==*==
He just wanted to be out of his head tonight.
He just wanted to forget the day and be consumed by the night.
He just wanted to escape himself--his thoughts, his conscience.
==*==
The day had started off well enough. The usual routine: wake up, wake up the kids and the husband, get everyone ready, make the lunches, get the kids off to school and make sure Fred didn't walk out the door without his pants.
Every morning the same thing. And after they leave, I stand there, never really fully awake, in the midst of an apartment that looks like it was annihilated by a tornado. I eat my breakfast, then rush around the house like a mad woman trying to pick up the majority of the mess, shower, and get to work on time.
Not today. Today it could wait. Because I had the day off, and Charlie's teacher conferences weren't until 6:30. That meant a bubble bath, an afternoon of soap operas and ice cream, and best of all, SILENCE.
I spent the day in sweats and a tee shirt, curled on the couch thinking about the things I WOULD have been doing if I had not gotten the day off. I must admit, it was nice to do nothing for a day.
Ordered Chinese for lunch, pizza for dinner. The sitter came over, Fred and I went to the conferences and then out for coffee. We haven't talked in awhile, and I can't remember how many years it's been since we've had the chance to sit around in a coffee house and listen to the mellow jazz and just talk.
It was a good day.
That's why I didn't expect to go home and see what I saw. I would have missed it--I was brushing my teeth--but Fred had the TV on in the bedroom and he called me in to see it.
The reporter was talking about an accident that had just taken place, minutes ago. A kidnapped girl about to be released to her family, who had just paid her ransom, had been thrown out of her captor's car during a police chase. She had hit the police car behind them, snapping her neck instantly. A quick shot of the crime scene made me swallow my mouthful of toothpaste before I could stop myself.
They were pulling the bagged up body off of our squad.
The windshield of 55-David was a spider web of cracks, and in the quick shots that followed, I could see it had been driven right into the concrete underpass of a bridge.
"Bosco was working tonight." I whispered, wiping my mouth and sitting on the bed beside Fred, who was also intently watching.
"You would have been working tonight." He whispered back, eyes never leaving the screen.
"THERE" he yelled suddenly, pointing quickly at the set, where Bosco could be clearly seen in the background, sitting on a curb, head buried in his hands.
The report ended, I caught the part about minor injuries only, and the kidnappers had been caught, then grabbed the phone and dialed Bosco's cell phone. An automated voice told me his phone was currently not on, and would I like to leave a message?
"Bosco, it's me, call me when you get this--I don't care what time--Just want to make sure you're ok..."
Called the station, but Bosco was still out--the news footage had been live, and he wouldn't be back for awhile. I told the precinct to have him call me, but apparently the message was never delivered. Even after I called three times to remind them.
Fred fell asleep around 12:30.
I tried to sleep--I mean, Bosco was obviously ok. He wouldn't have been sitting on the curb alone if he had been hurt, and they would have called me if he had been taken to the hospital.
But still...I couldn't shake that feeling...
I called his cell phone again around 1, then 1:15...1:30...he wasn't answering. I kept calling, but stopped leaving messages, and started calling his house instead.
"Hey, it's me again...call me when you get in...I'll be up...call me when you get this...
I tried to reason with myself. For all I knew, he was out with some girl, painting the town and having a wild night. But...I don't know...I guess you could call it mother's instinct, but I wasn't buying it. I couldn't convince myself, and even though I felt like I was overreacting, some part of me didn't think so.
By 3 am, Fred was snoring fitfully beside me, mouth hanging open, eyes moving behind his dark eyelids. He didn't even feel me get out of bed or hear the door open and close.
I went and sat down in the living room, in the dark, not quite sure what to do. I felt like I had to do something, but I didn't know what.
The next thing I remember is putting the keys into the ignition of Fred's truck. I didn't know where I was going, but I needed to get out. I made sure my cell phone was with me though, and kept trying his every once and awhile.
