Chapter 10
It was the Fourth of July weekend, and I was home alone as I finished up my painting. I looked around the master bedroom and figuratively patted myself on the back; it looked phenomenal. I had painted the upstairs; all of the upstairs, and it was now renovated and renewed. Sam and I would be able to move back to our own rooms by tomorrow night. My back was very excited by the prospect.
I’d painted each room a unique shade. For the master bedroom and new master bathroom, I selected a happy shade of buttery yellow. It was aptly named Song of Summer, and it made me feel full of light and happiness. What could be better for a new beginning?
Despite the relief that I felt at having shared my troubled heart with another person, namely Mike, I still felt on edge. I wondered often since that Saturday morning confessional by the river, whether my unease was due to regret at having bared my soul or if something was brewing out in the karmic cosmos. I shivered.
Superstitions had never bothered me, but for the last few days, I could swear that someone watched me just out of reach of my eyes. I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise at the oddest times. When I turned, no one was there, and nothing looked strange in any way. My uneasiness grew with each day that passed as small things continued to add to my confusion.
Sam had unknowingly added to my agitation when he selected a shade of blue/grey that was dubbed Marine Sky for his bedroom. It was a beautiful shade but very adult and sophisticated. I was surprised when Sam chose that particular color. I had even asked him why he wanted that shade; it seemed so grown up. He shrugged those thin shoulders of his and just looked at me, “I don’t know, mom. When I look at it, it makes me happy. I feel that there’s something good out there waiting for me.”
I’d almost dropped to my knees at his shy statement because I felt it too, anticipation...expectation. When I looked at the color on the wall, I saw kind, steady eyes from the past looking back at me. Looking at that same shade of blue on the walls of Sam’s room was both pleasant and uncomfortable. In the end because we both loved the color so much, we agreed to paint the third bedroom that same shade. Despite my unsettled emotions, everyone agreed both rooms looked fabulous.
Since we had the lovely blue in both bedrooms, we decided to paint the Jack and Jill bathroom a shade of white dubbed cotton whisper. We accented the room with the Marine Sky blue trim. All of the revamped rooms looked amazing, and we were both very excited to be moving back into our new spaces. In fact, that was the reason I was alone and painting on the Friday before the Fourth of July.
Sam was already with my family and our loving crew of friends at Marcus’s beach house on Tybee Island. It was a nice place that we always deck out for the Fourth and really during most of the summer months. He had long ago acquired the run down shack on the beach from a distant relation who had no other family to bequeath it too. Over the years Marcus had leveled the shanty that once stood on the lot, and in its place now stood a lovely white washed beach cottage with all the modern amenities including a wrap around observation deck. Of course, since the house stood on the beach or as close to the beach as one can get on Tybee, the house was elevated on stilts to prevent flooding from tidal surges. There was the requisite winding staircase up to the first story of the cottage, but Marcus in his infinite wisdom had added an elevator so no one had to carry luggage, groceries, children, or furniture up two flights of stairs to enter the house.
I could envision them sitting around the house or sunning out on one of the two observation decks. Sam wanting to go down to the beach would be bubbling with excitement and driving Mom and Dad crazy. I laughed as the vision took root in my thoughts. Mom would just laugh and Dad and Marcus would wrangle him into some manly activity to keep his mind off the surf and the sand until the temperatures decreased to less than deadly out in the open. Yes, everyone would be relaxed and having a good time.
That reminisce led me back to the present because I needed to finish up here and head out there myself. We had planned to dine on crab legs and shrimp this evening with plenty of delicious fixings and then a chocolate ice cream bomb for dessert. My stomach rumbled, and I looked at my watch, 1:15. Painting had taken me longer than I anticipated. I needed to get cleaned up in here and then clean myself up too. I closed up the paint cans and stacked them in the center of the room. The only thing left now was to grab up the roller, brush, and paint tray and head outside.
The backyard was far from a shambles, but it could use some work. I had plans for it too, but the house renovations needed to be completed first. I carried my load over to the saw horse and plywood table that I had previously set up. I dumped my load, grabbed the hose, and turned on the tap. I hated clean up. Wasn’t it enough to prep and paint without being forced to wash up all the brushes and rollers? I sighed and grabbed the brush to rinse first. I held it under the stream of water and used my other hand to work the bristles. Soon there was a puddle of yellow water that waited patiently to be sucked down into the ground.
Once I got started, the job tended to move along, and soon everything was washed and set out on the table to dry. I turned off the tap and stood up rubbing my back as I went. “Geez, all this vacation is killing my back,” I grumbled to myself. Oh well, time to head in for a shower.
I trudged back toward the door, reached out my hand, and turned the knob. Nothing happened. I tried harder pushing at the door with the little strength I had left. Still nothing. Okay now I was mad, what the hell? I tried again. Defeat. I slumped over and leaned my head against the door, “Damn, I locked myself out. How the hell did I manage that?”
I stood there for a little bit longer as I wallowed in self recrimination. Then I pulled myself back together. I needed a plan. Of course, the obvious choice was to call Dana, Missy, or Mom and Dad as they all had keys to the place. However, they were all out at Tybee relaxing and having fun. I didn’t want to bother them unless I had no other choice. So the next best idea would be to see if I had left a window open.
