"I'm afraid I have some bad news," the voice says
after I scream hello above the loud music into the cell phone.
All at once I feel sick, seriously sick as the worst possible news - yes, that - fills my mind. After all, this is not something you want to hear from the police. I am petrified both wanting and not wanting the conversation to continue.
I force a happy face for my companion, but she becomes worried as the blood drains from my already pale face. I wave her away and shield the phone with the other hand while searching for a quiet place to talk, which turns out to be outside the building in the rain.
A highlight reel streams through my head. There he is with the tiny butt sticking out and the bat held high at his first little league game. There is the smile and the wave as he disapears on the school bus. Let's not forget the sudden shyness at Halloween - who ever heard of a mute Dracula? There is his chin held high while I squint to see the tiny hair on his chin - I eventually convince him it isn't time to shave. I stand by his side with instructions on tying the tie for eighth grade graduation. And, the near crash during driving lessons is another time my voice vanished.
"Are you still there?" The familiar voice shoots through the phone as I finally respond.
My spirits soar as I am asked to meet my friend - who has the boy - a few blocks away. Yes, there is trouble, but nothing like I expected. My hand trembles as I close the phone and drop it in my pocket. I am soaked as I stand with eyes closed and thank god. I see her face - still inside - as I turn, I smile to calm her down. I fill her in as I drive to the meeting or exchange as it becomes.
I expect flashing lights, but there is only the car with the two inside. I tell the boy to get in my car as I discuss the trouble with the officer. It is only the second time I've seen my friend in uniform, but there is no time for smiles. He apologizes as I thank him. The details and what happens next is relayed and I thank him again while shaking his hand. It is a serious moment between friends.
I wave while pulling away from the curb as she begins the interrogation. I want to wrap my arms around him and never let go while realizing how little control I or any parent has. His march toward manhood continues and whatever protection I've provided over the years is nearing the end.
All at once I feel sick, seriously sick as the worst possible news - yes, that - fills my mind. After all, this is not something you want to hear from the police. I am petrified both wanting and not wanting the conversation to continue.
I force a happy face for my companion, but she becomes worried as the blood drains from my already pale face. I wave her away and shield the phone with the other hand while searching for a quiet place to talk, which turns out to be outside the building in the rain.
A highlight reel streams through my head. There he is with the tiny butt sticking out and the bat held high at his first little league game. There is the smile and the wave as he disapears on the school bus. Let's not forget the sudden shyness at Halloween - who ever heard of a mute Dracula? There is his chin held high while I squint to see the tiny hair on his chin - I eventually convince him it isn't time to shave. I stand by his side with instructions on tying the tie for eighth grade graduation. And, the near crash during driving lessons is another time my voice vanished.
"Are you still there?" The familiar voice shoots through the phone as I finally respond.
My spirits soar as I am asked to meet my friend - who has the boy - a few blocks away. Yes, there is trouble, but nothing like I expected. My hand trembles as I close the phone and drop it in my pocket. I am soaked as I stand with eyes closed and thank god. I see her face - still inside - as I turn, I smile to calm her down. I fill her in as I drive to the meeting or exchange as it becomes.
I expect flashing lights, but there is only the car with the two inside. I tell the boy to get in my car as I discuss the trouble with the officer. It is only the second time I've seen my friend in uniform, but there is no time for smiles. He apologizes as I thank him. The details and what happens next is relayed and I thank him again while shaking his hand. It is a serious moment between friends.
I wave while pulling away from the curb as she begins the interrogation. I want to wrap my arms around him and never let go while realizing how little control I or any parent has. His march toward manhood continues and whatever protection I've provided over the years is nearing the end.
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