In Connecticut. And it wasn’t even mywedding!
Click.
Uh-oh. These guys meantbusiness. I stared at the gun that moved a little closer to methrough the open windows. Two white guys with serious menace intheir eyes, cocking their weapons. I hoped I wouldn’t pee in mypants and totally embarrass myself. The guns looked real enough tome. And of all the absurd things to flicker across my mind in amoment of true crisis, was I wonder if theywere made in Taiwan?
I blinked.Think, idiot. Act!
But I waited because so farthey hadn’t said anything. I then did something even more stupid. Ibecame my mother. I threw my arm across the front of Ferric’s bodyas she once had in a traffic collision long before seatbelts becamemandatory. She’d thrust her arm in front of me to ward offdanger. As if.
You will behappy.
Yeah, right.
“Get out, nice and slow. Yougot a wallet on you?”
I nodded.
“Take it out. Put it on theconsole.”
I did as I was told. I grabbed Ferric’shand, but he was already getting out of the passengerside.
“Cell phone?” the guy besideme asked.
“I don’t know where itis…must be in the car.” I don’t know what made me lie except somepart of me rose in defiance against being a victim. My teethchattered. He must have believed me.
My focus was on Ferric. I cared moreabout him than myself and I begged the guy who stood beside him,“Please don’t hurt my son.”
Ferric walked over to me, around theback of the car, keeping a distance as if he was walking behind ahorse that might suddenly kick him. He stood beside me and I tookhis hand, thankful that he was okay. The two gunmen jumped into ourcar and took off.
I pressed 911 on the cell phone in myjacket pocket, drawing it out to my ear.
Damn! I’m on hold! Who getsput on hold when you call 911?
You will behappy.
Fuck!
I really started to fret then. Iwondered how pissed the gunmen would be when they realized mywallet had only my license and a few bucks in it and none of mycredit cards. Those were in the billfold in my pantspocket.
“Geez, Leilani is gonna besore about the wedding cake,” Ferric said.
Cool kid.
I stared at him. Sometimeshe surprised me. Scratch that. He constantly surprised me. Here I washaving a genuine diaper moment and he was thinking about thewedding cake. I kept forgetting he grew up in the Opa-Lockaneighborhood of Miami, which had the dubious distinction of beingdeclared the most violent neighborhood in the US.
The police pulled up as ourrental car was a distant glow of taillights. The officers staredout at us. Their gazes hardened when they saw my African American,dreadlocked son. God helpme. Hartford may have been gay-friendly,but it seemed they weren’t above a bit of racialprofiling.
“You’re too late,” I said.“They took the car. That’s them making a left down the end of thesecond block. I was just calling you.”
The cops turned, looked, saw the carturn and glanced back at us.
“You’re not from aroundhere, are you?” The officer at the wheel got out of the vehicle ashe addressed Ferric.
“He’s thirteen years old,” Isaid. “He’s my son.”
They both stood outside the vehiclenow, staring at us, hands on their holstered weapons.
Holy shit, we could stilldie!
The officers looked me upand down. Yeah, I knew I was lily-white and my lavender-huedAloha shirt was possiblyin questionable taste in Connecticut, but heck, we were the victimshere. And besides, Ferric and I wore matching shirts. We were partof the bridal party.
I could tell they didn’t believe Ferricwas a teenager. He looked older than his thirteen years owing tohis height. He was already five feet, eleven inches, but althoughhe was not yet a man, he was still a kid.
“Can I see some ID?” thefirst officer asked.
“They stole it! We just gotcar jacked!” My voice rose. “They made me take it out and put it onthe console. They stuck a gun in my kid’s face!”
“Yours, too, Dad.” Ferric’svoice was quiet. For the first time he seemed upset. We were at animpasse until the woman who’d watched us from behind her curtainscame out onto the street.
“Oh, I’m the one whocalled,” she said from her safe vantage point just beyond herdoorway.
Ferric and I turned to look ather.
“Sit on the sidewalk,” thefirst officer said. Ferric and I sat. I was still holding his hand.The officers walked back to the house.
“Dad is gonna be so pissed,”Ferric said.
Oh, God. Francois. Yeah. He was gonnakill me. “I deserve it,” I said, close to tears. “I’m so sorry,Ferric.”
“Not at you, at them.” Hesqueezed my fingers and lowered his voice. “Did you see theexpression on their faces when you told them I’m your son?” Helooked gleeful for a moment. We lapsed into silence. I’d gottenFerric into a dangerous situation. If I were Francois, I’d pack upand leave me and take my kid far, far away. And I’d buy him a Repcoboys’ bicycle from Australia, just for his troubles.
The cops returned.
“You know somebody calledFrancois Aumary?” the first one asked.
“Yes. He’s my partner andFerric’s dad,” I said.
“He’s on his way. The ownerof this residence verifies your story. Mind telling me what you’redoing out here?”
Ferric’s fingers squeezed mineagain.
“Picking up a weddingcake.”
“What happened,exactly?”
“These two guys came out ofnowhere as I stopped at the stop sign to let an old man cross theroad. Next thing we knew, they were pointing guns atus.”
“And who is the owner of thevehicle you were driving?”
“It’s a rental. We got it atthe airport from…” I frowned, trying to think which company we’drented it from.
“Hertz,” Ferricsupplied.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Don’t suppose you have therental agreement on you?” the second cop asked.
“It’s in the glovecompartment, along with my Game Boy.” Ferric’s head drooped. We hadthe bridal gift in the trunk. My laptop, too. I mentioned this tothe officers, because my laptop was equipped withLojack.
“We’ll get out an APB,” thesecond officer said and hurried back to his vehicle.
“I keep wondering why,” Isaid. “There wasn’t anything special about the car. It was just anordinary four-door sedan.”
“Dad,” Ferric said. “Mystopwatch is in there.”
He looked devastated. Ferric hadconverted
