But, I guess her mom did later win the likes of arguments with her husband, with the points I had provided her by growing into a belligerent, impulsive troublemaker. Now feuding with the olders and getting into heated conflicts. Perhaps why I had been denied of my only genuine friendship, as she was sent off to a boarding school in the neighboring state, and never allowed to come home even on holidays either, except for the December celebrations as they would be traveling. Thus, I have not set my eyes on her for almost four years now.
I felt deprived and had become so mad and toxic that I confronted law enforcers who dare stand in my way, I feared virtually no one.
And that has got me frequent forceful free rides to the police station and occasions of detention, twice have I been apprehended by Sergeant Fred himself who was the most lenient on me, for he did nothing other than talk, talked, and talked so much that it would bore me. But it was more annoying, he would not realize my ears no longer retain voices I didn’t utter; not that I’d tell him. No, I wasn’t even going to look at him, just sat there, staring onto the table he would lean on across me as I patiently waited for my departing hour to come.
Though I had been excited when a text popped up on my screen almost a year ago, which read, “Hi, it’s Jane.”
“Jane Maureen?” I had texted back… Hoping I didn’t guess wrong.
“Yes, got your contact from Robert, a week ago when I was home to prepare for our Christmas trip.” The sender had replied.
“Wow. Cool, how are you?” And so on the chat went.
But, not that excited.
We’re no more those kids, she had a different life now, and maybe even understand what her mom was trying to get her to. Perhaps not so, but I felt this emptiness as if someone has wandered off with some pieces of our history
So I’m quite sure she would be on the random queue now too. Why bother?
Even though that never did count her out of the few I regarded their texts. Which had borne the surreptitious meet we had planned to have this Christmas, as her parents would disapprove in the course of knowing.
With vigorous multiple taps, the screen touch finally responded to my command and I was able to text my reply.
“Hey, what’s up?” Her text read.
“Not good” I texted back.
“Not surprised, you rarely are.” Her text came through, in the company of laughing emojis
I hissed, on seeing her text… Was that she thought of me me? It’s okay.
“Complicated issue we’re talking about here ma’am” I added relevant emojis like a GenZ would have.
“Oh really, can I help?” She texted back
“Lmao, Yes guess what?
Ammunition and a full body bulletproof would be appreciated.” I noticed I was smiling for the first time since sunrise as I reread and hit the send button.
“Lol,” the simple abbreviated reply didn’t convey its real meaning on my end.
I tossed the phone on the table and took the wet towel to get rid of it, as something I would consider the right thought cross my mind.
I sighed and said to myself I cannot do this alone, not at all. If anything, I probably would need some help and a diplomatic strategy at that. I admitted.
I’ve been an asshole, I still am, and no one will give a shit! No one cares if now, I am trying to be some DC character trying to save a family of Joe from impending endangerment.
Mom does care but her reactions will sure mess things up for me…
Immediately my hippocampus presented me with the only Mr. Fred Maureen, now a Captain in the Police force.
I threw the napkin I was holding in a random direction I never minded. I moved swiftly across the room and to the parlor heading for Mom’s scooter key, which usually lies on the glass TV stand if not in use. I almost bulldozed Riley out of the way as he bumped into my limbs.
I acknowledged him with an apologetic glance and waved, “hey I’m sorry man…” Grabbing the key I rushed out and unto the scooter, off I went. Such rides need no brake pads engagement.
Swirling the bike to a stop, I had arrived at the police station I had long visited (either being summoned under a warrant as a suspect or arrested and detained, later freed but mostly on probation) and now on my own. I felt poking glares from almost everywhere as I was quite infamous in the society, notorious I was to this enforcement agency.
But I think it’s about time I’d vouch for myself.
“Captain Fred on duty?” I asked Detective Herbert Hoover, a lanky but sinewy light-tanned man in his early thirties whose compulsive needs to rise through ranks had made him a maniac, one of the strictest officials that have ever handled me.
On purpose, dismissing the thoughts of what they might have been thinking of me.
Shooting me his cop glare, “Have you come to report yourself this time?”
He should have known by now, I don’t give a damn about cop scowls, moreover what the hell was this man trying to insinuate?
“Well, I’m sorry I had to report to you, myself. But, I just mercilessly battered Bryan and pulped his balls, as you can see I’m drenched in his blood.” I decisively choose to challenge his egotistical haughty spirit with a satirical response involving his son.