Protect & Serve

The police officer adjusts his badge over his savior complex and approaches the car. He sees the female driver's reflection in the side mirror. She reminds him of his sister. They all do. 

"Is there anything wrong, Miss?" He tilts his head for a better look. Her eyes are red rimmed and tired.

"My car broke down. I'm waiting for a friend to come get me." Her tone matches her eyes.

"Alright," the officer replies, "Any idea what happened? Maybe it's something I can help with."

"I don't know. It just died," the woman says.

"Why don't you pop the hood? Maybe I can figure it out.” He smiles at her kindly. “I'm good with cars." He is concerned by the way she keeps glancing behind her and looking at her watch.

She shrugs. "Don't worry about it. I'll get my brother to look at it. He's good with cars too."

The officer notices a slight change in her tone and a tenseness in her face. He's become quite good at knowing when someone is lying.

"How long until your friend gets here?" he asks.

"I don't know, a while I guess." her voice is apathetic, as broken down as the car.

"Well, I can wait with you. I'll just call in to let dispatch know where I am." He smiles at her again.  The young woman sighs deeply and lets her head drop back against the headrest, closing her eyes. He hopes his presence helps her feel safe.

After getting clearance from dispatch, he returns. Her eyes fly open and he recognizes a flash of panic. "It's ok. It's just me. Didn't mean to startle you.” He sticks his hand out in greeting. “Since we're going to be here for a while waiting for your friend, I'm Sgt. Williams, but everyone calls me Willie." 

She takes his hand for the briefest moment, "I'm Mara."

He resists the urge to wipe her sweat from his hand and puts on his most reassuring smile. His senses tell him something is wrong. She needs saving. They're not all your sister, he silently reminds himself. 

"You really don't need to stay. I'm fine. I could use a nap." She offers a weak smile.

Willie suspects her last statement is the first fully true thing she has said to him. He shakes his head. "I don't like leaving you here by yourself. Sun's going down soon." He stifles all the warnings of danger for a female after dark.

"I like being by myself.” The tightness is back in her face and her eyes dart between the rearview mirror and her watch.

Willie's inner alarms grow louder, but he gives himself a reality check - people always get nervous with police officers. He turns to watch the traffic on the highway, wondering how to convince her to let him help.

After 10 minutes, Willie glances over at Mara. Her eyes are closed. He’s glad she's getting some rest with him there to protect her. He realizes how much younger she looks now with her face relaxed, maybe early twenties. The dark circles under her eyes make her look older, more than just tired, broken and beaten down. Her heart-shaped face and thin, pale pink lips remind him of his sister. The resemblance would be stronger if her hair wasn’t dyed black. She shifts her head in her sleep and a small purr-like snore escapes her lips. Willie flashes back 17 years and 1700 miles away. 

His little sister had fallen from the playground slide. She was bleeding and crying. He carried her across the ball fields and through their back gate saying over and over, "It's Ok Molly. I'm taking you home." After mom had cleaned and bandaged the gash on her arm and scrapes on her legs, she had fallen asleep on the couch. He had watched her sleeping secure in the knowledge that he was her protector, her rescuer. 

Shaking his head, he chides himself.  In his mind every young woman looks like his sister and every one of them needs saving. But he knows from experience that it isn't true. He just needs to focus on his duty.

The woman suddenly sits up, eyes wide, looking around.

"Hey, hey,” Willie says gently, “it’s ok. "I'm still here keeping an eye out for your friend. You're safe." She sits back and he says, "Bad dream?"

"Yeah, bad dream," she mumbles, looking away from him to the cars on the turnpike.

All his instincts tell him to stay with her, keep her safe, but she clearly wants him to leave her alone. Fighting his impulses, he says, "I can go sit in my car if you'd prefer. I'll let you sleep and just stay to ensure your safety until your friend arrives."

"You should just go. I'll be fine. There's no need to watch over me." Mara gives him a smile that looks more like a wince.

"Miss, my job is to protect and serve, so watching over you is my duty. I'll just go make out a tag so your car doesn't get impounded after you get picked up. Then I will wait in my vehicle," with a smile and a nod he turns and walks back to his police car. Outwardly calm, his insides vibrate with the need to save her.  From what?  He doesn't know.

The officer begins to fill out the tag and types the license plate into his computer. He realizes he needs to know if she's going to have the car towed, so he returns to her.

"When do you expect to have someone come look at the car or will you be having it towed?" he asks in his most professional tone. He keeps his focus on the form he is filling out.

