“Partly I saw it on your face. Partly I just know you felt that way because anybody would’ve in your situation.”
That was an interesting thing for her to say, because it sounded like she meant I was just like everybody else, which I didn’t hear a lot or even think was true.
“This has been a very difficult time for her,” she said. “Her emotions are all over the map.”
“Right, I know, but I was expecting her to be emotional in sort of a different way.”
I didn’t say I expected her to hug me and kiss me and tell me what a hero I was to her, because it would’ve sounded stupid. But it was mostly true.
“Here’s the thing,” she said, still staring right at me, which still made me nervous. “The twenty-four hours she didn’t know where her daughter was, they were just torture for her. So I think she’s concerned about why you didn’t call sooner. So I figure when you’re done eating, you can straighten all that out for me. Tell me the story of why connecting her back to the police took you so long.”
“Yes, ma’am. I can do that.”
She turned the computer around toward me again and showed me another mug shot of another nineteen-year-old stranger. I shook my head again. She turned it back around toward her and kept clicking.
“And then we can tell her your story,” she said, “and by then she will have had a little time to process everything she’s feeling, and if it makes sense why you didn’t call sooner, I think you’ll see a different side of her.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, and I tried to take another bite of pizza but my stomach was feeling rocky. Maybe because of what we were talking about. It felt like it went with what we were talking about.
She turned her computer to face me again, and there was a picture of Bodhi. Holding up a number under his chin, and looking sort of like he was embarrassed but also like he thought it was a little bit funny at the same time, which was a very Bodhi thing to do.
“Yes, ma’am, that’s him.”
She turned it back to her and read me a little of whatever she was seeing there, other than the obvious picture.
“Denver Patterson.”
I just stared at her and blinked too much under those terrible lights because I had no idea what those two words meant. It sounded like maybe a place they’d sent him, except I don’t think the county jail ships people anywhere, and besides, other than maybe Ann Arbor or something, most places only have one name.
“Denver Patterson,” I parroted back to her, because I didn’t know what else to say.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
She looked up at me and blinked, like I’d just been doing, and for a second I thought she hated those glary lights, too. But then I decided she was just stunned by how dumb I was being, even though I didn’t know why yet.
“That’s your friend’s name,” she said.
Then we both just sat a minute without saying anything. I was thinking how it was weird that I hadn’t thought to look at his name or anything else when she had the computer turned my way. I guess I’d just been staring at his picture in shock, because even though I’d been thinking and saying that I knew he got arrested, it was still surprising to see how right I was.
“That’s weird,” I said. “You feel like you know somebody so well, but then it turns out you sort of don’t know them at all.”
“Truer words were never spoken.” Then, while I was trying to get into what that meant in my head she said, “Petty theft.”
“Probably food,” I said. “Sometimes he takes food when we really need it.”
“Might be. Says grocery items in the amount of seven dollars, fifty-two cents. He was arraigned early this morning. Pled guilty. Sentenced to ninety days.”
I felt my eyes go wide again, and I put down my slice of pizza because I would need all of this to settle before I could eat any more.
“Ninety days for seven-fifty worth of food? That seems harsh.”
“It wasn’t his first offense.”
Which I knew.
Then I looked up and that lady was standing in the open doorway, still holding the baby, who said my name when she saw me.
“Molly, Molly, Molly.”
And there was another lady with her, a great big heavy lady with a frown that looked like it was carved into her face and could never go away. I figured maybe it was the lady’s mother, but that was just a guess.
“We’re going to go home now,” the baby’s mom said, but I couldn’t tell if she was talking to the lady cop or me, because she wasn’t looking at me. She wasn’t looking at either one of us. More like down at the linoleum floor. “But I just want to say . . .” Then she just stood there for a long time, like she had no idea what she wanted to say. “I’m just so happy to have her back, so . . .” Her eyes turned to me for just a flash of a second and then she looked away again. “Thank you.”
She turned to go, and I thought, Well, there goes my second time meeting this lady and it still wasn’t good.
I know it sounded like a step in the right direction, but it was something about the way she said it, like she wished she didn’t have to. Like one of the cops told her she had to say it, or maybe her mother, or like she forced herself to do it because she couldn’t not do it. But I could tell her heart wasn’t in it.
“Wait,” I said, and she stopped. All three of them stopped. Well, the baby was in her mom’s arms, so what choice did she have? “I still don’t know her name. I couldn’t get her to tell me.”
I watched the lady’s face get a
