Time. Our perception of its passing changes from moment to moment. Events triggering shock have the uncanny way of slowing down its passage. After all, in such situations we likely need time to think and react quickly. If our sense of time worked like Tetris, speeding up as stress mounted, our ability to save ourselves would be greatly diminished.
I remember the first time I was in a car accident. It’s as clear as yesterday in my mind. I was 14, and one of 4 teenage passengers in my best friend’s car. Driving was a new freedom. A control that only a short while ago was owned by parents and other adults. But now my best friend was 16. He had his driver’s license, and access to his mother’s car.
Joyriding:
1 : a ride taken for pleasure (as in a car or aircraft); especially : an automobile ride marked by reckless driving (as in a stolen car)
2 : conduct or action resembling a joyride especially in disregard of cost or consequences
One Saturday afternoon my best friend and I, along with two other teens, went joyriding. How fast can you go between stop signs from block to block? How fast do you have to take a sharp curve to squeal the tires? I was the only girl, and sat in the back seat on the passenger’s side. Feeling a little nervous but wanting to seem tuff around the boys, I pushed though my unease. I was surrounded by laughter which created a false sense of security only because my young self did not understand my current vulnerability. We had one favorite hill. We would zoom down its steepness to the t-intersection at the bottom, quickly turning to avoid the steep drop off to the river below.
Rinse, repeat…rinse, repeat. Laugher ensued, and my friend started to push the car a little more. This is called over-confidence. We topped the hill again, and started the decent a little faster than the previous pass, which was a little faster than the time before that. This round, however, the car was not able to make the turn quick enough. We went nose first over the edge.
Time stood still. My memory of this event includes the typical movie reel type memory before the crash, which stops after we went over the ledge and resumes once we landed on a ledge about 8 feet below, unharmed but shaken (we were very lucky a ledge was there and not a tree or a sharper drop). During the few seconds we were in the air, I have a single still frame memory, like a snapshot. My ears lost their ability to hear. I don’t know if anyone screamed. I know I didn’t. I just remember being in mid air -frozen in time.
Pondering an uncertain future while lying on the dark forest floor is much like being in a car accident. There is this pause -then a snap realization of reality unfolding, second by second. Time slows. Awareness of your surroundings increases. You take a deep breath in, and then you wait for what happens next.
I don’t remember breathing from the time Joe’s car crested the hill to the time he reversed up the driveway in a fury only moments later. I’m sure I did, in a quiet as a mouse type way. My whispered voice to the 911 dispatcher seemed as loud as a yell, I was sure Joe would hear it even inside his car, even above the noise of the gravel road. After his headlights disappeared, the darkness of the forest was very comforting. But was he gone? Now that he knows where Emm is, will he return? Is he waiting for us to leave the cabin? Or is he walking back right now, hoping we were inside and didn’t hear the car pull up?
A police unit was on the way, we waited in bated breath. Every twig snapped by a passing animal caused us to completely freeze, straining to hear possible footsteps that never came. Over 30 minutes passed before the squad car arrived with three deputies. They parked at the top of the hill, and found us in the forest waiting. The dog gave us away. I was fully prepared to tackle the dog had we heard someone other than the police coming. By now, we were starting to feel the scraps, scratches, and bruises from the hurried dive into the darkness.
The roads were reported clear, no sigh of Joe. Several more units were dispatched to Emm’s apartment, and all units were on the lookout for his car. One of the deputies stayed with us for almost an hour, he and Emm taking turns talking to the police department and each other. We learned Joe’s car was soon found in the apartment parking lot, still warm but empty. We were advised to find another place to stay for the night, just in case Joe got away again. The harassing calls and texts were still coming. Joe was angry.
I grabbed some extra clothes, a pillow, my two small dogs, and the vegan pizza from the fridge knowing we would be glad for it in the near future. A little before 4:00am on June 18th, we pulled away from the cabin and headed to a friend of Emm’s that Joe did not know. Once we were on the road, we realized why Joe probably didn’t come in the house. While he knew QB was gone, he did not know that QB took his Kujo dog with him. Yes, we have a big defensively biting dog, and Joe knew he would cause problems should he try to enter the house. My two 5 pounders would have been punting practice. I’ve never been protected by a dog that wasn’t actually there; this night I experienced a lot of “firsts”.