I drove for awhile, not really knowing where I was going, turning down streets and side streets and getting lost, then finding my way again. No real end destination. Just driving.
I don't remember most of it, but when I pulled up to a stop light at the intersection of Amsterdam and 108th, the mother's instinct feeling came back. I found myself pulling across the street into the parking lot of "Jake's Tavern" just in time to see my very drunk partner stumble out to his car.
I stopped for a minute and watched him, shocked by what I was seeing. In all of New York, I find my partner at some hole in the wall bar on a whim. Like miraculously finding a needle in a haystack.
He didn't see me pull in, even though my headlights flashed across his back. I watched as he dug in his pockets for his keys, looking quite inebriated and swaying a lot.
I cut the ignition, jumped out of the car and yelled to him. He stopped, started to turn toward my voice, and I ran up to him just in time to save him from falling on his ass.
His dead weight in my arms was too much to handle so I leaned him against his car and gently took his keys from his hand. Bosco NEVER lets anyone take his keys, but he was so out of it he didn't even notice.
He squinted towards me, and I stepped in front of the light from the street lamp to shield his eyes. He smiled, and I could do nothing but stare at him for a minute, smiling back.
It wasn't that cold, but I had goosebumps all over my arms.
His head swayed on his shoulders, and he was looking at me like I was a three-headed clown or something.
"Bosco, how many drinks did you HAVE?" (I asked more out of mere curiosity than anything else)
He laughed and continued to stare at me.
"Let's get you home."
I walked over to him and put my arm around his waist, and helped him get into the truck. It wouldn't have been so hard had he not passed out half way into the passenger seat. After a bit of struggling, I got him buckled in and started toward his apartment.
The whole way there all I could think of was the feeling I'd had that night. How I had just happened to be driving down that road and seen that bar--and thought to pull into the parking lot JUST in time to stop him from getting behind the wheel--it was really kind of creepy.
One thing I learned from the experience: It is very difficult to get a semi- conscious drunk man up a staircase, let alone 3. He almost fell over when I leaned him against the wall outside his apartment while I unlocked the door.
It was a struggle to get his clothes off too. I left him in his tee-shirt and boxers, but as I was pulling his shirt off over his head, he hissed in pain and I found a huge round bruise on his chest. It was about the size of our RMP steering wheel, so I figured he must have been driving during the accident.
I helped him to bed, the whole time he was mumbling something about Angels...and when I finally laid him down, he said the first semi-coherent thing all night.
"Where are your wingsss?"
I couldn't help but laugh, kissed him on the head, and told him to go to sleep.
==*==
Fred let me sleep in, so I think he knows I went out looking for Bosco. When I did wake up, once again, the channel 5 news brought me more startling images, and again the goosebumps returned.
"Jakes Tavern" was destroyed by a gas leak an hour after I'd found Bosco there--the whole building pretty much exploded, and Bosco's car was completely destroyed.
I was afraid of his reaction going into work, trying to figure out how I would explain to him why I didn't drive him home in his car--his precious baby--but he never mentioned it.
Don't tell him I said anything, but all he could talk about during the whole shift was the Angel who had saved him that night. I must say, the way he described the incident was so flattering and so funny, I still haven't had the heart to tell him.
I have noticed him looking at me a couple times...with that same three- headed-clown look I had gotten that night...almost like he knows but he's denying it.
All I can do is smile and thank God that I found him outside of that bar.
I do think that there was an Angel there watching over Bosco that night. But I think that the real Angel is the one who guided me to find him and help him home.
I asked him one time why he believes it so strongly. He was drunk afterall-- he admitted it to me. I argued that he could have been hallucinating.
He smiled from ear to ear, and simply said, "Sometimes all you need is Faith."
~~~~~~~~~~
The End
~~~~~~~~~~
Note: Hehe, hope you liked it--I thought it was kind of a cute idea--bonus points to AC for predicting the ending correctly! Always thought that Faith was Bosco's Angel--but I think Bosco needed to know that too...
