A visit from the police

We had a visit from the police this evening, and I want to write down what happened while it is still clear in my mind. 

 

[Already this evening I have sent this story, minus a little editing, to my father, my brother, and D.]

 

It all started – so far as I can tell – because of dinner.  We got home from the Shakespeare Festival about 6:30 pm, and of course nobody had been here over the weekend to do any shopping or to plan dinner.  I offered that this was no problem because I had one meal left over in the refrigerator.  So we all unpacked our bags from the trip.  The meal I had left over was a cauliflower-and-tomato dish I had prepared last week before leaving for the Festival.  I remembered that Son 1 hadn't liked it much, but there was enough to feed everybody so long as I made a starch to dish it over; so I decided to make up a starch that would appeal to anybody in the crowd who didn't like the cauliflower.  I made a big pot of spaghetti.  Then in a separate pan I cooked up about a pound of bacon (cut into little pieces) and a huge onion (itself the better part of a pound) … diced and with plentiful garlic added as well.  When I poured the water off the spaghetti I added the bacon-onion-garlic mixture, added a cup of parmesan cheese, and stirred it all in with the noodles.  Then I called everyone to the table, saying, "Take a plate, dish yourself up some noodles, dish up some vegetables on top of them, and have a seat."

 

We went through dinner uneventfully.  Son 1 took lots of noodles and just a bit of vegetables; he told me he loved the noodles.  Son 2 said, "Cauliflower! Hooray!" and dished up plenty of both.  (He also went and got seconds on both.)  Wife took just a little bit and then sat at the table motionless and stared straight ahead.  She did not eat.  The boys and I talked about silly stuff for a while, and dinner seemed to be moving along just fine.  Then Wife announced, "I have to eat more protein than this before I go to bed."  It was phrased as a plaint, where I couldn't rightly tell if it was a statement or a request for permission.  I looked at her a little puzzled and reminded her that she's a grownup and doesn't need to ask permission if she wants something else for dinner.  She retorted something (I don't remember what) and the boys chimed in to the effect of, "Fine, Mom, whatever. Go get something else if you want."  So she got up, dumped her dinner down the sink, and started rummaging in the kitchen for some cottage cheese.  We are out of cottage cheese but I reminded her that we have eggs, so she scrambled herself a couple of eggs and ate those.  Then she sat sullenly and stared at the table.

 

The boys were still having fun with some topic, ricocheting off each other, but I commented to Wife that she looked very tired.  She agreed she was.  I continued that if she was really so tired she had to go to bed, everybody would understand.  She got up from the table, then said that she needed somebody to help her get her box of medications down from the shelf in the closet in the study.  I got up and joined her in the study, and we got down her box of meds.

 

While I was there, I closed the door because I wanted to talk to her without involving the boys and I said, "I know you didn't like dinner, but blaming it on your need for protein was a lie.  You had a great big three-egg omelet with cheese and other fillings for breakfast and lunch, which means you have already had lots of protein today.  What is more, your so-called need for a certain amount of protein is a pretty elastic thing, because I have seen any number of days where you have eaten junk all day and hardly any protein.  So I want *you* to understand that *I* understand that your claims about how much protein you need are just an excuse you pull out when you want to blame somebody else for what they have cooked.  And I would rather you not hide behind your health as an excuse, and just admit you don't like something."

 

This provoked a torrent of replies.  Partly she insisted that she really does eat protein at every single meal (which is absurd).  And partly she hurled a torrent of vitriol at me for "all that vegetarian shit you have been cooking lately!"  The conversation went on far longer than it should have or needed to, growing to include everything she could think of to hate about me … which seems to have been a long list.  Anyway, finally she brought it back around again to the question of food and cooking, and insisted that the boys hate everything I cook just as much as she does.  As you know, I have asked her to keep them out of our fights. 

 

She replied, "I know you don't want me speaking for the boys, but they really do hate all this vegetarian shit you keep cooking! I'll go ask them right now!"

 

I happened to be standing between her and the door at that point, and I repeated, "No, please keep them out of our argument."

 

At that point she suddenly changed direction and cried out, "You're blocking my exit from the room! That's kidnapping and it's a crime!"

 

I should have been stunned at the non sequitur, but in fact she has lobbed this kind of verbal grenade at me before.  I don't remember my exact words, but I said something like, "Oh for Pete's sake, I'm not kidnapping you. Sheesh, if you really believed that you'd call the police."

 

And so she walked over to the telephone and dialed 9-1-1.

