There my mom stood, her arms open, waiting to share a mother-son moment.
My father, only a few feet away in the back of a cop car, was glaring at
me. I looked at both of them. I took off running down the street.
"Wait, JT! Stop!" my mom called.
"Hold on there!" a police officer called to me.
No one took after me though. Well, my mom made a half-effort, but one of the cops slowed her down. I didn't know where I was running to, but I knew I had to get three as quick as I could.
I collapsed outside school. My legs wouldn't hold me up anymore.
My mind went back to the day. I could remember saying anything or doing anything out of the ordinary that would have gotten my dad in trouble. I would remember something like that.
"How could you be so stupid?" I whispered to myself. "What will everyone think of me? What does my dad think of me?" I didn't bother to get up. Three hours later, I still hadn't bothered to get up. It was getting dark. I was starting to get cold, but not cold enough to get up. I checked my watch; it was 8 o'clock.
A cop was heading toward me from down the street. I knew he was coming for me, but I didn't bother to get up to meet him halfway. He'd make it to me sooner or later.
"Your mother's getting worried," he said to me. I didn't respond, so he tried again. "You don't have to worry about your dad anymore. He's going to jail." That didn't get a response from me either. He gave it another go. "Some officers from the sex crime's unit are waiting to talk to you when you're ready." Still, no response from me. "Come on son," he finally said, taking me by the arm to lead me home.
I jerked my arm from him hard and fast. "Don't ever call me son! You're not my father! I'm no one's son! Don't ever call me that again! No one can ever call me that!"
"Ok, ok," he said, trying to calm me down.
And just as quickly as I had gotten angry, I calmed down.
"So what do the detectives from se..." the word stuck in my throat. "So what do those detectives want to talk to me about?" I asked, rephrasing a bit.
"About your dad, I think," he said, carefully. We got up to the porch of my house, and walked inside. Right away, my mom jumped up from the couch and hugged me. I hugged her back, stiffly. A woman stood up and stepped toward me.
"I'm Jane from the sex crimes unit. We were wondering if you'd go back to the station with us to talk a little bit," she said gently.
"Sure, but I don't know what all the fuss is about. Nothing's wrong," I tried to reassure her.
She turned to the man who had been sitting next to her. "This is my partner Paul." He sort of nodded at me, and they both turned and headed out the door. Assuming that they wanted me to follow them, I turned to do the same.
"Do you want me to come with you, honey?" my mom asked.
"No, I'll be fine," I responded.
"Ok," she said, turning backing into the kitchen. Now this is one thing about my mom that just kills me. Any other mother would have realized that I did not want to 'go down to the station' alone, and that as a proper mother, she would come with. So, instead, of course, she'd be staying at home.
I headed to the cop's car, which didn't look like a cop's car. Paul was holding the front door open for me. I ignored him, and opened the back door and got in. I didn't really want him dictating to me where I was and wasn't allowed to sit. As soon as I got my seatbelt on, Jane started driving.
That kind of surprised me. I thought about it on the way to the station. On the infrequent occasions that my mom and dad were ever in a car together, my mother never drove. The man of the house always drove when the family was in the car. This was just a little bit odd.
When we got there, I opened my own door (thank you very much Paul) and followed them in. They ushered me into a interview room, and left me there alone.
"Wait, JT! Stop!" my mom called.
"Hold on there!" a police officer called to me.
No one took after me though. Well, my mom made a half-effort, but one of the cops slowed her down. I didn't know where I was running to, but I knew I had to get three as quick as I could.
I collapsed outside school. My legs wouldn't hold me up anymore.
My mind went back to the day. I could remember saying anything or doing anything out of the ordinary that would have gotten my dad in trouble. I would remember something like that.
"How could you be so stupid?" I whispered to myself. "What will everyone think of me? What does my dad think of me?" I didn't bother to get up. Three hours later, I still hadn't bothered to get up. It was getting dark. I was starting to get cold, but not cold enough to get up. I checked my watch; it was 8 o'clock.
A cop was heading toward me from down the street. I knew he was coming for me, but I didn't bother to get up to meet him halfway. He'd make it to me sooner or later.
"Your mother's getting worried," he said to me. I didn't respond, so he tried again. "You don't have to worry about your dad anymore. He's going to jail." That didn't get a response from me either. He gave it another go. "Some officers from the sex crime's unit are waiting to talk to you when you're ready." Still, no response from me. "Come on son," he finally said, taking me by the arm to lead me home.
I jerked my arm from him hard and fast. "Don't ever call me son! You're not my father! I'm no one's son! Don't ever call me that again! No one can ever call me that!"
"Ok, ok," he said, trying to calm me down.
And just as quickly as I had gotten angry, I calmed down.
"So what do the detectives from se..." the word stuck in my throat. "So what do those detectives want to talk to me about?" I asked, rephrasing a bit.
"About your dad, I think," he said, carefully. We got up to the porch of my house, and walked inside. Right away, my mom jumped up from the couch and hugged me. I hugged her back, stiffly. A woman stood up and stepped toward me.
"I'm Jane from the sex crimes unit. We were wondering if you'd go back to the station with us to talk a little bit," she said gently.
"Sure, but I don't know what all the fuss is about. Nothing's wrong," I tried to reassure her.
She turned to the man who had been sitting next to her. "This is my partner Paul." He sort of nodded at me, and they both turned and headed out the door. Assuming that they wanted me to follow them, I turned to do the same.
"Do you want me to come with you, honey?" my mom asked.
"No, I'll be fine," I responded.
"Ok," she said, turning backing into the kitchen. Now this is one thing about my mom that just kills me. Any other mother would have realized that I did not want to 'go down to the station' alone, and that as a proper mother, she would come with. So, instead, of course, she'd be staying at home.
I headed to the cop's car, which didn't look like a cop's car. Paul was holding the front door open for me. I ignored him, and opened the back door and got in. I didn't really want him dictating to me where I was and wasn't allowed to sit. As soon as I got my seatbelt on, Jane started driving.
That kind of surprised me. I thought about it on the way to the station. On the infrequent occasions that my mom and dad were ever in a car together, my mother never drove. The man of the house always drove when the family was in the car. This was just a little bit odd.
When we got there, I opened my own door (thank you very much Paul) and followed them in. They ushered me into a interview room, and left me there alone.