I remember the day I met Blaise Corso as clear as day. I was eight years old, on the way home from a skating competition. I was all excited because I had just won a third place medal, and even though I didn't really like ice skating too much I was really proud. My parents had decided to stop at an ice cream parlor as a treat.
Blaise was behind my family in line. She was off duty, so she was wearing street clothes, but I remember thinking she was the prettiest woman I had ever seen and I didn't hesitate to tell her so. She smiled kindly at me and thanked me and I immediately launched about ten questions at her. What was her name, did she have any pets, what was her favorite color, her favorite animal? She introduced herself as Detective Blaise Corso and answered all my questions.
"Look what I won today," I said proudly, showing her my medal.
"Very cool," I remember she said and gave me a high five. My parents apologized to her for my questions, but she insisted that it was no problem and that she liked it. I beamed at her and told her that when I grew up I was going to be an Olympic figure skater. My parents said that my future profession changed on a weekly basis. It took me only five minutes for me to become friends with Blaise Corso.
Somehow it got into my head that it would be a great idea to play tag with my new friend. I raced toward the door, daring Blaise to catch me and the next thing I knew, a hand behind me had grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me against them.
It's hard to differentiate between what I remember and what I found out in the articles I found at the library when I was old enough to go by myself. I can never tell if I just remember something or if I read about it.
My parents and Blaise would have seen what I didn't; a man in a red hoodie and a black baseball cap had walked into the store, pulled out a gun and grabbed me as a human shield. Somewhere in the chaos Blaise had pulled out her own gun and shouted at the man to drop the gun and place his hands behind his head. The man (who I later found out was named Jason Mathers) tightened his hold on me and told Blaise that she should drop her own gun. I started to cry. When Jason yelled at me and shook me a bit, Blaise demanded that he let me go. He refused and cocked the gun.
Everything happened in a blur after that. I remember Blaise fired first and clipped his shoulder. He let go of me as he recoiled and I bolted to my mother. The man fired back three times and fled the ice cream parlor. My mother covered my eyes as the girl behind the counter dialed 911.
When the police cars and ambulance arrived, my mother instructed me to look at the window and only the window. I was not to turn around. I saw a man and a woman running toward the door, paramedics following close behind. The man rushed right past me, shouting Blaise's name. The woman talked with the girl behind the counter.
I never took my eyes off the window.
The paramedics brought in a stretcher, and my mother told me to close my eyes. I obeyed, but when I heard them wheel the stretcher past me I opened my eyes the tiniest fraction and peeked through my eyelids. A black bag was laying on top of it and I watched as they loaded it into the back of an ambulance. My mom told me it was okay to look again, but that I still couldn't turn around.
The man was now going around, talking to the witnesses. One woman he talked to pointed at me, and when he turned to look at me I felt like I had shrunk to half my size. Even then I could tell that he was a detective too. His eyes were the same color I used to color the sky in my coloring books, and they stared into my own for a long second before looking up at my mother.
My parents decided to go to the funeral. I wasn't allowed to go. Blaise was on the news everywhere, everyone talking about her bravery and how she selflessly gave her life to save a child's. The detective with the blue eyes admitted that they hadn't caught Jason Mathers yet.
Every time I think back to that day I always assumed Blaise was there to get some ice cream. Now that I've had some time to think about it, I realize that she was my guardian angel and that she was there that day to protect me.
Now, I'm twenty-four years old and I'm a rookie at the San Francisco Police Department. I know that being a cop is a dangerous job, a lesson I learned as a child, a lesson my parents never fail to remind me of. But it's what I want to do. It's my way of thanking Blaise.
There's a picture of her on the wall in the locker room as a reminder to everyone about what this job could cost you. The picture's obviously been there a while, but Blaise still smiles at every rookie when they arrive for the day and as they leave, just the same as when they first put her picture there. Every day as I pass by it, I send a silent thanks up to her.
It took me five minutes to become friends with Blaise Corso but it took me sixteen years to give her the respect she deserves. I owe my life to her and so much more.
My first week as a cop passed faster than I could blink. An older cop, Will Harding, smiled mischievously at me as he handed me the week's case files. It was my job to bring the files from the front desk to the head detective, Mal Fallon. I hadn't met him yet, but I'd heard rumors that he had a horrible temper, and that if he was in a bad mood and you managed to piss him off more you were in for one hell of a chewing out.
I walked over to his desk almost silently, gingerly placed the files on his desk and started to retreat as fast as I could. I had hoped that I could make it out unnoticed and without a confrontation, but I had no such luck.
"You, Kling," Detective Fallon snapped as I attempted to make my escape.
I turned. "Yes sir?" That's when I saw those blue eyes. The same ones that I had seen sixteen years ago in the ice cream parlor. The face they belonged to was older, but those eyes were undeniably the same. I knew I was staring at him, but I couldn't bring myself to look away until I realized that he had been talking to me.
"Wha- I'm sorry, sir, could you repeat that?"
"Get your ears cleaned out," he snapped, and I knew I had just pissed off an already annoyed Detective Fallon. "I said, are these the files from the front desk?"
"Yes, sir."
"You don't have to 'sir' me all the time," he grumbled. "All the rookies do that, and it's the most annoying thing in the world. And next time, when someone asks you something, pay attention. If you fail to pay attention in the field, you'll be dead before you can count to three." He opened the files and began reviewing them. I started to walk away, but then turned back, desperate, for some reason, to tell him why I was a cop.
"Sir?" I asked in the smallest voice I could.
"What is it, Kling?" He drawled at me, not bothering to look up.
"I- um, it's just- I saw you before. When I was eight." Now he looked up, staring at me like I was crazy.
"Excuse me?" I felt like I was much smaller, much like I had that day I first saw him.
"That day, sixteen years ago, in the ice cream parlor," I quickly explained, tripping over my words. "I saw you there, the day that Blaise- I mean Detective Corso saved my life. I remember you were there."
Detective Fallon sat back in his chair. If he had doubted my sincerity, or had thought that I had been dared by the other rookies to talk to him for more than three words, those doubts were gone. "I remember that day."
I took that as a cue to continue. "It's just that she's the reason I became a cop," I stammered. "I was only eight, but that day changed everything for me. I mean, I'm alive and healthy, all because of Blaise. I just fell like this is a way to give her the respect I wasn't old enough to give her when I was eight." Detective Fallon was quiet for a long time. He closed his eyes and seemed to be thinking.
"Kling, let me tell you something about Blaise," he said, leaning forward in his chair again. "Blaise was one of my best friends in the world. I knew her in high school and through college and I had the privilege of working with her for years." He paused to compose himself. "I remember you from that day. You were the little kid at the scene, the one in the black sports jacket wearing a medal." I nodded as he continued. "Blaise spent a total of six years working here. Let me tell you this: in all your time here, which if you do it correctly should be about fifty years. In all your time here, if you're half the cop that Blaise Corso was in her six years, then you're in store for a great career."
"I agree," I told him.
"Now get back to work. The government doesn't pay you to stand around and cry." He smirked at me and I smiled back as I backed away.
"Oh, and Kling?" he called after me.
"Yes s- detective?" I managed to catch myself that time.
"Welcome to the SFPD."