~Amanda
He just wanted to be out of his head tonight.
He just wanted to forget the day and be consumed by the night.
He just wanted to escape himself--his thoughts, his conscience.
==*==
The day had started off well enough. The usual routine: wake up, wake up the kids and the husband, get everyone ready, make the lunches, get the kids off to school and make sure Fred didn't walk out the door without his pants.
Every morning the same thing. And after they leave, I stand there, never really fully awake, in the midst of an apartment that looks like it was annihilated by a tornado. I eat my breakfast, then rush around the house like a mad woman trying to pick up the majority of the mess, shower, and get to work on time.
Not today. Today it could wait. Because I had the day off, and Charlie's teacher conferences weren't until 6:30. That meant a bubble bath, an afternoon of soap operas and ice cream, and best of all, SILENCE.
I spent the day in sweats and a tee shirt, curled on the couch thinking about the things I WOULD have been doing if I had not gotten the day off. I must admit, it was nice to do nothing for a day.
Ordered Chinese for lunch, pizza for dinner. The sitter came over, Fred and I went to the conferences and then out for coffee. We haven't talked in awhile, and I can't remember how many years it's been since we've had the chance to sit around in a coffee house and listen to the mellow jazz and just talk.
It was a good day.
That's why I didn't expect to go home and see what I saw. I would have missed it--I was brushing my teeth--but Fred had the TV on in the bedroom and he called me in to see it.
The reporter was talking about an accident that had just taken place, minutes ago. A kidnapped girl about to be released to her family, who had just paid her ransom, had been thrown out of her captor's car during a police chase. She had hit the police car behind them, snapping her neck instantly. A quick shot of the crime scene made me swallow my mouthful of toothpaste before I could stop myself.
They were pulling the bagged up body off of our squad.
The windshield of 55-David was a spider web of cracks, and in the quick shots that followed, I could see it had been driven right into the concrete underpass of a bridge.
"Bosco was working tonight." I whispered, wiping my mouth and sitting on the bed beside Fred, who was also intently watching.
"You would have been working tonight." He whispered back, eyes never leaving the screen.
"THERE" he yelled suddenly, pointing quickly at the set, where Bosco could be clearly seen in the background, sitting on a curb, head buried in his hands.
The report ended, I caught the part about minor injuries only, and the kidnappers had been caught, then grabbed the phone and dialed Bosco's cell phone. An automated voice told me his phone was currently not on, and would I like to leave a message?
"Bosco, it's me, call me when you get this--I don't care what time--Just want to make sure you're ok..."
Called the station, but Bosco was still out--the news footage had been live, and he wouldn't be back for awhile. I told the precinct to have him call me, but apparently the message was never delivered. Even after I called three times to remind them.
Fred fell asleep around 12:30.
I tried to sleep--I mean, Bosco was obviously ok. He wouldn't have been sitting on the curb alone if he had been hurt, and they would have called me if he had been taken to the hospital.
But still...I couldn't shake that feeling...
I called his cell phone again around 1, then 1:15...1:30...he wasn't answering. I kept calling, but stopped leaving messages, and started calling his house instead.
"Hey, it's me again...call me when you get in...I'll be up...call me when you get this...
I tried to reason with myself. For all I knew, he was out with some girl, painting the town and having a wild night. But...I don't know...I guess you could call it mother's instinct, but I wasn't buying it. I couldn't convince myself, and even though I felt like I was overreacting, some part of me didn't think so.
By 3 am, Fred was snoring fitfully beside me, mouth hanging open, eyes moving behind his dark eyelids. He didn't even feel me get out of bed or hear the door open and close.
I went and sat down in the living room, in the dark, not quite sure what to do. I felt like I had to do something, but I didn't know what.
The next thing I remember is putting the keys into the ignition of Fred's truck. I didn't know where I was going, but I needed to get out. I made sure my cell phone was with me though, and kept trying his every once and awhile.
