Catching Rainbows

22

tw/ hate speech, homophobia 

I was woken that night not by Hailie for once but by breaking glass. My window was open because of the heat, and I jumped out of bed and looked out at the empty back yard, puzzled.

Then the sound came again, more from the front. I quietly went downstairs and peeked out the front window just in time to see a dark figure running across the sparse, weed-studded lawn. He fell at the edge and scrambled up to continue fleeing. Stupid teenagers causing trouble. We were near the movie theater and the billiards hall so we got our fair share of after-hours shenanigans.

I debated. If I called the police, they would undoubtedly wake up Hailie when they came, and I was so tired. But I had to see what vandalism had occurred, in case it was at the bookstore. I couldn't enter it from the house because the door made a clunking sound that could wake my little cousin.

So I got my small stun gun from my purse and slipped out onto the porch, quiet in case any of them were still there. The air was chilled, a nice contrast to my warm room, and I stood and listened for a few moments. I could see the minivan and my old car were intact.

Finally I walked far enough to see the front of the bookstore, and the broken glass all over from the three front windows. "Fuck," I said, because we had basic insurance that I was pretty sure didn't cover smaller damage like this.

Then I noticed the graffiti, which was in the shadows and written in black spray paint across the door. FUCK YOU DIKE it read boldly, the chemical smell still hanging in the air.

I was instantly hot and cold at the same time, disbelief and rage boiling up inside me while chills covered my skin. I felt myself drawn closer, mindless of my bare feet, though the glass wasn't in the walkway. I couldn't believe my eyes. I'd heard it before, sure. But seeing it like this, even misspelled, I could feel the hatred behind it and fury overruled any fear I might have momentarily felt.

I realized it wasn't smart to be outside by myself right then in my pajamas, taser or no taser. I retreated to the house and locked the door, shaking. The fucking audacity! I was going to destroy this loser. I just hadn't figured out how yet.

He had no idea who he was playing with. I wasn't afraid of him.

Shaking off my distracting thoughts, I went to my room, got dressed, put on my makeup, and called the cops from the roof. I knew we would need the report for the insurance, just in case. I asked the dispatcher if they could please be very quiet if at all possible when they came, since we had a child with special needs. Then I heated up yesterday's coffee and looked out the window while I waited for them.

They parked without lights flashing, which I appreciated, and I went out and told them what happened. They were both older, the man skinny and reeking of cigarettes, the woman intelligent-eyed and super butch, which made me feel less defensive. I've been mocked by authorities before for being gay, nothing new there, and I hadn't been looking forward to the additional stress. At least with these two, chances were good it wouldn't be a homophobic encounter.

Indeed, the female cop shook her head and spit on the ground. "Fucking assholes," she said in disgust with a Spanish accent. "This directed at you?" She wrote something on her little notebook, lips thin. She was stocky and in her forties, her hair very short and dark.

I nodded, trying to remember if we had any paint left that I could cover it with.

"Who did it?" she asked, because we both knew a crime like this was personal.

I was torn. "Without proof, does it even matter?" I didn't want to make things worse for Chloe.

The other officer was walking around, shining his flashlight here and there. He bent over and retrieved something where Keith had fallen down. "Here's your proof," he said, holding up a wallet. He flipped through it was he walked back over to us. "Keith Randall?"

I felt super triumphant but anxious at the same time, again worried about him taking it out on her if he got busted. "I don't know his last name, but yeah, his first is Keith." I looked back at the damage. "He dated a new friend of mine; he doesn't like us hanging out."

"You two have a personal history at all?" the guy asked, unwrapping a toothpick and sticking it in his mouth where he promptly began chewing on it. The smell of cinnamon flavoring drifted to me.

"No, I met both of them a few weeks ago. He's said some disturbing things on the few occasions I've had to be near him, but this is really . . . " I gestured at the destruction, searching for words. "Something," I finished lamely.

The woman cop was writing in her notebook again. All of her gear was somewhat intimidating. "You know if he has a record? Violent kind of guy?"

"Violent type," I agreed. "Has a good image though so not sure about the record. I would think he's slipped up at some point though."

"Lovely," she said scathingly, coughing a little. "Sorry, these damn allergies. Well, we'll bring him to the station, have a talk with him before someone bails him out. These guys always have someone to bail them out."

I figured Chloe's whole family would show up for that privilege, and hate me when they found out why. He would make this seem like my fault somehow, watch. Or come out innocent.

They walked around the inside with me and we found the bricks that had been thrown through the windows. Imaginative. One had a poorly drawn picture of a dick and balls on it, probably done with Sharpie. "Wow," I said, trying not to give him the power of making me feel so angry, but it wasn't working.

"Yep, dealing with a real winner here," she said, shaking her head again. "Be very cautious, miss. I hope your friend is safe from him."

I stared at the crude picture in my hand. "I'll make sure she is," I said.

They helped me hang some old tarps over the open window frames and left. I immediately called Chloe, hoping he hadn't gotten home yet. It was 3:30.

"Hey?" she said groggily on the second ring.

"Hi, sorry, it's me. Luna." I sat on my porch and spoke quietly. I was afraid to leave the safety of the house but I couldn't go through it to my room while talking. "Um, so, are you awake enough to get what I'm saying?"

"Yes." She sounded much more alert. "What happened?"

"Shit," I said, not wanting to tell her. "I'm sorry but the cops are on their way to your house to talk to Keith," I said in a rush.

"Are you okay?" she asked quickly. "Oh my God, what did he do?"

"Nothing, I mean, not to me or anything," I hurried to answer. "He broke some windows, dabbled in a little graffiti. He fell when he was leaving and the cops found his wallet."

"Fuck," she swore. "That motherfucker. I'm so sorry Luna, God."

"Okay but calm down," I told her. "Yes, it's messed up, but we both know how he is. I know this isn't your fault at all, okay?" 

"Oh, yeah, right," she said angrily, mad at herself, and she was crying. My heart clenched. "I brought him there; I started all this. I'm really sorry."

If only I could say the right thing. "Please don't feel that way. Whatever he does is worth it to have you in my life." I was punch-drunk from exhaustion and filterless.

Her breath caught. "Really? Why?"

"Really," I assured her. "For lots of reasons. Tons of them. I'll show you my list later but I have to warn you it's long, more of a scroll than an actual list."

She laughed despite herself. "You are really great," she said. "I hope you know that."

"Back at you babe." I yawned. "Can you take off or would your rather be there to find out what happens or how do you want to handle this?"

"I'm just going to stay in my room, hopefully. I don't want to talk to cops."

"No, who does. Okay well I'm going to let you go since they should be there soon but this is me, blowing you a kiss."

"This is me catching it," she said. "Yep, they're here. Talk to you soon."

"Good luck," I said, disconnecting, and went back inside to drink more coffee and wait for her to call me.