“9 1 1, what’s the address of your emergency?” the call taker asked as he casually answered the phone.
“Sam? Samantha?” a nervous voice asked in whispered tones.
“9 1 1, what’s the address of your emergency?” the call taker asked again, growing a bit impatient. It was well after midnight, and the phones had been slow this evening, but the call taker was pulling a double and had been at work for over 12 hours. He was not in the mood for a prank call.
“I’m lookin’ for Sam Vickers,” the voice trembled.
The call taker grunted, “This is 9 1 1. Do you have an emergency?”
“Sam Vickers?” the voice whispered.
The call taker rolled his eyes and muted his phone. Leaning back in his chair to round the wall of his tiny cubicle, he yelled down the way toward his supervisor. “Someone on 9 1 1 is asking for you, Sam.”
Samantha stepped into a vacant cubicle and plugged in her headset. “9 1 1, what’s the address of your emergency?”
“I’m lookin’ for Sam.”
“You found her. What’s the address of your emergency?”
“Ain’t got no ‘mergency. I’m lookin’ for Sam, baby girl’s mom.”
Sam froze, her mind and body stiff. She became acutely aware of every sound around her as they muted into background noise and her vision narrowed to one pinpoint spot on the shelf in the cubicle. As the world around her shrunk down to the one word “preparedness”, Sam felt her knees collapse, and she fortunately caught herself in the swivel chair before hitting the ground.
“Who is this?” Samantha asked hoarsely.
“You baby, uh, Bethany’s mom?” the voice asked.
“Who is this?” Samantha demanded loudly, feeling the stiffness in her body ease as she rehearsed the de-escalation skills needed in high crisis situations. She had taken extremely stressful calls before and not felt as helpless as she did right now. Hearing her daughter’s name sucked everything out of her almost immediately. To refocus her attention, she began regulating her breathing; she waited for the voice to answer.
“Yes, this is Bethany’s mom,” she said more calmly.
“I had no other way to reach you. I jus’ ‘member you take the 9 1 1 calls.”
Samantha wanted answers; she felt desperate to ask all the questions rapidly spilling into her mind. The voice on the other end of the phone was female and a bit hoarse, and Samantha played through the photo album of Bethany’s friends.
“What’s your name?” Samantha asked, almost pleading.
“My name is Sharmeka. Your baby girl and I were friends for a minute back in the day. I just got myself clean ‘bout six months ago and try’na make ‘mends.”
Her breathing settled, Samantha glanced back at the spot on the shelf and felt grateful she could now read the whole book title “Emergency Preparedness”. She glanced around the cubicle filled space of the communications warehouse and found that could reach beyond her immediate senses again.
“Lemme give you the non-emergency number. Can you call me back? Or, should I call you back? We are on a recorded line.”
Samantha heard rustling through the phone, and the voice responded, “Oh, sorry. I had no numbers. I can call you back. I got me a cell. I found a pen.”
Samantha gave the caller her personal cell number and disconnected the call. “Hey Ramon, thanks for catching that call. I need to step off the floor for a few.”
“No problemo,” he waved. Samantha took out her personal cell as it began to vibrate and left the communications floor through a side door. She had stepped into the cool night air into a self-contained and secure courtyard for the communications personnel. It was located in the center of the complex and could only be accessed through security doors. Although secured, it was one of the only areas in the complex without video monitoring, a fact she was grateful for now.
“I’m sorry calling you at work,” the girl continued as Samantha answered her phone.
“It’s ok,” Samantha assured her. “You said your name was Sharmeka?”
“Yea, Sharmeka Reynolds. Me and baby gi, um, Bethany knew each other back in the day.”
Because Samantha didn’t recognize the name, she deduced that Sharmeka must have come into Bethany’s life sometime in the last six to nine months before Bethany’s death.
“I did some time in county lockup last year, and that was the first time I’d been clean since I was maybe twelve. It changed me. It was pretty hard, but I got to thinkin’ ‘bout baby girl, uh, ‘bout your daughter.”
“How did you meet Bethany?” Samantha asked although she already knew the answer.
Sharmeka just grunted, “You’s know we met on the streets. I means no disrespect to you and all, but that was pretty stupid to ask.”