Mara stares blankly at him, "Um, I'm not sure... it depends." She's silent for a moment. "It should be gone by morning. Do you really need a specific time?" There is an edge to her voice. Willie wonders if it’s fear or defensiveness.

"No, just trying to save you some trouble like I hope someone would do for my sister in the same situation. If there's no details about when it will be picked up, your car will be impounded and you'll have to pay to get it back." Willie is still keeping his eyes down.  He doesn’t want anymore flashbacks to his sister and his failure to save her.

"Well, I'm not your sister and the car will be gone by morning. Really. Don't worry about it.”  Her jaw is tight, teeth clenched.

Willie nods, "Ok, thank you." He jogs back to his car, trying to outrun his protective instincts. He drops into the driver's seat and glances at his computer. The car is registered to George Sullivan. What a strange coincidence. Growing up he had a neighbor with that name, real nice, always friendly to the neighborhood kids.  That was years ago in Texas, a long way from the Connecticut Turnpike. Could it be the same man? Is Mara related to him? The George Sullivan he had known was 30-ish and single. Willie didn’t remember ever seeing any family visit him. He had moved out of state the summer Willie's sister had run away. 

Runaway, that's how she was listed. She was 9, when she packed her teddy bear in her little suitcase and left. Mom and Dad said it was all an act for attention. Molly could be dramatic when she didn't get her way. When she didn’t come home by sundown, they looked in her usual spots and at her friends' houses. The neighbors searched. The police investigated. Her picture was on the news. But she never came home. Runaway, they said. Willie is lost in regret and shame. His sister was five years younger and he was her protector, until that day. That day he thought she was being a brat and he ignored her.  That was all it took. 

She is gone. His guilt remains. Willie pulls himself back to the present with a deep breath and swallows the lump in his throat. He has a few questions he needs to ask. 

"Miss, your license plate comes up as registered to a George Sullivan."

"Oh no, you didn't contact him, did you? You didn't tell him where I am," Her voice is high pitched. Her eyes are no longer tired; they are alert and looking frantically for an escape.

"No, it's ok. Are you afraid of him? Has he hurt you? I can protect you, get you somewhere safe."

"I'm - I’m not afraid of him. I just don’t want him to know anything is wrong with his car until I can get it fixed." She is still on high alert.

In an effort to calm her, he says, "I only mentioned the name because I knew a man named George Sullivan many years ago. He was a neighbor when I was a kid in Texas. I just wondered if it was the same man and maybe you were a relative. It's not likely I guess, but I thought it was an odd coincidence, that's all."

Mara stares at him. Her eyes are still wide in fear, but there's something else. She scans his face and locks eyes with him. He holds still and waits, hoping she will choose to trust him. Slowly, she says, "What did you say your name is?"

"Well, everyone calls me Willie, because my last name is Williams, but my first name is Vincent. Vincent Allan Williams. Only my Mom calls me that. I've been called Willie since I was at the academy. Everyone was called by their last names and there was already another Williams.  Common name." He knows he is saying too much, but the way Mara is looking at him is making him nervous.

Her eyes have narrowed and her expression has shifted to what he thinks is disgust. He takes a breath and forces himself to stop talking. Mara takes a deep breath at the same time and leans forward resting her arms on the steering wheel. Her sleeve slides up, revealing a curved scar just above her elbow. Stunned, Willie whispers, "Where did you get that scar?" He can barely breathe. He prays she heard him because he may not be able to ask again.

"Falling from a slide when I was really little," she says, putting her head on her arms.

Willie can’t see her face but he hears the tears in her voice. His head is spinning and he has to take a knee. Could this possibly be his sister? His little Molly? Here? After all these years? He reaches out and touches the scar. "I remember," he says. She flinches at his touch and turns to look at him. Tears flow down her cheeks. Willie breaks down looking into the eyes and face of his little sister who needs her big brother to rescue her. "Molly?" The name comes out as a strangled sob. He hasn't spoken it in many years, but prays it silently every day.

"I'm not Molly anymore. He changed me to Mara and that's who I've been for 15 years."

Opening the car door, he takes her hand and she steps out. "You are Molly Williams, my little sister. The same Molly I carried home after you fell off the slide." He touches the scar again and this time she doesn't flinch. She looks up at him and he sees the first glimmer of hope shine in her tear-filled eyes.. 

"Vinnie... Vinnie." She calls him by his childhood nickname. She is shaking and her knees buckle. Willie catches her and lifts her in his arms. "It's Ok Molly,” he says, “I'm taking you home."