Bad, Bad News

It was a golden spring afternoon when I felt a hand on my shoulder. My eyes blasted open and I shook out of my restful sleep to find a man in a police uniform. Not one, actually, but two. It took me a beat to realise that I was completely nude apart from the tight Fruit of the Loom underwear grasping my crotch.

“Sorry officers, let me put on some clothes” I said, nervously.

I ran into my house from my front porch, past my living room and into my walk-in closet to grab a white cotton shirt and khaki trousers. I splashed cold faucet water on my face and I made my way back to the two men of the law waiting outside. They were both wearing face-masks (while the pandemic has been coming to its end, it was mandatory for some people to continue wearing them).

“Should I wear one?” I asked the shorter one of the two.

“You’re fine.” He answered in a deep, calm voice.

I stood there immobile, waiting for one of them to talk. It seemed like they were expecting the same thing from me.

“How can I help you officers?”

“Sorry sir. We called you a few times but you weren’t waking up. We had to take action. Sorry again.”

“That’s fine. Who needs to sleep at four in the afternoon anyway?” I answered in somewhat sarcastic undertones that I hoped they didn’t catch on.

The two men were overwhelmingly different. The shorter one that spoke to me, was well, short for starters. He had a shaved head, dark eyes, a sort of crooked nose, and what I guessed was a lot of muscle. His partner, was a giant. That was not an understatement. He measured at least six foot five and had piercing blue eyes. I had not heard him speak, yet but his severe unbroken gaze left me voiceless. Silence dawned upon us once more and I felt force to ask again.

“How can I help?”

“Yes, sorry. You are Mr. Ezra Grey, correct?”

“Yes. Well last time I checked, I was.”

“And you are the owner of this property, right?”

“I absolutely am; Since 2015.” I answered with a prideful tone.

I bought this small but lovely house after I had gained a large sum of money from my grandmother passing. She was a socialite, a renown novelist, and an almost succesful playwright. Much more succesful than me, in every way possible. As her only grandson I got a big old pouch of dollars and following the advices of my few friends, bought property with it. Nevertheless, I was worrying about the wrong thing. Why were two policemen questioning me at four in the afternoon?

“What have I done officers? Why the surprise visit?”

“Are you hiding something?” The blue-eyed giant finally spoke. His voice wasn’t as deep as his shorter partner. I would’ve guessed otherwise.

I couldn’t help it but my face turned a venomous red, like a strawberry syrup in crystal clear water. I was suddenly facing a wave of angst — for no apparent reason.

“Don’t worry. We don’t have any reasons to doubt you…for now.”

I took calm deep breaths as the officers looked at me. I was sure that white pearled smiles were hiding under their masks, even though I can’t see it. Cops love to scare an innocent man. What did he mean by “for now,” though?

“Could we see some identification? Just to make sure. It’s policy.” The short one added vigorously.

I nodded and turned around showing them the way into my house. The two men stayed very close to me as if to prevent any sudden movements from my part. To avoid falling into a state of panic I focused uniquely on the search for my papers. Obviously I couldn’t find it anywhere. I look on my living room table — nothing but marks of today’s poke-bowl lunch. A few pieces of rice here and there and half circles of the beer-bottle I was drinking then. I gave a nervous smile to the policemen who seem to be getting impatient with my lengthy treasure hunt. I remembered that I often drop it down my backpack; I found it in the corner of my room, but nothing inside. What have I done with it? Did I leave it in the car? I exited out the front door and walked towards my car.

“Don’t get any ideas, bud” grinned the blue-eyed giant with mischievous eyes.

Their shadowy presence following my every move was frightening.

I opened the front door of my navy-blue Volkswagen Tiguan — I sighed wonderfully, thanking the gods above that I seem to only look up to in moments of fortune or fear. My papers were there, on top of the front passenger seat. My car was a chaotic mess, an ambulant dumpster; a trashcan on wheels. I turned around and gave the shorter policeman (I trusted him more) the papers. I could smell their impatience.

“Sorry about that — head’s in the clouds recently…plus I’ve just woken up from a nap.”

The giant snarled at me and grabbed the papers out of my hand abruptly. He scrupulously studied the 15cm of plastic square on the papers comparing it with my sunburnt face and walked back into the house. He looked at his partner and nodded in a perfectly robotic fashion.

“What’s this smell?” he asked me, looking around, sniffling.

“Just food.”

“Smells horrible.” He added, imitating a vomiting spur.

“It’s the fish-sauce.”

“Fish-sauce? What in the hell is that?” He asked, scrunching his face like a caricature.

“It’s an east-asian sauce. You use it for woks and what-not.”

“For walks?”

“Wok.”

“Weird. You an asian-lover?” He added, looking at his partner in a justifying gaze — which he got.

“What?”

He exploded in laughter and slapped my back with his humongous troll hands. I omitted the natural scream that came with the pain that emanated from the five-star back-smack.

“It’s rare to see a man who cooks.”

This guy was the epitome of all that I hated.

“Do you know what year we are in?” I let out, instantly regretting my choice.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.” He got extremely close to me, almost placing his elongated nose on my forehead. I chuckled anxiously.

I decided to stop talking — there was nothing that this conversation could ever bring me. Apart from anger and even more hatred towards them.

