Twice

I’m sitting at my desk in the police station, finishing up paperwork before I go home for the day. I close my laptop and stand up to turn in my equipment. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sir,” I say to my sergeant. He’s on the phone so I just wave.

”Okay, hold on one minute,” he says to someone on the phone. He waves me into his office, “Hugh, I have someone on the phone for you.” 

I’m skeptical when I take the phone from him. “Officer Hugh,” I say. 

“Leah.” 

“Who is this?” I recognize the voice but it sounds like my brother. I feel so sick. 

“It’s your brother, Dylan. Dylan Hugh.” 

I stay quiet and hand the phone back to my sergeant. It’s been a long day. I’m not playing these sick games. My brother has been dead for years. It’s a cruel game someone’s playing on me. 

“Is everything okay?” My sergeant asks me, hanging up the phone. 

“Yes.” I leave for the day.

The next evening, I come into work at 3 o’clock pm for the afternoon shift. My sergeant pulls me aside. 

“Hugh, I gave that guy your number. He said he was your brother and needed to talk to you. I don’t know what the deal is but if you need to block him, you can do so. He kept calling. I had to do something,” he says. He pats me on the shoulder and gives me a look. I’m not crazy, right? 

My phone rings, “Officer Hugh,” I answer. 

“It’s Dylan.”

I stay quiet again, baffled and at a loss for words. “Stop this sick game, my brother’s been dead.” 

“I know. But I need you to believe me. Meet up with me. I know you work in Raleigh. Meet up with me,” he’s whispering really fast. 

“I’m at work.” 

“I know. Please.” 

“I’ll be at Little Native at 6 o’clock,” I whisper over the phone. 

“They close at 5.” 

“See you there,” I say and hang up the phone without further notice. 

I sit at the station anxiously. What if this is a set up? What if I’m getting ambushed? That can’t possibly be my brother. I’m sitting here and I’m trying to be still and collected but I can’t. I've been tapping my pen on the table at the station for a long time. It feels like hours. Nobody’s here with me, they’re all on the street. 

It reaches 5:15 and I can’t sit here any longer. I get in my marked patrol unit and drive in circles. It takes me 8 minutes to get to the coffee shop. I park at 5:45 and sit in my car. I’m staring at the cars passing and the expired registrations and inspections and other violations I would have pulled them over for. But I’m not moving from this spot in case it is my brother.  I can’t run the risk of being late. 

“2249,” I say over the radio. 

“Go ahead,” the dispatcher responds. 

“2249, I’ll be out talking with one at Little Native Cafe.” 

“2243, can you respond with 2249?”

“You can cancel back up.” 

I’m sitting in my car for 15 minutes before another car pulls into the parking lot. The tint on the front windows is so dark I can’t see inside. I’m watching intently, waiting for the car door to open. Finally, it does. The man getting out of the car is facing away from me. He has long hair. My brother, Dylan, had short hair my whole life. His long sleeve shirt is fitted but Dylan would’ve chosen loose fitting shirts instead. 

The man turns around and he looks like my brother but there’s something different. I get out of the car and survey him a minute longer. 

“Leah,” he says softly. 

“You don’t know me,” I get defensive. “Who are you?” I continue. 

He’s patient and just pulls up his long sleeves, exposing his easily identifiable tattoos. The realization sets in and my eyes fill with tears. I’m getting choked up. 

“I’m sorry, Leah - I’m so sorry.” 

“I can’t believe you. What did you do?” I want to scream or cry or be angry but I can’t. I’m seeing my brother. With my own eyes again. I feel sick and I’m overwhelmed with emotion. 

“I didn’t have a choice,” Dylan admits. “I would’ve never put you through that.” He reaches for my arm and keeps his hand on my forearm. “Leah, I loved you and my son so much. I did what I had to.” 

“Do you realize how crazy you sound? How did faking your own death prove how much you loved us?”

“Leah, lower your voice. I was in a gang,” he admits again. 

“I’m aware.”

“I did some people dirty. I was a stupid 19 year old. I had dues to pay. And they gave me an ultimatum and I chose what I chose but I’m here.” 

“You’re crazy.”

“And you and Junior are alive, so.” 

There’s a long moment of silence. 

“And I’m alive!” Dylan affirms. 

I’m still caught off guard. I don’t know what is going on. This has got to be a dream. There’s no way it’s not. 

“So can you tell me what happened one more time?” I plea. 

He sighs deep. “I was in a gang like a decade ago. And I did stuff.” 

“What stuff?” 

He shakes his head no, “and I owed some people some money. Don’t ask about the people. But anyway.” 

He spends 20 minutes elaborating on details about people who threatened to do awful things to me and to Dylan’s son, how he sacrificed years and safety for him and I. I never thought it was this deep. 

“I didn’t know. I was so hurt. We were all devastated. Are devastated.” 

Dylan puts his arm on my shoulder and leans on me like he used to. He leans on my mic and accidentally keys up. 

“2249, no verbal,” the dispatcher says. 

I laugh. “2249, I’m 10-4.” 

“10-4.”

“I didn’t have a choice. I need you to know that.” 

“So what now?” I ask. I’m not sure what answer I’m expecting or what information I can get. 

“Well.” He pauses and I can see the pain come into his face. “Nobody can know we had this conversation but I wanted you to know I was alive. I’ll be in touch when I can.” 

“So that’s it? I have to pretend I didn’t talk with my dead brother?” I bark at him. I’m wounded. I don’t understand. 

“Nooo, you don’t have to pretend you didn’t talk with your dead brother. You have to pretend you didn’t talk with your alive brother.” He claps his hands together and shrugs. “I’ll talk to you when I can. I have to keep a low profile.”

“You have a car. You’re not keeping a low profile.” 

“It’s not registered to me. Leah, I’m sorry. Okay? I don’t want to do this.”

He hugs me and stares at me for a minute longer. “You look so sad.” 

“Please don’t go.” I see tears start to form again. He tells me he loves me and gets back in his car. 

It feels like I’m losing him all over again.