 

This was completely nuts, so I rolled my eyes, shrugged, and left the study to see what the boys were doing.  They had both finished eating, had cleared their dishes from the table, and were rolling around on the floor playing.  A minute later she came out of the study and then the phone rang.  I picked it up.

 

"Good evening, may I help you?"

 

"Hello, this is the 9-1-1 operator.  Is there any trouble at your location?"

 

"Ummm, … no, I don't think so."

 

"Well I was just talking to a female voice who called us and then hung up. Is there a female there?"

 

"There's my wife. Would you like to talk to her?"

 

"Yes please."

 

I turned around to Wife who had come into the room, and asked her "Could you please pick up the other line?"

 

She went back into the study, picked up the phone, and I hung up my end.  She had left the study door wide open, so when I walked back that direction to see what was up I heard her saying, "Yes he always locks me into rooms …. No I don't think I'm in any danger tonight …. yes .… no ….  OK, good bye."

 

I asked her, "What's up?"

 

"They said they have to send someone out here to check up on us."

 

And sure enough a few minutes later there was a knock on the door.  By this time the boys were in the living room, so they jumped up to get it.  When they opened the door, there were two policemen standing there, one shining his flashlight into the house. 

 

I walked up and asked (again) "Can I help you?"

 

The first policeman asked, "Are you the man of the house?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Could you please step out here for a moment?"

 

So I stepped out onto the front yard to talk to the first policeman while his partner went inside.  He left the front door open, but I asked him please to watch that the cats didn't escape and so he closed the screen door.

 

The first policeman started by asking my name: I gave it to him and then handed him my driver's license to simplify the whole process of determining who I am.  He asked me what had happened, and I spelled out exactly the story I just described above.  He asked a couple questions in the process of my spelling this all out.  Meantime I heard the voice of his partner and Wife's voice mumbling a conversation inside.

 

Then he asked, "Is there any history of domestic violence?"

 

I explained that yes, Wife had been arrested for domestic violence back in the summer of 2004 (I had to stop for a minute to remember when it was) because she had let herself slip off of her medications and then threw a tantrum that spun way out of control.  He asked, "Did she go to jail that night?"  Yes she did, but then afterwards I didn't press charges so the court assigned her to some kind of anger management class and otherwise dropped it.  I added that I was sure he could find the police records somewhere, but he explained that he didn't necessarily need all the details.  He just has a list of questions he has to ask.

 

About that time his partner came out and the two of them conferred for a moment; then they traded places.  First Policeman went in to talk to Wife, while Second Policeman kept me company.  He didn't really have any questions, though, so we just passed the time until First Policeman was done and had come outside again.  The one of them thought to ask, "Does anybody in the house own a firearm?"

 

I could hear that Wife had crept close to the screen door to listen closely to how I answered this, because I still have not told her where her revolver is.  So I answered scrupulously accurately, but without naming anybody:

 

"Yes, my wife bought a revolver a long, long time ago.  Back when she was arrested for domestic violence she had to give it up for a while – I forget how long – and she did so.  But then when the time period was up she got it back.  Some time later we were on a routine visit to see my parents and I discovered she had packed her revolver in with her toothpaste and underwear and other personal effects.  We had been fighting just before that so this really frightened me.  [At this the policemen made noises suggesting maybe they didn't think this sounded exactly normal either.]  Anyway, I removed it from her stuff and left it with somebody else, asking them to keep it far far away."  I was a little concerned that by handing the revolver off without a paper trail I might have violated some state regulation, but all the officer asked was, "So it's nowhere in your dwelling at this point?"

 

"No sir, it is not."

 

At this point Wife piped up that she was really interested to hear what I had said because I have never told her where it is and sometimes I have said misleading or inconsistent things about where it might be.  But the officer simply told her, "The important thing ma'am is that it is nowhere in the dwelling.  That's what your husband tells us, and you say you don't know where it is, so that's good enough for me."  Wife spluttered some more, but the officer plainly considered that question closed.

 

The only remaining issue as far as the two policemen were concerned was whether they could afford to leave us alone.  They explained that of course they would have to write a report, but it was just going to he a "he-said, she-said" kind of report with no further action.  Did I think they could afford to leave us and have nothing else bad happen tonight?  I said I was quite certain that we could both stay in the house tonight with nothing bad happening.  We discussed this for a couple minutes more, and then they took their leave, reminding me that if we had any more problems we should call them back.  I said something to the effect that I certainly hoped there would be no need to, and waved as they drove off.

 

Sleep well!