While there could be an interesting dialogue or debate that could potentially emanate from this — his harsh and judgemental tone was overwhelming and silence seemed to be the more appropriate response. Plus I was still completely lost with the reasons why I was in this situation right now.

“Can we take a look at your garden?”

“Well, at this point, yes go ahead. I would like to know a bit more as to why I’m being questioned and my house searched, without a warrant by the way.”

They couldn’t bother to answer and went back out through the porch and into the garden. It was relatively small but I took very good care of it. I mowed the lawn every week, made sure to keep the many plants alive, and a large oak tree stood tall in the far-away left corner. It was majestic — that’s the only word I could give it: majestic.

“Nice garden. Wish I had one like that.” The shorter policeman said to me, taking down his mask to breathe for a beat.

“It’s hard-work and dedication. Plus a lot of free-time.”

“I’m sure. What is it that you do anyway?” He pondered.

“I’m a writer.”

“You’ve written anything I’d know?”

“Probably not, I’m self-published and haven’t sold many copies.”

Oh the number of times I had to answer this question.

“What kind of tree is this?”

“Oak.”

“Would make some nice fire for the winter wouldn’t it?” Added the giant.

God, what an asshole.

The shorter man took a deep breath and takes a look at his partner. A few seconds passed and they both nodded to each other. I was out of the loop, clearly. Not sure if this was an inside joke, a prank, or one of those hidden camera shows. The more time passed I was unsure whether to explode in nervous uncontrollable laughter or freezing fear. He coughed a bit and spat on a dirt-filled corner of my garden.

“Sorry about that, stupid allergies” he said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, and continued “… well, I’m sorry to tell you that we’re not bearer of good news.”

That’s it: the freezing fear was shivering through my body.

“Tell me.”

“Ms. May and June Hanada live here with you correct?”

“Yes. My girlfriend and her daughter. They moved here not too long ago. I think they’re on their way back from June’s school right now in the bus. Why?”

My body went into a mode I had never experienced before. The shivering fear became a spectral numbness. The news hadn’t even left his mouth or attained my ears that I could already sense the primary signs of an anxiety attack.

“Well, it seems like there’s been an accident.” The shorter cop spoke deeply and firmly.

“What, what do you mean? The bus had an accident?” My voice began to shake.

“No. A car accident.”

“How? When? Where?”

“There’s about an hour, now, not far from the school, on 58th avenue.”

“But how — they were supposed to take the bus.”

“I don’t know Mr. Grey.”

“Are they in the hospital? In an ambulance?”

“Mr. Grey. Your girlfriend and her child are…”

He paused and I could predict the word that was about to leave from his mouth all the way into the heavy air that permeated the space around us.

“They’re dead, Mr. Grey.” The blue-eyed giant burst out.

“They passed in the fire following the accident.” The other added.

In the undecipherable, lengthy seconds that followed, everything blurred around me and I fell on the freshly mowed lawn. The warm smell of grass was the last thing my body could feel.

I’m not sure how long I was out. I felt a firm hand grasping my shoulder and moving me front and back. I slowly came back to my senses.

“Are you okay? Should we call someone?”

“I’m fine. I’m okay.” I paused before adding “…am I supposed to…see them?”

“Someone’s gonna have to. Someone’s gonna have to identify the bodies.”

“What about May’s husband?”

“Are you not…her husband?”

“She’s my girlfriend. Her husband and her divorced a year ago.”

“I see. Do you have any idea where he lives?”

“I think he’s near the Mall Center. You are police, you should know this. I need to be alone for a moment.”

“I understand” said the shorter policeman.

He made a sign with his hand and the blue-eyed giant waved. They both went around the garden and left towards the front façade of the house. I stared into the far-away void — their contrasting silhouettes advanced heavily into nothingness.

I let my body crash back onto the sun-kissed grass and stayed there, petrified. The oddly shaped landscape around me, with the majestic oak tree, the smaller infant pine trees and the myriad of flowers draping my garden, hazed behind the waterfall of tears dripping from my pupils. The cave of my eyes drowned in the salty tides of sadness. Little by little I begin to realise what the giant policeman was talking about. The fish-sauce filled my nostrils with a pungent odour. I tried to ignore it and closed my eyes.

In the darkness, colourful drawings began to appear from the lost tears that crystallised on the surface of my pupils. The forms began to shape out May’s silhouette. Her fine muscled back, the uneven freckles all over her soft body, the birthmark the shape of Australia near her bellybutton, and her silky hazelnut hair resting on her shoulder blades. Then, her emerald eyes emanated from the iridescent darkness. I could feel her stare — I had felt it just this morning, catching her looking at me, revealing just the corner of her pearly teeth out of her pulped lips. Her daughter appeared on her side, her caramel skin glowing in the glittering aura. She was ten years old. I could not believe it. The numbness became even more numbing.

Suddenly, in an incontrollable spur, I reminisced of the first time we met, May and I. The memories that flashed past my eyes brought me more pain than I could think. I realised that the death that always frightened me had happened: the death of someone I loved.

I remembered, however, that death was an innate part of life — not its opposite. People lose much in life; but by going back to these memories, I knew that it was one thing I would never lose: these memories — that is, until I lose my life. I guess, that’s part of what it means to be alive, knowing that one day, everything can disappear, like the light that shone across May and June’s face this morning, moments before the door closed behind them.