Realizing that she might not have much time on the phone, Samantha shifted tactics. “I’m sorry for that, Sharmeka. I’m glad you are clean, and I guess you need to talk to me about something important.”
“Yea, yea, I do. When I finally got outta county, I got back to the place I’d been stayin’ and noticed I had a suitcase belonged to your daughter. I’ve been try’na get it back to you for a while, but ever time I lose my nerve.”
“What changed tonight?”
“I”ve tried a few times before, but you’s never on then. Todays when I called, the lady said you’s working tonight.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you. Would you like to meet me?” Samantha asked.
“That was the reason I called.”
“I don’t get off here until three, about a couple hours from now. Or, we can meet sometime tomorrow afternoon?
“Nahs, I’ll be up at three.”
“Ok. What part of town you staying in?”
“I gots a nice place now, over on the west side, not too far from that old processing plant. It’s not the best part of town, but the complex is gated and clean.”
Samantha thought about the location for a second, and responded, “There is a 24 hour diner near there, on the corner of Reed and Beltran. Do you know it?”
“Sure. I goes there sometimes.”
“Great. Why don’t I meet you there about 3:15?”
“Sure. I’ll be there.”
When Samantha pulled into the parking lot, she noted the police cruisers backed in at the end of the row. There were only two other cars in the lot. She had met Bethany here several times during the course of Bethany’s drug addiction, and nothing looked different all this time later. She checked her bag for the pepper spray, smoothed down her hair and checked her makeup in the tiny mirror on the visor before she exited her car. For a woman who was known as the “Steel Rod” at work, she felt like congealed gelatin as she made her way through the front door. She glanced around the diner quickly taking a mental snapshot of all the occupants. She laid her eyes on the group of four officers all sitting with their backs to the wall facing the door. She nodded her head to one as she caught her attention. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she recognized him. Officers and dispatchers rarely interacted other than through a phone or radio, so she didn’t know many of the officers by sight.
On the other side of the diner sitting alone was a lanky and thin African American woman Samantha guessed to be about thirty years old. When the woman stood and waved at her, Samantha knew she had found Sharmeka Reynolds. Anxious to get the meeting over, Samantha’s gaze fell on the familiar suitcase sitting on the chair next to Sharmeka. “Thanks for meeting me,” Samantha began. Before she could step back, Samantha found herself in an embrace, and Sharmeka said, “It’s so good to meet you.”
Embarrassed, Samantha found herself in an awkward attempt to hug the woman and extract herself gracefully.
“Sorry, sorry,” Samantha said as she fumbled to sit down.
“Nahs; I’m a hugger. Always have been. You remind me of Bethany ‘cause she never knew how to hug people either. I always figured it was from being on the street, but she would say to me, ‘Meeks, I have never been one to hug another”. I always thought that funny,” Sharmeka said as she tried to imitate a serious tone.
“That would so be Bethany,” Samantha said fondly. For an instant, her mind replayed a similar scene in her mind, and Samantha felt her face flush. The tears rushed to the surface hotly, rudely, and Samantha had to take breath to keep from crying. A very tired looking woman in her late 50s or early 60s stepped toward them and asked, “What can I get ya?” Samantha gestured toward Sharmeka. When Sharmeka shook her head, Samantha said, “My treat.” Once they had ordered and the waitress left, Sharmeka pointed toward the battered suitcase in the chair between them.
“This look familiar?” she asked.
“Come on, Bethany,” Sam called. “Come help me paste the pictures on your suitcase.” Bethany was only six years old and had seen a decoupaged suitcase in a magazine. She had squealed with delight and begged her mother to get her one. “I can put all my ballerina stuff in it,” Bethany had sang. “It will be my forever treasure chest.”
Samantha ran her hand across the smooth surface, lightly touching each of the delicate pictures glued in place. The pictures had been cut from magazines by her precious little girl. Samantha rested her hand on the jagged edge of butterfly and could not stop her tears this time.
“When Bethany was only six, she begged me to get her a decoupaged case like this one she had seen in a magazine. She cut out most of this pictures herself.” Sharmeka reached out and rested her hand on Samantha’s.
