“Shit!” I call out into the night, stomping on the floor. My mother has stolen my car keys and wallet. I desperately dig into my jeans and am overjoyed to find that my phone was spared. Sadly, ignoring all of my built-up messages, I dial 911.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“This is Maebelle Evans. I’m calling from 810 County Road 41, just past Shady Acres Trailer Park. My mother stole my vehicle and wallet.” I leave out the part of her rendering me unconscious because I don’t want the fuss of an ambulance.
The woman doesn’t answer for a moment; surely she’s been a dispatcher here long enough to know this situation. “Mae, honey, we’re sending an officer now. Are you in immediate danger? Would you like me to remain on the line?”
“No, that won’t be necessary.”
“Bill is on his way; sit tight.”
My heart softens immediately. Bill had been on my case since the very beginning. A young rookie back then, there’s no doubt he’s on the verge of retirement.
Collapsing onto the top stair, I stare out into the swamp trying not to psych myself out about the creatures that lurk just beyond the cypress trees. I drop my head into my hands and try to block out the pain by comforting myself with lyrics from my favorite song.
My phone buzzes, breaking me out of whatever bubble I’d created for myself.
Wyatt:I’m starting to get a little worried over here. Haven’t heard from you since this morning. I’m picking up my car and am looking forward to seeing you. Text me back.
My heart breaks at his nerves. I scroll back into the conversation and see nearly ten missed messages. I’m about totext back when I realize that I want nothing more in this moment than to hear his voice. Without thinking, I hit the call button.
He picks up on the second ring. He sounds relieved as he says, “Mae! Thank God! I thought I was getting punk’d or something. I just got my car. Where can I meet you?”
“Wyatt?” I ask, all emotion flooding through the desperate plea.
“Mae, what’s wrong?” The fact that he already knows something is wrong gives me some hope that soon it’ll all be okay.
“Can you come get me?” I don’t even recognize myself; my voice is so small and timid.
“Mae, where are you? What’s going on?”
I see the flashing police lights coming through the trees as I clear my throat. “I’m … I’m at home.”
“Mae, are those police sirens? What’s going on?”
“My mom,” I blurt.
“What happened?” The worry in his own voice is palpable, and it cuts me deep.
“I’ll explain everything. Can you just come get me? I’ll send you the address. The cops are here. I should talk to them.”
“I’d feel better if you stayed on the line with me.”
Embarrassment washes over me as Bill and his partner exit their car and make their way toward the house. “The cops are walking up. I promise I’ll tell you everything.”
“Mae-”
“Thank you,” I say through tears as I hang up, hating myself for it. I quickly send him my location and then shakily stand to greet the officers.
Surprisingly, Bill pulls me into a hug before anything else. He is, in fact, older; salt and pepper hair, complete with facial hair I don’t remember him having. “Welcome home,” he says sarcastically.
When he pulls away, a pen and paper appear from his pocket. “You know the drill.” He’s right; I’ve had a bit of experience.
As I recount my story, Bill only pauses me once to make his partner grab an instant ice pack from the cruiser. “If you’re not going to get in an ambulance, which I think you should, at least put some ice on it. I’ll omit it from the report.” I nod to thank them both as the younger officer shakes the bag and then hands it to me. The pain relief is quick, but unfortunately, the toll that this evening has had on my well-being cannot so easily be reversed.
When the report is written and the call to the county office about the car and my mother is made, Bill walks me back to the trailer and takes a seat with me. My phone buzzes, but I can’t bring myself to look.
“Is your boyfriend in town?” He asks. I can tell he’s not trying to be nosy but does want to see me safe.
