Home After Dark
I came home late after work one night last week. Very late. The bedroom lights were off, so I knew the rest of the family was asleep. I pulled the car to the curb about four houses down—the closest available spot, since our urban block doesn’t have driveways or garages. As I clicked off the key, I noticed a hooded figure in the shadows on the sidewalk in front of my house. The person peered intently at the front door, then all around the roofline, apparently sizing up the place. There were some furtive glances up and down the street.
I hadn’t opened the car door yet. I slid my cell phone out of my pocket.
A month or so ago our home was burglarized. The job was done in a short window of time when we were out of the house, evidently by someone watching the place. After visits from detectives and a colorful cast of bounty hunters, it also became apparent the job was done by someone who favored armed robbery and sexual assault on minors.
I waited a little longer in the car. The hooded figure turned and walked away, down the street. I tucked my phone back in my pocket, reached for my daypack, and got out.
I could still see him, shuffling in sagging pants. He paused and turned toward me.
He had a thinner face than I expected for such a large frame. His hands were in his front sweatshirt pockets. As he approached, he kept moving along the chain link fence lining the front yards, scanning each house as he passed.
“Can I help you?” I finally offered.
“Could you tell me how to get to 33rd and High?” From his voice, I now recognized this was just a young kid… a really nervous young kid.
“You’re on High now, just go 3 blocks further up that way. What are you looking for?”
“I’m just trying to get home.” He sounded almost ready to cry. “I just moved here. All these different houses are really confusing.”
“You ok? Need a ride up there?”
“No, man, I’ll make it.” He exhaled hard. Off he went, doing a double-time version of the sagging-pants shuffle.
I exhaled too. I watched him as long as I could, and then stuck my key in the front door lock.
Comments
I totally know how you feel on nights like these. I want to help people in need but the feelings of fear and vulnerability from being burglarized are so fresh that it's easy for me to feel intense suspicion towards anyone on the block.
Posted by: Anonymous | April 7, 2006 01:05 PM