“I miss her, too. I used her death for a long time as an excuse to keep using. But when I was locked up, I learned that doing that dishonored her. Bethany saved my life.”
“Sam? Samantha?” a nervous voice asked in whispered tones.
“9 1 1, what’s the address of your emergency?” the call taker asked again, growing a bit impatient. It was well after midnight, and the phones had been slow this evening, but the call taker was pulling a double and had been at work for over 12 hours. He was not in the mood for a prank call.
“I’m lookin’ for Sam Vickers,” the voice trembled.
The call taker grunted, “This is 9 1 1. Do you have an emergency?”
“Sam Vickers?” the voice whispered.
The call taker rolled his eyes and muted his phone. Leaning back in his chair to round the wall of his tiny cubicle, he yelled down the way toward his supervisor. “Someone on 9 1 1 is asking for you, Sam.”
Samantha stepped into a vacant cubicle and plugged in her headset. “9 1 1, what’s the address of your emergency?”
“I’m lookin’ for Sam.”
“You found her. What’s the address of your emergency?”
“Ain’t got no ‘mergency. I’m lookin’ for Sam, baby girl’s mom.”
Sam froze, her mind and body stiff. She became acutely aware of every sound around her as they muted into background noise and her vision narrowed to one pinpoint spot on the shelf in the cubicle. As the world around her shrunk down to the one word “preparedness”, Sam felt her knees collapse, and she fortunately caught herself in the swivel chair before hitting the ground.
“Who is this?” Samantha asked hoarsely.
“You baby, uh, Bethany’s mom?” the voice asked.
“Who is this?” Samantha demanded loudly, feeling the stiffness in her body ease as she rehearsed the de-escalation skills needed in high crisis situations. She had taken extremely stressful calls before and not felt as helpless as she did right now. Hearing her daughter’s name sucked everything out of her almost immediately. To refocus her attention, she began regulating her breathing; she waited for the voice to answer.
“Yes, this is Bethany’s mom,” she said more calmly.
“I had no other way to reach you. I jus’ ‘member you take the 9 1 1 calls.”
Samantha wanted answers; she felt desperate to ask all the questions rapidly spilling into her mind. The voice on the other end of the phone was female and a bit hoarse, and Samantha played through the photo album of Bethany’s friends.
“What’s your name?” Samantha asked, almost pleading.
“My name is Sharmeka. Your baby girl and I were friends for a minute back in the day. I just got myself clean ‘bout six months ago and try’na make ‘mends.”
Her breathing settled, Samantha glanced back at the spot on the shelf and felt grateful she could now read the whole book title “Emergency Preparedness”. She glanced around the cubicle filled space of the communications warehouse and found that could reach beyond her immediate senses again.
“Lemme give you the non-emergency number. Can you call me back? Or, should I call you back? We are on a recorded line.”
Samantha heard rustling through the phone, and the voice responded, “Oh, sorry. I had no numbers. I can call you back. I got me a cell. I found a pen.”
Samantha gave the caller her personal cell number and disconnected the call. “Hey Ramon, thanks for catching that call. I need to step off the floor for a few.”
“I’m sorry calling you at work,” the girl continued as Samantha answered her phone.
“It’s ok,” Samantha assured her. “You said your name was Sharmeka?”
“Yea, Sharmeka Reynolds. Me and baby gi, um, Bethany knew each other back in the day.”
Because Samantha didn’t recognize the name, she deduced that Sharmeka must have come into Bethany’s life sometime in the last six to nine months before Bethany’s death.
“I did some time in county lockup last year, and that was the first time I’d been clean since I was maybe twelve. It changed me. It was pretty hard, but I got to thinkin’ ‘bout baby girl, uh, ‘bout your daughter.”
“How did you meet Bethany?” Samantha asked although she already knew the answer.
Sharmeka just grunted, “You’s know we met on the streets. I means no disrespect to you and all, but that was pretty stupid to ask.”
Realizing that she might not have much time on the phone, Samantha shifted tactics. “I’m sorry for that, Sharmeka. I’m glad you are clean, and I guess you need to talk to me about something important.”