Thinking that, I grabbed a ladder out of the shed and tried the lower windows first. No luck, they were locked. Damn! It looked like I needed to get over my fear of heights and try the ones at the top. I tried Sam’s room first and then the guest room since they were on the back of the house; again failure. Hoping against hope that I had not locked the window in my bedroom, I moved the ladder and made the climb one last time. “Hell, yes! Thank you, God, that I’m forgetful sometimes.”
The window was unlocked. I lifted it and was trying to figure out how to climb from the ladder into the window without killing myself when I heard the scariest words ever, “Freeze, ma’am. Don’t panic. However, I need you to climb back down the ladder.”
I was frozen just like he demanded. How they hell was I supposed to move? I was in mortal shock? There was a cop with a gun pointed at me.
“Right now, ma’am.”
I nodded and made my rubbery legs work. I slowly climbed down the ladder, rung after rung, as I tried not to look at the ground or at the police officer standing on the ground. This was so not my day!
It continued to not be my day; the rookie officer arrested me. According to him, a neighbor had phoned in reporting what appeared to be a prowler in the neighborhood; then lo and behold, he had stumbled upon me trying to break into a second story window. Yes, the officer agreed that my story was good. Since I could produce no identification, he had no choice but to take me down to the precinct to sort the matter out.
I snorted to myself as I rode for the first time in my life in the back of a police cruiser and handcuffed to boot. Boy was the police commissioner going to hear it from me and my attorney ASAP!!
Once we got to the precinct, it was deserted. It was a holiday weekend. All the other officers were on patrol for real criminals, and yet somehow I was the one handcuffed and taken downtown. Oh, the irony!
Officer Going to Get a Reprimand, as I had dubbed him, indicated a folding metal chair beside an equally sad looking metal des
k.
“Have a seat.”
I flopped down into the chair and looked daggers at him.
He seemed unfazed and took a seat of his own. He tipped back in his chair and looked at me with a smartass smirk. I felt my dander starting to rise. Oh shit, this was going to be bad.
“So now that we’re down here at the station, would you like to change your story?”
I quirked up an eyebrow and let the sarcasm drip as I spoke. “Hell, no! I told you the truth the first time, and the truth hasn’t changed in the last 20 minutes.”
Officer Idiot twirled a pen in his hand and continued to have that self-satisfied smirk on his face. I wanted to punch it in. “I have to tell you, little lady, that only an idiot would believe a story like that.”
I looked him dead in the eye and took a steadying breath. “Well, I guess that means you must have changed your mind about me in the last few minutes because idiot about sums up what you are being.”
I heard a strangled chuckled from across the room, but Officer Dumbass did not blink. In fact, his eyes seemed to bug out a bit, or that was my initial impression as he got up in my face. “If I’d just been arrested for breaking and entering, I would not be insulting the guards.”
I raised my usual eyebrow. “Are you threatening me on top of everything else, officer?”
“Let’s just call it good advice.”
I snorted, “I’m sure that my attorney will appreciate the advice about as much as I do. In fact, when can I make that call?”
Officer Stuck on Himself smirked at me. “When I get damn good and ready to let you. Right now I’m sending you down to booking.”
I grimaced as the strands of “just another day in paradise” began to play through my mind. Oh what a wonderful holiday I was having. It seemed that I was fated to celebrate my country’s independence by being railroaded by “The Man.” Luck was more than not on my side these days; it had become another four letter word.
Hours had passed, and I was still sitting in a holding cell with a number of colorful women. My hands were smudged black with the fingerprinting ink, and my temper bubbled hot. There was no window in the holding cell, but I still had my watch by some miracle. It was glowing 7:16 PM. I groaned and put my head in my hands. “Why does this always happen to me?” I was minding my own business, and what do I get? Arrested, booked, and thrown in a holding cell.
I had finally made my phone call about 20 minutes earlier, and let me tell you the wrath of God was on its way to police headquarters in the guise of Marcus and Dana. I looked forward to the fireworks that would be going down here tonight almost as much as I had anticipated celebrating the evening with my family at the beach. I could picture Sam as he sat on the beach with my parents getting ready to watch the fireworks. He would be concerned about me. Even at his young age, he was very intuitive about people. He’d know something was wrong, and that it was wrong with me. My heart constricted. More than anything else in the world, I hated to cause my son pain. Damn that asshole officer! He would pay for this.
My moody brooding was interrupted by a female officer at the cell door. “Hannigan, it looks like you’re out of here.”
I looked up at her. “Did I miss all the fireworks?”
Her lips quirked up; “If you mean the ones in the lobby, then absolutely not. It looks like they’ll last a bit longer.”
I grinned back at her basking in my self-righteous anger. “Well, by all means, please lead the way, ma’am.”
And sure enough there to greet me was the very welcome sight of Marcus, Dana, and Mayor Johnson, all of whom had taken a turn in chewing the ass of that smart mouth idiot of an officer. I breathed in a sigh of smoky, stale, jailhouse air and thought that for this moment, justice was being served with a side of about time.