Kansas Summer

Aftermath

Officer Carroll was nice enough to provide me with some black coffee and a stale donut while I sat on the back seat of his squad car, watching as paramedics hauled away the lifeless body of my father under an ironically pristine white sheet.  I know I’m not the only one who suffers now; the ambulance has already collected at least a dozen more bodies, all shrouded in pure white coverings.  I dunk the donut in the piping coffee, and remove it, letting the falling rain cool it to the point where I can eat it.  The donut disintegrates in my mouth, and I swallow the crude pieces miserably.  The officer walks over to where I am seated.  He stoops down, and the water he collected in the brim of his hat spills cleanly into my Styrofoam cup.  I look up, eyes straining against the twilight.  The forty-year-old police officer tries to force his mouth into a smile, but I look down, and I feel the smile vanish.         

            “Colin,” he pipes up after a few seconds, “I know this might be a tough question, but do you have anywhere to go tonight?  I mean, do you have any family members close by?”  He swallows his words quickly.

            I wipe the combination of water, tears and sweat from my face.  I shake my head slowly.  “I don’t have anyone.”

            “Anyone?  I find that hard to believe.”  I look at him solemnly, letting him see the redness in my eyes.  “I’m sorry, Colin.  You don’t have anyone?” he repeats.

            “I have a stepmom.  I haven’t seen her in eleven years.  I have no idea where she is, and I don’t want to know.”

            “I’m sorry, Colin.  Until you start college, you need some guardianship, preferably of relation.  That’s the law.”

            “It’s a stupid law!” I mutter, throwing my coffee cup on the ground, the contents spreading themselves unevenly on the gravely asphalt.  “I’m eighteen!  I should be able to take care of myself!  I don’t want my stepmom, and she doesn’t want me!  She didn’t want my dad either!”  I hold my head in my hands, trying to erase the memory of my dad with a wood plank through his stomach, but it is etched permanently.

            “Colin, it’s getting dark.  You need somewhere to spend the night,” the policeman tells me. 

            “I want to spend the night with my dad.”

            “Don’t talk like that Colin!  I know your father.  I—knew your father.  He was a respectable man!  He would be ashamed to hear you talk like that.  You’ve got to be strong!”  He grips my shoulders.  “I know you’re upset, and I wish I could sympathize with you, but be strong for your dad!”

            More tears creep from my eyes, but I know that Officer Carroll is right.

            “Again, do you have anywhere to spend the night until we can find where your stepmother is?  The only other place would be the jailhouse, and there aren’t any showers.”

            “There’s one place.”

            The Jacksons were surprised to see a squad car pull up to their disheveled home.  They were even more surprised to see me get out of the back seat.  I sat in the back until Officer Carroll explained my situation to them.  Mrs. Jackson reacted first, burying her head in her husband’s dirty leather jacket.  I couldn’t help crying when I saw her reaction, but I tried as best I could to hold my feelings in.

            Soon, Mrs. Jackson couldn’t help it, and went inside.  Mr. Jackson came over to me and coaxed me out of the car.  I remember his large arms wrapped around me, almost like my father did, but it still didn’t feel the same.  It would never feel the same.