An Interlude
July 8, 2012
Michelle had to get out of the house before she went stir crazy. Standing in a maternity shop with her mom, she's noticing the changes that the last few days have brought about - the saleswoman is skittish, watching the other customers and the street outside.
"What about this one?"
"Mom, I'm not a beach ball yet. I don't think I need anything for a few weeks, at least."
Linda gives a long suffering sigh and puts the pants back on the rack. "We don't know what the future holds. Have you heard anything?"
Only a few pedestrians pass by the window.
"There's nothing to hear," she says, focusing on an exceptionally ugly shirt.
"Chelle -- " And she knows that's the beginning of another conversation she doesn't want to have.
In the distance, Michelle hears the low rumble of a bus.
Everything happens in an instant.
She's picking up another blouse.
Muffled staccato shout.
Man running past them, his coat close to his body.
A police officer yelling at him to stop and drawing his weapon.
Screaming, this time from the scattered pedestrians and before Michelle can reach the door, gunshots.
Her hand goes to her waist out of habit and she looks over at her mom, who is very still and pale, her hand gripping one of the hangers.
The saleswoman is hiding under the counter and Michelle puts her hands on her mom's shoulders.
"Mom?" She's trying to get her to hear her voice, to know that they're okay, but part of her is assessing the situation and she's not sure what just happened.
She looks over at the saleswoman again, who is slowly beginning to stand, and makes a decision. I have to see what the hell is going on
"Mom?" She moves to hold onto her hands and gently leads her to a nearby chair. Gunshots aren't part of her mom's life. And it's even been a while since Michelle herself has heard one.
"Chelle, what - " Her mom's voice is almost frail.
"I'm going to go see what happened. I'll be right back, I promise." She has no badge, and they'll look oddly at a pregnant woman asking questions, but right now she doesn't care.
Michelle opens the door and steps outside, hearing loud voices and sirens coming closer.
A cop is hitting the dark-skinned man on the ground, screaming that he won't succeed this time, and blood is seeping into the concrete sidewalk. His partner is calling in the incident, saying that the man was a terror suspect.
Michelle edges closer.
Another officer steps in front of them, blocking her view. "Ma'am, for your own safety please go back to behind the line - " His mirrored shades reflect the sun and his head's angled down, as if wondering if she too is a danger.
The cop beating the man roughly shakes him and empties the man's backpack, running his hand over the items. His partner curses. Michelle can't see what he found, but the cop without the blood stained hands is checking the man's pulse.
She's unable to look away from the blood pooling into the street, and she thought she'd never have to see a scene like this ever again.
The one with mirrored shades gets a call and the ambulance arrives.
You were supposed to protect him! That woman's voice forever echoes in her mind.
Some of the other people begin clapping and Michelle lifts her hands to join them, but instead turns away.
Michelle had to get out of the house before she went stir crazy. Standing in a maternity shop with her mom, she's noticing the changes that the last few days have brought about - the saleswoman is skittish, watching the other customers and the street outside.
"What about this one?"
"Mom, I'm not a beach ball yet. I don't think I need anything for a few weeks, at least."
Linda gives a long suffering sigh and puts the pants back on the rack. "We don't know what the future holds. Have you heard anything?"
Only a few pedestrians pass by the window.
"There's nothing to hear," she says, focusing on an exceptionally ugly shirt.
"Chelle -- " And she knows that's the beginning of another conversation she doesn't want to have.
In the distance, Michelle hears the low rumble of a bus.
Everything happens in an instant.
She's picking up another blouse.
Muffled staccato shout.
Man running past them, his coat close to his body.
A police officer yelling at him to stop and drawing his weapon.
Screaming, this time from the scattered pedestrians and before Michelle can reach the door, gunshots.
Her hand goes to her waist out of habit and she looks over at her mom, who is very still and pale, her hand gripping one of the hangers.
The saleswoman is hiding under the counter and Michelle puts her hands on her mom's shoulders.
"Mom?" She's trying to get her to hear her voice, to know that they're okay, but part of her is assessing the situation and she's not sure what just happened.
She looks over at the saleswoman again, who is slowly beginning to stand, and makes a decision. I have to see what the hell is going on
"Mom?" She moves to hold onto her hands and gently leads her to a nearby chair. Gunshots aren't part of her mom's life. And it's even been a while since Michelle herself has heard one.
"Chelle, what - " Her mom's voice is almost frail.
"I'm going to go see what happened. I'll be right back, I promise." She has no badge, and they'll look oddly at a pregnant woman asking questions, but right now she doesn't care.
Michelle opens the door and steps outside, hearing loud voices and sirens coming closer.
A cop is hitting the dark-skinned man on the ground, screaming that he won't succeed this time, and blood is seeping into the concrete sidewalk. His partner is calling in the incident, saying that the man was a terror suspect.
Michelle edges closer.
Another officer steps in front of them, blocking her view. "Ma'am, for your own safety please go back to behind the line - " His mirrored shades reflect the sun and his head's angled down, as if wondering if she too is a danger.
The cop beating the man roughly shakes him and empties the man's backpack, running his hand over the items. His partner curses. Michelle can't see what he found, but the cop without the blood stained hands is checking the man's pulse.
She's unable to look away from the blood pooling into the street, and she thought she'd never have to see a scene like this ever again.
The one with mirrored shades gets a call and the ambulance arrives.
You were supposed to protect him! That woman's voice forever echoes in her mind.
Some of the other people begin clapping and Michelle lifts her hands to join them, but instead turns away.