Kathy said "She got him to sing her a song."
"Really?" Mike was musical they always said, but Michael
didn't share his songs with everyone. They got together a
couple of times after that, both times at her house. She
gave Mike a ring and a small stuffed animal. "Mike's sister
told me he likes stuffed animals," she said, smiling, when
he came to pick Mike up. It was a little dog. A cute
little dog. Mike smiled.
"I told him he didn't need to have a girlfriend right
now if he didn't want to," said Kathy, the cold suburban
street outside their livingroom window just moonlight and
snow.
"Yeah?" He agreed but thought, perhaps, she was butting
in.
"He told me all this going steady stuff made him
uncomfortable. I told him you can just be friends, you
don't have to be boyfriend and girlfriend."
"Yeah, they are awfully young, even for now days."
Kathy's position hardened when, a week later, Jillian's
sixteen year old sister called while everyone was getting
ready for school and work and berated Mike for seeming to
like Jillian's (slightly) older sister better than he liked
Jillian. A two-timer. A little creep. He'd better not...
"That's it!" said Kathy in the darkened livingroom where
they retired to relive, or forget, the events of the day.
"All those girls over there are boy crazy." He listened
intently, having missed the import of the morning's
conversation, busy getting more coffee and choking himself
tying his tie. "They spend all their time worrying about
who likes who," she said. "All those girls over there,
they've got nothing better to do. 'You better not mess with
my sister!' That sort of shit. And at his age. They're in
grade school. It's ridiculous! He's not going over there
any more. If I wanted my kids to associate with people like
that I would have stayed in Warren."
"So," he said, opening what should be his last beer
given the fact that it was a work night, "they're not all
related, right? Who belongs to who?"
"She's divorced. Those boys belong to the guy she's
going to marry. Her husband was some kind of shithead I
think. Some kinda drunken bum who got in trouble I think.
Now she works and goes to law school at night. I've got to
hand it to her for that, and with all those kids in the
house."
And that's how it was, except that when it came time for
his birthday party at Pizza Palace Mike wanted her to come.
She showed up all smiles and accompanied Mike through the
maze of electronic games, collecting tickets to be redeemed
for plastic prizes. She stuck close by him and Mike didn't
seem to mind a bit. Afterwards it was back home, kids
running upstairs and down talking about school and families
and pop stars -- some suck, some don't. Jillian had the
best story: "My dad wears an electronic tether because he
drank too much. When the phone rings he better get his butt
off the couch and answer it or they'll take him to jail.
They did that once already."
"No," said Kathy later, "that's the guy who's there now.
The guy her mom's going to marry."
"I had a good time," said Jillian, all smiles and
reflected light in the passenger seat as he drove her home
in the thick winter darkness. Then, when they stopped at a
red light on Rochester Road, she said, "I want to be a cop
when I grow up. When you're a cop you can help people.
"That's good," he said to her, turning on to Auburn
Road, the road that led to her street.
"Yeah, you can solve crimes and help people and fight
the bad guys. When you're a cop you can carry a gun...and
you can use it. You can shoot people who are committing
crimes."
"Well..." and then he thought better of going into the
fact that there were certain laws and regulations that
governed the use of deadly force. It would sound too
pedantic, and at the moment he wasn't sure he could remember
what they all were. Plus, in the back of his mind he had a
suspicion they were all just so much eyewash anyway. The
shopping center on his left and the junior high on his right
marked the edge of the urban sprawl that fringed Rochester
Road. Now the businesses were smaller and farther apart and
the streets that joined the road were made of snow and dirt.
"You get to have a club too. And you can beat people
with it -- cops get to beat people."
"Well," he said, "they can't just beat people. I mean
they can't just beat anybody they want."
"Yes they can! They can do that if they want."
"I think there's got to be a good reason." He paused.
"They're supposed to have a good reason."
"They can beat people," she said emphatically. "They're
allowed." Her mouth, usually smiling, was firm and
determined.
They drove in silence for a moment, then she said "I'm
glad we live in Rochester Hills. My dad says Rochester
Hills is better than Troy because there aren't as many black
people in Rochester Hills as there are in Troy. It's
safer."
At that moment he pulled on to her street, still covered
with the stubborn snow that seemed to be lingering too long,
even for a cold place like this. Before he reached her
driveway some sign, a special light in a certain window
perhaps, alerted her. She sprang forward in her seat,
smiling again, and blurted "Mummy's home!"
"Thank you," she said as she opened her door, "I had a
wonderful time." She ran to the house. He waited a moment
to make sure she was safe.