As we were passing through town, not far from Emm’s apartment, the police called her and asked if Joe was still calling. Of course he was, he had never stopped. They wanted to try and trace the call. For the first time since Emm ran away, she was going to have to talk to Joe. The police met us just inside the apartment complex, and after talking with Emm for about 15 minutes, told us pull into behind a building to keep us out of sight. Cop cars were everywhere, and Emm and I once again felt this would be over soon.
Have you ever tried to trick a child into confessing? As a child, we often try lying our way out of a mess we obviously are responsible for while the parent plays this push pull compromise game hoping to get some truth. Negotiating with a criminal is a lot like negotiating with a child. They know they’re guilty, you know they’re guilty, and everyone is buffing about consequences.
Emm and the police tried to negotiate with Joe for over an hour -attempting to convince him that because they were alerted to a domestic disturbance, they needed to meet with Joe for a moment and all could be resolved. Which was the truth, however; the final result would not be in Joe’s favor as the police alluded. Joe was talking in a whisper; he was hard to hear in the phone conversations. He was somewhere in the area, hiding. The police finally obtained a key to Emm’s apartment, and once they discovered the top dead-bolt was locked –which could only be done on the inside- negotiations stopped as Emm gave them permission to break into the apartment. Joe must be inside.
While we waited, I was once again hungry, very hungry. I reached into a bag on the floorboard, and grabbed the styrofoam container holding the left over pizza. The nice thing about vegan food is it takes a while to go bad even when lacking refrigeration. The pizza had lost its crispness, but transformed into an equally yummy mushy herbed veggie covered soft bread. Maybe my hunger was skewing the deliciousness if it, but even now it sounds appealing. Emm was nodding off as I calmly ate my pizza as if we were taking a break on a road trip. I was definitely still in shock.
“What was taking so long?” we wondered. We were left alone for more than 45minues. Time passed slowly. We watched as the sky went from dark, to gray, to twilight. What was going on? Oh, look, a bunny rabbit. Did they catch Joe? Finally, a police car pulled over to where we were parked. They had searched the apartment, Joe was gone. I started the car and followed the policeman over to Emm’s apartment. She needed to get some things she didn’t have time to grab earlier, and what better time to do then now with 20 cops crawling the area.
The calls were still coming. As Emm and I made our way down from her third floor apartment, our hands full, we could only guess that Joe managed to climb down the wall when the police somehow were not looking. We packed the trunk, surrounded by several police cars and standing officers. As we walked over to the police to coordinate our plans, Emm received a text. “I climbed down from the balcony. I see you have finally decided to show up. You lied to me. I will not go back to jail.”
More texts, saying similar things, came one after another as we stood there with the police. He even called too, but those went unanswered. What a pompous ass. The police realized he would not be coaxed out of his hiding place, so he would have to be tricked. A police car escorted us to the station where we would not only be safe, but where the texts and messages Joe kept constantly sending could be monitored. The police made the appearance of leaving. Only unmarked cars and plain clothes officers would remain at the scene.
So there Emm and I were, trying to nap in a dark corner of the conference room at the police station. The pups were napping in the back seat of the car, exhausted. In an effort to wind down, Emm and I were laughing at the absurdity of the situation while expressing relief we were ok – for now, Joe was still on the loose. But at least we could sleep without fear. The hard floor of the police station was inviting, but only because it was safe.
The act of sleeping puts us in a very vulnerable situation. Until now, I’ve never been in a situation where sleep was anything more than much needed rest. Sleeping now just reminds me of how truly inefficient and unpractical our bodies really are. I wonder what happened in our evolution to necessitate sleep. Thoughts such as this were flitting around my mind as I began to doze off. I had stopped trying to predict the near future, and decided for now, to just try and get some rest.
To Be Continued…
This is just a picture of a oppossum that we found sneaking into our doggie door last year. It's kind of relative - they do wander around forests after dark. ;-)
