Thursday, September 29, 2011

Still at The Edge

The cop cars were on my street yesterday. I am partly used to this because of Carlos and his family, and also because they film TV shows and movies around the corner, but it's still weird to hear the Weep Woop of the siren and some guy talking through a megaphone type speaker ten feet in front of my house. I was coming up the hill from walking the dogs and Harry was on the sidewalk with his skate board. He was standing still, watching with one foot on the board.
What's going on?
Someone was screaming.
Before the cops got here or after?
Who was it?
A girl.
Let's go inside.
We saw Michelle, our neighbor, on the way in. I think they're here for Eddie, I said.
That's what I thought, she said.
He'd pretty much been drinking for a month straight, starting at 7 in the morning where he'd sit on the curb all day until it was just him and the streetlights.We all scrambled up the stairs and walked into the living room to the window, like people hurrying to get to their seats before a show.
Two cops escorted Eddie into the street. He was shirtless and handcuffed. No one came out with him, not his mom or his father or any of his brothers. The cops told him to step out of his shoes, they were corduroy slip-ons, and as he tried to kick them off, he leaned to the side almost toppling over.
Why are they making him take his shoes off?
I don't know.
One of the cops unhandcuffed him and told him to put his hands on his head. Eddie did as he was told staring straight ahead with his lips pursed. His face was frozen, expressionless. It was weird how quiet everything was. I could hear a woman's nasal voice from inside the cop car announcing other crimes and then the tweet of the radio.
One cop started to examine the shoes, like there might be something hidden in there, while another cop started frisking Eddie.
We watched from the window with the curtain pulled back. Eddie was like a statue. He didn't seem angry or sad or humiliated. He didn't even seem stunned. It seemed like he was no longer in his body.
Is he going to jail?
I don't think so.
Why is the cop frisking him?
Maybe it's the procedure.
Is he doing something bad?
I don't think so.
I had never watched anyone getting frisked before and was surprised by the intimacy. The cop even put his hand under Eddie's big belly while Eddie just stared ahead at nothing. We all whispered questions to each other, huddling behind the curtain. What did he do? Who called the cops? Where is the girl? Was that his mother screaming? None of us knew anything except that, judging from Eddie's stillness, he still hadn't snapped yet.

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