Disappeared

Here I sit, awaiting arraignment for something I would never do, could never do, but it happened; she disappeared. The she I’m talking about is Terry, my flaky, unreliable roommate and science lab partner. She’s one of those people who don’t have to study, and I can’t stand her. She acts like her hippie parents. Nothing phases her. She has no sense of space; everything is cool and groovy, or don’t have a cowman. I did threaten to make her disappear from the world once when she pushed up on my boyfriend, but I didn’t think it would be the last weekend I would speak to her. I wasn’t worried until I had to present and defend our project alone to our class.

I knew she had planned to visit her father over the holidays one week and her mother the next. When I returned from holiday, I found the police tossing the two-bedroom unit we shared with a set of twins. Everything was thrown out of their place, and the mattresses were off the beds. My OCD is being challenged. I could not concentrate on the questions I was being asked about her because of the mess. Our roommates had already told them about my threat to them about my things and my friends, well, boyfriend. Although a coincidence, it was enough for the police to put on blinders, and I became subject number one and only.

Indeed, it looked terrible, but I knew she would stroll in a few days late, and I would be released with an apology, but that was 22 days ago. My new year was off to a crazy start. I didn’t even get to eat the bowl of black eye peas I had gotten from the dinner spot I usually would eat at. They were crowded, too many people in my small-town restaurant. I can’t do elbow rubbing close, so I ordered to go.

As soon as I entered the apartment, I was surprised by two officers. One grabbed my packages, and the other asked for my name as she handcuffed me. The twins were not in cuffs. Seeing the chaos, I stood confused but quiet. My favorite TV shows, “crime dramas,” taught me about Miranda rights and shutting up and listening, which was so hard when I looked around to see what they had done to everyone’s belongings; a tear rolled down my right cheek.

Every fiber in me wanted to know why the white twins were not cuffed, calmly folding their clothing and giggling. At the police station, they acted differently than in the apartment, but I was not going to give up anything. So, I said only one word: L-A-W-Y-E-R! The only other thing I said was that I needed to be seat-belted, please, when they put me in the paddy wagon. What was I being arrested for? Refusing to answer any questions without a lawyer present, the police officer who checked me in told me that the courts were backed up and I should hire a lawyer myself, knowing full well that I didn’t have money to pay one. So, here I sit.

Today I feel in trouble for the first time since this started. I’ve been told that I will need representation today by nine for court. I’m taken to Albemarle County Superior Court in the orange jumpsuit with a PRISONER logo across the back. The white socks and slides on my feet. I’m being held in a room void of windows and heat—only a table with a metal ring to have the handcuffs attached. All I can do is lean on the table and my hands because I don’t see any chairs.

It is after nine, and I hear voices outside the door. A burly man walks into the room with a briefcase and a garment bag. Ms. Walker, I’m Franklin, your lawyer. I don’t know how I will ever pay you. Pay me for what? For representing me. Actually, what are the charges? Attempted murder. Whom did I try to kill? You were in protected custody. No one. I know you don’t know what is going on yet. Just get dressed, and the judge will come in and fill you in.

I was uncuffed and allowed to get dressed. Judge A. C. Hooper knocked on the door. Ms. Walker, I need to show you some photos of several people on the closed-circuit monitor. Okay. Who is this? One of my roommates, a twin Sandra or Sally. They are now in custody along with Paul and Terry. I’m confused. My boyfriend and all three of my roommates. I have another photo to show you; who is this? That is G, umm, I don’t remember his first name. I always call him G! I don’t understand; I only see G on Friday evenings when I stop at 7-Eleven for two hotdogs and lottery tickets. What’s going on?

After checking the security footage, we discovered a conspiracy to kill you if they could have cashed that ticket. You’re lucky because Gary is the clerk from the store. Someone tried to cash in your winning numbers. You made an impression on him. He knew that they were not the owner of the ticket. When another person presented the ticket with a signature, he processed the paperwork but notified the authorities. Gary saved your life, young lady.

Your paranoia about the police worked in our favor. We could arrest the thief, Paul, based on the information Terry revealed. Terry was afraid of Paul after failing to cash in the ticket, and she has been in custody since December 30th. The twins admitted their involvement after they were threatened with incarceration. Everyone will be going away for at least twenty years.

That was three years ago…

I’ll be the first to admit that G was just the dude behind the counter before all of this. Yeah, I may have said hello, thank you, or do you have more buns? I’m a naturally chatty kind of gal. Paul used to say I flirted with everyone whether I intended to or not. G disappeared from my memory as soon as I walked out of the store.

 Now G Gary and I own that 7-Eleven and four others. After the court case against the four people I had trusted the most in the world was over, G and I started dating. Six months ago, we married after I realized he was the one I used to daydream about when I disappeared into my thoughts.