Early morning intrigue
Some people might take the booming voice of the police at your door early on New Year's Day as a bad omen for the year.
Not me.
Last night at one, after the party had abruptly ended with all participants but the hosts shuffling out in mass exodus as is custom at these weird international fêtes, where no one is quite sure what the appropriate exit strategy is, and as soon as one couple decides that the hour of departure has come, quickly, in silent solidarity, or to not seem like the inappropriate stragglers, all people, en masse, stand and begin the ritual kissing. One cheek? Two cheeks? It is always a slightly risky business and leaves the possibility of a mistaken (and surprising?) inadvertent brushing of lips against lips in the trans-Atlantic confusion.
Alicia wanted to walk me home with the girl. I thought the gesture sweet but the need preposterous. For what would I need an escort to walk just around the corner of the sleepy housing complex? But, aha! I had forgotten the folding chairs that I brought, and, needing them for breakfast seating, I turned after 35 steps to retrieve them. Everyone was still hovering around the doorway, now safely on the way home, but not wanting to leave exactly, our voices reverberated in what seemed amplified waves for the deserted and sleeping community. Gustavo insisted on helping me carry the four chairs, but then María José, just off the plane from Sevilla, and Nassim were headed in the same direction and walked us to the door, kissing, once again, our goodbyes. Strange. We noted a police cruiser and two officers looking like they were on official business. Did they ticket his car? We waffled for a moment, and debated asking them about their presence, but opted to make no scene and quietly, quickly continued on our way. I think I am glad that we didn't ask, because I wouldn't have slept well at all.
I got home and something made me take the fan out of the kitchen window and lock up. Perhaps the sleeping alone made me just a tiny bit more insecure? Who knows.
But this morning… the questions… “did you see anything strange last night?” “Yeah, police officers loitering outside our building, “ (I thought). Mystery solved! The enigmatic wallet was indeed not stolen from Miguel’s pocket at the shelter as we tried to explain to ourselves but had, in fact, been swiped from his work station by a home invader. Why do I jump to this conclusion? Well, let’s examine the facts that don’t add up and then those that do.
On December 25, Miguel, as is common to Saturday nights, did his two hour stint at the shelter, returning after people were happily seated and eating, returned home. Also as is custom, he emptied the contents of his pockets, including phone, keys, beeper, shelter keys, and wallet. Discrepancy 1: If his wallet had been stolen at the shelter, or even dropped, at this point he should have been alerted to that fact, finding it odd to not have his wallet. From this we can deduce that he _must_ have indeed had his wallet still at this point on Saturday evening.
Meanwhile I was upstairs reading or writing? Maybe, but in fact this evening my good-mothering skills kicked in and I actually stopped my own egotistical pursuits to read a story to Isabella (New Year’s resolution 1 – stop what I am doing more and read her books!). She fell asleep at 9! A miracle! And I can confirm this fact because my mother called wanting to talk to her and this is an approximation of the interchange that occurred, “Hi, I just called to say we arrived (details of flight omitted for brevity’s sake)” “Good. So you are home…” “Let me say hi to the girl” “No, actually Isabella is asleep, she fell asleep about a half hour ago” “What TIME is it?” (incredulous tone to voice inserted here) “9:30… I know, weird huh? She must have been really tired.” “Ok, well, have her call tomorrow.” “Ok, I will.”
So time stamped conversation validates the point that Isabella couldn’t possibly have been responsible _that_ particular night for what we will now classify as item A being entered into evidence: In the morning the back curtain was hanging at a precarious angle as if someone had a) hung from it as Isabella is wont to do, or b) opened the back door from the outside. Add to this fact that the door was, in fact, unlocked, which is really weird because we always lock our doors, but must have forgotten because I went upstairs long before is normal and failed to perform the shutting down rituals, Miguel arrived later and I assumed he would do them, which he assumed I had already done, so you see the vicious circle here?
Anomaly B – we were watching a gorgeous (but ultimately un-viewable, at least by me) film called “Japón” on which I might write later, should the spirit move me, until roughly 1:30 am. I say we were watching, but really I had gotten bored after the first 50 minutes and had rolled over, unceremoniously, and tried to sleep despite the light which made real sleep impossible. It is at this point in the narration that Miguel recalls hearing a strange noise. Although he didn’t wake me or make any comment, the movie was loud enough for voices to carry down the stairwell. He flushed the toilet, went downstairs for milk, and returned to the warmth of our pseudo-down (I have allergies to real down) comforter and promptly forgot said noise until mid-day when we were leaving and he could not find his wallet and he recalled going downstairs to see the curtain askew.