I drove for awhile, not really knowing where I was going, turning down streets and side streets and getting lost, then finding my way again. No real end destination. Just driving.
I don't remember most of it, but when I pulled up to a stop light at the intersection of Amsterdam and 108th, the mother's instinct feeling came back. I found myself pulling across the street into the parking lot of "Jake's Tavern" just in time to see my very drunk partner stumble out to his car.
I stopped for a minute and watched him, shocked by what I was seeing. In all of New York, I find my partner at some hole in the wall bar on a whim. Like miraculously finding a needle in a haystack.
He didn't see me pull in, even though my headlights flashed across his back. I watched as he dug in his pockets for his keys, looking quite inebriated and swaying a lot.
I cut the ignition, jumped out of the car and yelled to him. He stopped, started to turn toward my voice, and I ran up to him just in time to save him from falling on his ass.
His dead weight in my arms was too much to handle so I leaned him against his car and gently took his keys from his hand. Bosco NEVER lets anyone take his keys, but he was so out of it he didn't even notice.
He squinted towards me, and I stepped in front of the light from the street lamp to shield his eyes. He smiled, and I could do nothing but stare at him for a minute, smiling back.
It wasn't that cold, but I had goosebumps all over my arms.
His head swayed on his shoulders, and he was looking at me like I was a three-headed clown or something.
"Bosco, how many drinks did you HAVE?" (I asked more out of mere curiosity than anything else)
He laughed and continued to stare at me.
"Let's get you home."
I walked over to him and put my arm around his waist, and helped him get into the truck. It wouldn't have been so hard had he not passed out half way into the passenger seat. After a bit of struggling, I got him buckled in and started toward his apartment.
The whole way there all I could think of was the feeling I'd had that night. How I had just happened to be driving down that road and seen that bar--and thought to pull into the parking lot JUST in time to stop him from getting behind the wheel--it was really kind of creepy.
One thing I learned from the experience: It is very difficult to get a semi- conscious drunk man up a staircase, let alone 3. He almost fell over when I leaned him against the wall outside his apartment while I unlocked the door.
It was a struggle to get his clothes off too. I left him in his tee-shirt and boxers, but as I was pulling his shirt off over his head, he hissed in pain and I found a huge round bruise on his chest. It was about the size of our RMP steering wheel, so I figured he must have been driving during the accident.
I helped him to bed, the whole time he was mumbling something about Angels...and when I finally laid him down, he said the first semi-coherent thing all night.
"Where are your wingsss?"
I couldn't help but laugh, kissed him on the head, and told him to go to sleep.
==*==
Fred let me sleep in, so I think he knows I went out looking for Bosco. When I did wake up, once again, the channel 5 news brought me more startling images, and again the goosebumps returned.
"Jakes Tavern" was destroyed by a gas leak an hour after I'd found Bosco there--the whole building pretty much exploded, and Bosco's car was completely destroyed.
I was afraid of his reaction going into work, trying to figure out how I would explain to him why I didn't drive him home in his car--his precious baby--but he never mentioned it.
Don't tell him I said anything, but all he could talk about during the whole shift was the Angel who had saved him that night. I must say, the way he described the incident was so flattering and so funny, I still haven't had the heart to tell him.
I have noticed him looking at me a couple times...with that same three- headed-clown look I had gotten that night...almost like he knows but he's denying it.
All I can do is smile and thank God that I found him outside of that bar.
I do think that there was an Angel there watching over Bosco that night. But I think that the real Angel is the one who guided me to find him and help him home.
I asked him one time why he believes it so strongly. He was drunk afterall-- he admitted it to me. I argued that he could have been hallucinating.
He smiled from ear to ear, and simply said, "Sometimes all you need is Faith."
~~~~~~~~~~
The End
~~~~~~~~~~
Note: Hehe, hope you liked it--I thought it was kind of a cute idea--bonus points to AC for predicting the ending correctly! Always thought that Faith was Bosco's Angel--but I think Bosco needed to know that too...
~Amanda
