stretch. From the time I was little you told me never to back down from a bully.” The regret I had felt a minute ago was quickly consumed by my conviction that I had made the right decision in an extremely bad situation.
“ I never expected the bully you decided to stand up to to be a man with a gun. Sometimes you’ve got to think things through before you act. You came pretty close to getting yourself killed.”
“ I know I made the right choice. It’s not like I planned it. I didn’t know I had even been shot until after Wanda locked down the restaurant and carried me to a booth. So, obviously, I wasn’t jumping in front of a speeding bullet; I was just trying to keep the man from attacking a little kid.” Dark irritation was seething through every pore in my body. “Do you know what height a four year old is? Right there,” I pointed directly at my bandaged leg. “His heart was at my mid thigh, right where I was shot. Now what’s worse, me taking a bullet in a leg or a child never living long enough to make it to kindergarten?”
Fury with her grabbed hold of my entire body. It was difficult to keep from shouting at her. I was sorry I had ever asked what was bothering her. “I’m a little tired, do you mind giving me some room.” I felt my eyes swelling up with tears.
As I did my best to maintain my enraged stare, she looked at me like I had just crossed some imaginary line that our relationship might never recover from. I continued to stare at her, my wrath refusing to subside, “Really Mom, I don’t want to talk about this again, ever.”
Her hurt wasn’t masked in the slightest. She took a step back, and stood for a long minute looking at the floor and mumbled very low, “I almost lost you.”
My words still full of fury, “Well, you didn’t…but calling me an idiot won’t win you any points.”
Again with an expression that looked like I had just slapped her on the face, “I never said you were an idiot, Lauren. Your life is more important to me than a child I’ve never met.” She paused, knowing this conversation had taken a turn she never saw coming and desperately wanted out of. “The news stations are asking for an interview. Do you feel up to it today?”
“ No, give them Wanda’s number.” A light tapping at the door that hung wide open caught my attention. I didn’t recognize the two men at the door who were waiting to be invited in.
My mom pivoted in place and asked, “Can I help you?”
“ I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but I’m Detective Pothier, and if Lauren is feeling up to it, we’d like to ask her a few questions about the events two nights ago.” I motioned for them to come in, and they began what I’m assuming was a well-rehearsed, “soft” interrogation. I shared with them all the details, and, until we got to the part where I was sure a door had slammed, they didn’t take any notes and really didn’t appear to be paying much attention. It turns out everything I relayed matched statements they had already taken from witnesses. Detective Pothier chuckled a little, “You really thought someone had slammed a door?”
The embarrassment I was feeling had to shine through, but I simply nodded and finished the remainder of the interview as quickly as possible. During the course of the fifteen minutes it took to relay the events to the two police officers, my mother had excused herself, so it was just the three of us in the room.
The detective leaned toward me, “Kid, before we got here we already had all the information we needed from eye witnesses. This was merely a formality for the file. Everything you have told us precisely matches the other statements we have taken, well, except for the slamming door. Everyone else seemed to know it was a gun shot,” he added with a snicker. “I’m sure you know we have a suspect in custody who says he’s prepared to make a statement that, I believe, will
“ I never expected the bully you decided to stand up to to be a man with a gun. Sometimes you’ve got to think things through before you act. You came pretty close to getting yourself killed.”
“ I know I made the right choice. It’s not like I planned it. I didn’t know I had even been shot until after Wanda locked down the restaurant and carried me to a booth. So, obviously, I wasn’t jumping in front of a speeding bullet; I was just trying to keep the man from attacking a little kid.” Dark irritation was seething through every pore in my body. “Do you know what height a four year old is? Right there,” I pointed directly at my bandaged leg. “His heart was at my mid thigh, right where I was shot. Now what’s worse, me taking a bullet in a leg or a child never living long enough to make it to kindergarten?”
Fury with her grabbed hold of my entire body. It was difficult to keep from shouting at her. I was sorry I had ever asked what was bothering her. “I’m a little tired, do you mind giving me some room.” I felt my eyes swelling up with tears.
As I did my best to maintain my enraged stare, she looked at me like I had just crossed some imaginary line that our relationship might never recover from. I continued to stare at her, my wrath refusing to subside, “Really Mom, I don’t want to talk about this again, ever.”
Her hurt wasn’t masked in the slightest. She took a step back, and stood for a long minute looking at the floor and mumbled very low, “I almost lost you.”
My words still full of fury, “Well, you didn’t…but calling me an idiot won’t win you any points.”
Again with an expression that looked like I had just slapped her on the face, “I never said you were an idiot, Lauren. Your life is more important to me than a child I’ve never met.” She paused, knowing this conversation had taken a turn she never saw coming and desperately wanted out of. “The news stations are asking for an interview. Do you feel up to it today?”
“ No, give them Wanda’s number.” A light tapping at the door that hung wide open caught my attention. I didn’t recognize the two men at the door who were waiting to be invited in.
My mom pivoted in place and asked, “Can I help you?”
“ I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but I’m Detective Pothier, and if Lauren is feeling up to it, we’d like to ask her a few questions about the events two nights ago.” I motioned for them to come in, and they began what I’m assuming was a well-rehearsed, “soft” interrogation. I shared with them all the details, and, until we got to the part where I was sure a door had slammed, they didn’t take any notes and really didn’t appear to be paying much attention. It turns out everything I relayed matched statements they had already taken from witnesses. Detective Pothier chuckled a little, “You really thought someone had slammed a door?”
The embarrassment I was feeling had to shine through, but I simply nodded and finished the remainder of the interview as quickly as possible. During the course of the fifteen minutes it took to relay the events to the two police officers, my mother had excused herself, so it was just the three of us in the room.
The detective leaned toward me, “Kid, before we got here we already had all the information we needed from eye witnesses. This was merely a formality for the file. Everything you have told us precisely matches the other statements we have taken, well, except for the slamming door. Everyone else seemed to know it was a gun shot,” he added with a snicker. “I’m sure you know we have a suspect in custody who says he’s prepared to make a statement that, I believe, will
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