My first thought was Somebody better be fucking dead. My mom has gotten better now, but in the past she's called me as early at 7 am, just to chat. As she gets older, she gets up earlier and earlier. I imagine it has something to getting older, as the the mind goes, so goes the rationale behind sleeping past 5 am. The day is wasted! After my sister and I have pleaded, often, that there are times when we don't go to sleep until 4 or 5, she's learned not to call us until at least 9 am.
Until yesterday, when it rang at 4:37. I was by myself, because Initials felt as though he'd been gone too long from his cat, and if she doesn't get enough attention she has a habit of throwing up on his shoes. I didn't stay at his place because I'm moving on the 15th, and still have some paperwork to drop off and some cleaning to get started.
I flipped open my phone and muttered, half-heartedly, "What."
"Bob-someone-just-broke-into-our-house-and-I-can't-get-ahold-of-your-father."
"What?" Now I was paying more attention, but still waking up. I sat up in bed now.
"Slow down, what's going on?"
"The police-are-here and your father-isn't-answering his cell-phone. Do you-know-where-he's-staying?"
"Yeah, he's staying at the XXXXX-XXX." He's in town this week, at a work conference. He's at a hotel just a few blocks away from me. It had worked out conveniently, because he brought the van and I was going to use it in the evenings to help me move the heavier stuff. I'm only moving a block away, but I'd still rather not carry a bookshelf or a television that far if I can help it.
"Do you know his number there? He's not-picking-up-his-cell. The police-are-here-and-I-can't....answer all-the-questions."
"Yeah, give me a second and I can google it." I have the fastest speed internet connection of anyone in my family, and my mom's talents aren't much more than checking her email six or seven times a day.
While I was googling, she told me what had happened. Someone had stolen a shovel that we had left on our front porch, gone around to the back of the house, and smashed a window while trying to enter. As he was crawling inside the house, he hit something accidentally, which knocked over the microwave and the microwave stand, which resulted in a huge smash that woke up the entire house. My mother was already up and leaving the bathroom and was able to see a black figure tripping over the windowsill while making his escape, dropping his lighter and tearing his jeans a little bit.
The police found fibers from the jeans, and he dropped a lighter but it fell in water because it was raining, so the police doubt they'll find any prints. There are some footprints in our neighbors yard, and the people on the other side of his place had their car vandalized.
I found the number online, and gave it to her. She hung up and gave him a surprising wake-up call, and then he started to drive off back for home.
And now, everyone is on edge. Everyone feels violated, even I do, and I was nowhere near the place. The rest of the day I was just listless. I chain-bolted the apartment door. I wasn't able to get back to sleep, but just stayed in bed, rewatching the Simpsons movie over and over, with and without director's commentary, until one, when I went to the bathroom. I didn't want to get dressed. I didn't want lunch. I didn't want to mess with moving. I just didn't want to do anything. It sucked. It still sucks.
