Part II:
Vulnerability comes in many different flavors. And, each individual has their own taste tolerances and preferences which are constantly evolving. Experience teaches us about our own vulnerabilities, and with each confronting incident we learn a little more about ourselves and about life. Growing up in a safe loving home in the heart of the USA, my first experience with vulnerability was the sweeter kind, the sweet vulnerability of a first love.
Sweet vulnerability is like a candy. Its tempting confection yields a warm and fuzzy feeling in a place never touched before. At first, it’s impossible to get enough. You soon learn too much can hurt you, but like a drug you want more. Adolescents often have to learn the hard lessons of indulging too quickly in the sweet yet fleeting vulnerability of young love. Yet, if they only ever have to worry about the sweeter vulnerabilities, they are one of the lucky ones.
We experience vulnerability every day whether we are aware or not. Every time we ride in a car, walk though a crowd, or walk alone in a dark parking lot. Thousands if little trust provoking incidents fly in and out of our lives every day like a mosquito that may or may not bite you. There are always different levels of concurrent vulnerabilities waiting to be instantaneous exploited. Some may even be self-inflicted. Vulnerabilities can be sour, making something deep inside you pucker. Or they may be bitter, which repel you from certain situations, noises, or people. They can bring the exhilarating rush of danger without leaving you too exposed, like skydiving. And, then some coat your tongue with a foulness that just can’t be removed. A lingering rottenness remains. These types of events often are a result of the intentional actions of another human being.
Just after 8:00pm on June 17th, 2010, Emm and I were driving away from the magistrate’s office. She was grated a protective order, and two warrants for Joe’s arrest were issued. We felt both an overwhelming sense of relief and the insecurity of a new vulnerability. What would happen if the police failed to arrest Joe? As the police were on the way to her apartment, we were heading straight to Maryland to “hide-out”. We didn’t want to be anywhere Joe could find us right now. The police were to call Emm when they had Joe. But the next contact was not from the police, it was from Joe. It was a text. “Did you call the police?”
We both at first instantaneously burst into laughter. We thought the police were at the door with Joe on the other side. The arrest would take place in minutes, we were sure. Another text, “Did you fucking call the police or not?”. We were wondering what was taking so long. After a few minutes of silence, no more phone calls or texts, we started to get our hopes up. Silence was good, right? It must mean they were arresting Joe. Then Emm got another text, “I saw the police go up to the apartment, did you call the police?” Crap. He must have been smoking a cigarette. The police were gone, and Joe was now very suspicious. We continued to drive.
Moments like these, when another layer protecting your vulnerability is forcefully removed, generate a cold sinking feeling inside. Dread. But, we were driving away. Joe would not be able to find us, and hopefully the police would catch him in a few hours. The incessant phone calls and texts reminded us he was still free, but she couldn’t turn off her phone or block Joe in case he said something incriminating. The police wanted a record.
Five hours after I left for the book store alone, Emm and I pulled into the parking lot. I had placed a book on reserve, and didn’t want my coupon to go to waste. Besides, we had to find something to keep us distracted. I quickly retrieved my book, and picked up one more I was wanted to read. Now what to do? Hum. As we took a pause for the first time in hours, we both suddenly realized we were starving. I had a shake when I woke up about 7 hours ago, then I ate a wrap when Emm first arrived at my place almost 4 hours ago, and nothing after. Emm had eaten even less.
I quickly got QB on the phone and asked him to look up some vegetarian friendly restaurants nearby. Score; there was at least one awesome place and a few other promising eateries nearby. Their closing time was 2am, and they were a combo restaurant, café, and pub. Great place to hang out to let the storm blow over.
The way our hierarchy of needs fluctuates given external pressures is fascinating. Safety is our most basic need. Then we have food and shelter. We were across the river, in a place unbeknownst to Joe, we felt safe. And so, we were hungry. The first location closed their kitchen at 9pm. Only coffee, tea, or alcohol. Damn. We walked up the street for two blocks, popping into each restaurant looking for an open kitchen. Finally, we found a place, but they were only serving from their after-hours menu. Local brewed beer or pizza were our choices.
“What would you like?” said the waitress. I looked directly at her, in a way that exuded decisiveness not confrontation, and said, “We want to wing it, here’s what we want to do.” I explained we wanted a pizza without meat or cheese. Just put sauce on it, then put lots of vegetables (after all, it IS still Eat Your Vegetables Day). Pile it high with whatever you have; I’m sure we will love it. I refrained from using vegan or vegetarian, not knowing if she was informed or veg-friendly (I have met hostile non-veg friendly wait-staff); I just wanted a vegan pizza without the hassle. The waitress said she could do it. Yes! Food was on!
While we were waiting for the pizza, Emm and I sipped some unsweetened tea. I surprisingly liked it. I’ve never been able to drink unsweetened tea before. I made a mental note to try my Earl Grey tea with less stevia after this was all over. It was around this time I pulled out my little scribbling book. I began making a few notes about what to write about on my blog. My original intentions were to only document our night out in Maryland, but the future necessitated a more in-depth story.