“Yea, yea, I do. When I finally got outta county, I got back to the place I’d been stayin’ and noticed I had a suitcase belonged to your daughter. I’ve been try’na get it back to you for a while, but ever time I lose my nerve.”
“What changed tonight?”
“I”ve tried a few times before, but you’s never on then. Todays when I called, the lady said you’s working tonight.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you. Would you like to meet me?” Samantha asked.
“That was the reason I called.”
“I don’t get off here until three, about a couple hours from now. Or, we can meet sometime tomorrow afternoon?
“Nahs, I’ll be up at three.”
“Ok. What part of town you staying in?”
“I gots a nice place now, over on the west side, not too far from that old processing plant. It’s not the best part of town, but the complex is gated and clean.”
Samantha thought about the location for a second, and responded, “There is a 24 hour diner near there, on the corner of Reed and Beltran. Do you know it?”
“Sure. I goes there sometimes.”
“Great. Why don’t I meet you there about 3:15?”
“Sure. I’ll be there.”
When Samantha pulled into the parking lot, she noted the police cruisers backed in at the end of the row. There were only two other cars in the lot. She had met Bethany here several times during the course of Bethany’s drug addiction, and nothing looked different all this time later. She checked her bag for the pepper spray, smoothed down her hair and checked her makeup in the tiny mirror on the visor before she exited her car. For a woman who was known as the “Steel Rod” at work, she felt like congealed gelatin as she made her way through the front door. She glanced around the diner quickly taking a mental snapshot of all the occupants. She laid her eyes on the group of four officers all sitting with their backs to the wall facing the door. She nodded her head to one as she caught her attention. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she recognized him. Officers and dispatchers rarely interacted other than through a phone or radio, so she didn’t know many of the officers by sight.
On the other side of the diner sitting alone was a lanky and thin African American woman Samantha guessed to be about thirty years old. When the woman stood and waved at her, Samantha knew she had found Sharmeka Reynolds. Anxious to get the meeting over, Samantha’s gaze fell on the familiar suitcase sitting on the chair next to Sharmeka. “Thanks for meeting me,” Samantha began. Before she could step back, Samantha found herself in an embrace, and Sharmeka said, “It’s so good to meet you.”
Embarrassed, Samantha found herself in an awkward attempt to hug the woman and extract herself gracefully.
“Sorry, sorry,” Samantha said as she fumbled to sit down.
“Nahs; I’m a hugger. Always have been. You remind me of Bethany ‘cause she never knew how to hug people either. I always figured it was from being on the street, but she would say to me, ‘Meeks, I have never been one to hug another”. I always thought that funny,” Sharmeka said as she tried to imitate a serious tone.
“That would so be Bethany,” Samantha said fondly. For an instant, her mind replayed a similar scene in her mind, and Samantha felt her face flush. The tears rushed to the surface hotly, rudely, and Samantha had to take breath to keep from crying. A very tired looking woman in her late 50s or early 60s stepped toward them and asked, “What can I get ya?” Samantha gestured toward Sharmeka. When Sharmeka shook her head, Samantha said, “My treat.” Once they had ordered and the waitress left, Sharmeka pointed toward the battered suitcase in the chair between them.
“This look familiar?” she asked.
“Come on, Bethany,” Sam called. “Come help me paste the pictures on your suitcase.” Bethany was only six years old and had seen a decoupaged suitcase in a magazine. She had squealed with delight and begged her mother to get her one. “I can put all my ballerina stuff in it,” Bethany had sang. “It will be my forever treasure chest.”
Samantha ran her hand across the smooth surface, lightly touching each of the delicate pictures glued in place. The pictures had been cut from magazines by her precious little girl. Samantha rested her hand on the jagged edge of butterfly and could not stop her tears this time.
“When Bethany was only six, she begged me to get her a decoupaged case like this one she had seen in a magazine. She cut out most of this pictures herself.” Sharmeka reached out and rested her hand on Samantha’s.
“I miss her, too. I used her death for a long time as an excuse to keep using. But when I was locked up, I learned that doing that dishonored her. Bethany saved my life.”
I Love it, you know I am a avid reader, and it immediately caught my attention, Cant wait for the rest of it!!!!!!!
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