Once the pizza arrived, I knew I couldn’t keep this from my blog. Sure, I was eating refined non-whole grain white wheat. It probably didn’t even have any fiber. And I was eating something with a taboo name like pizza. However, note that not one of my co-workers would call what we ate pizza. I like my co-workers. I am lucky to have a great crew. But, when they order pizza on our night shifts, it’s usually extra meat and cheese. Instead of cheese, we had fresh basil. I discovered basil is a wonderful cheese replacement on pizza. But, it must be fresh. Our pizza was smothered with lightly chopped fresh basil, with broccoli, mushrooms, and tomatoes all peeking though the green. Emm and I were in vegan pizza heaven -happy Eat Your Vegetables Day.
11:00pm, we each had two sliced of vegan pizza in our bellies -probably around 350 calories for each of us. The bready part was thin, and the veggies add little to the calorie count. We also had 4 pieces left over -excellent. We were the last people there, and even though the restaurant didn’t close until midnight, we decided leave. Hopefully the first café we visited was still serving tea. I tipped the waitress well, around 30%, she did a wonderful job with the pizza. I like to reward veg-friendly behavior and good service, makes it easier if I decide to go back. After all, with my dreads and tattoos, I’m not easy to forget.
The night was calm, refreshingly peaceful. But the events from earlier in the day lingered, leaving a sour tone to the fun night downtown. Emm’s phone was still ringing, and she still occasionally received a text. He was still free.
Once inside the café-bar, I walked up to the bartender and asked if they were still serving tea. They were. He directed me to the other end of the bar where their teas were listed in a chalkboard menu on the wall. Emm and I saw several types of tea we wanted to try. I figured we would be there until closing, so I turned to the bartender and said, “Can we open a tea-tab?”
We sat at a tall table by the window with a small candle. While the tea was still steeping, Emm took several photos of the tea cups and candle, hoping to capture the charming atmosphere with her phone. We sipped and talked, and for over an hour we almost forgot why we were there.
Tea and Books on Our Table.
Tension was mounting, silently, between us as we realized how fast the time had passed. We concurred that we would come back to have tea under a more light hearted pretense. Being on the run takes from a moment like a dog taking a bite from your fresh cake. Sure, you can try to cut around the missing slobbery area, but the cake is never the same, and even the clean part feels a little icky.
No word from the police. On the drive home, I called QB. Informed him Joe was still on the run. Everyone was slightly nervous because Joe may try to find the cabin. He didn’t know Emm was with me, but I was definitely the prime suspect. I was a meddler. Sometime after 2:00am on June 18th, we timidly and watchfully pulled into the driveway of the cabin. No Joe. No strange cars. Everything looked safe, so I called QB back. I told him we were at the cabin, and would be locking up soon.
I was feeling especially venerable. What if Joe came while we were asleep? He could break though one of these old windows easily if he wanted. What if he came then left? Ah ha! That thought gave me an idea. I told Emm to come help me. We locked my little dogs in the back of the cabin, but took Voo on a leash with us. My plan was to take some sewing sting and tie it across the driveway in three different places. That way we could tell if someone had driven down in the morning. I had the flashlight in my hand, and I had the string, scissors, and my phone in my pants. I put on my boots, and we started walking up the driveway.
The safe feeling of my hidden cabin was completely eroded at this point. QB had tried to call the country sheriff’s office to alert them of the situation, and give them directions in case we had to call 911. They informed him they would call him back for the details. They never did. I walked by several target trees, but decided to start from the top of the hill and work my way down the driveway. I found a great starting point just over half way up the big hill. Emm was waiting with Voo as I tied the string and walked it across the road to tie it to an opposite tree.
Just as I tied the final knot in the first line, we heard a car turn into the driveway. It was moving fast too. We could hear the gravel fly beneath the wheels as it turned to drive up the opposite side of the hill. Shit. I told Emm to run into the woods, and lay flat on the ground. Don’t move and don’t make a sound.
In situations of great danger, or potential great danger, I become calm. Dead calm. When I go into shock, I go into full analytical mode. My pulse will even beat normally. My senses are heightened. I’m alert. I’m aware.
His car lights crested the hill and broke the darkness. As he started down the driveway, my heart lurched into my throat. Emm, Voo, and I had already turned to bolt into the forest; I grabbed the cell phone, and dialed 911 as my body was in mid dive toward the unknowns on the dark forest floor. By the time my body landed in a bed of leaves and briers, around 20-30ft from the road, I was in shock. I experienced just a few seconds of sheer panic, then my mind quieted. My brain was running though possible scenarios as I gave the address to the lady on the other end of the phone.
As he drove past us down toward the cabin, I wondered what in the world I had gotten myself into.