In retrospect all of these things might actually set off alarm bells, but when you are lulled into a false sense of security, surrounded by other young families, many known to you, well, you just don’t jump to conclusions. After searching for the wallet, and even returning to the shelter to check if it had fallen out and been retrieved by some kind soul, we decided that it had been stolen. I insisted, “Somebody could have opened the door, seen the wallet as an easy target and slipped back out.” “Who would take just a wallet?” “I don’t know, someone in a hurry? We should at least go to campus police and make a statement.” “What for? I don’t know that it was stolen from here, probably it just fell out of my pockets or that guy who was tweaking about his medicine and trying to grab the keys from me swiped it. I don’t trust him.” “But it _is_ plausible, you did hear a noise, didn’t you?” “Yeah, but who is going to do that here?” It is the doubt that gets you every time…
Enter booming police voice this morning, approaching Miguel as he returns from work, and calling me downstairs like a curious cat or a moth to the flame. “Did you see anything strange last night?” “No, I was working, why?” “We apprehended someone last night, an individual who was not supposed to be here.” “What happened?” “This man entered a home, uninvited, and saw a man… he turned around and left. We were called, when he hit the second home we were already there waiting for him. He entered and touched the sleeping wife’s arm and she said to him ‘I think you are in the wrong place’ and he turned around and walked out. That is where we arrested him.”
Creepy? Yes. Wow, what presence of mind, I think if a strange man were touching my arm in sleep I would probably just start swinging… but then, you never know how you will really react in any given situation. But am I worried? Do I take this as a bad sign? Hell no. I feel rather satisfied that the enigma has been clarified, and I am reminded to take better safety precautions in the future, what could be bad about that? I don’t fear being alone, not in the way that I feared it as an eight-year-old latch-key kid who would curl up in the TV room, wrapped in dread and darkness with an eight-inch kitchen knife, and the pre-remote manual cable channel-changing extendable box to accompany me. Life is what it is, and humans are what they are, weak, despicable, strong, admirable? It all depends on the situation and when the tables are turned we sometimes get to play the villains too.
Not me.
Last night at one, after the party had abruptly ended with all participants but the hosts shuffling out in mass exodus as is custom at these weird international fêtes, where no one is quite sure what the appropriate exit strategy is, and as soon as one couple decides that the hour of departure has come, quickly, in silent solidarity, or to not seem like the inappropriate stragglers, all people, en masse, stand and begin the ritual kissing. One cheek? Two cheeks? It is always a slightly risky business and leaves the possibility of a mistaken (and surprising?) inadvertent brushing of lips against lips in the trans-Atlantic confusion.
Alicia wanted to walk me home with the girl. I thought the gesture sweet but the need preposterous. For what would I need an escort to walk just around the corner of the sleepy housing complex? But, aha! I had forgotten the folding chairs that I brought, and, needing them for breakfast seating, I turned after 35 steps to retrieve them. Everyone was still hovering around the doorway, now safely on the way home, but not wanting to leave exactly, our voices reverberated in what seemed amplified waves for the deserted and sleeping community. Gustavo insisted on helping me carry the four chairs, but then María José, just off the plane from Sevilla, and Nassim were headed in the same direction and walked us to the door, kissing, once again, our goodbyes. Strange. We noted a police cruiser and two officers looking like they were on official business. Did they ticket his car? We waffled for a moment, and debated asking them about their presence, but opted to make no scene and quietly, quickly continued on our way. I think I am glad that we didn't ask, because I wouldn't have slept well at all.
I got home and something made me take the fan out of the kitchen window and lock up. Perhaps the sleeping alone made me just a tiny bit more insecure? Who knows.
But this morning… the questions… “did you see anything strange last night?” “Yeah, police officers loitering outside our building, “ (I thought). Mystery solved! The enigmatic wallet was indeed not stolen from Miguel’s pocket at the shelter as we tried to explain to ourselves but had, in fact, been swiped from his work station by a home invader. Why do I jump to this conclusion? Well, let’s examine the facts that don’t add up and then those that do.
On December 25, Miguel, as is common to Saturday nights, did his two hour stint at the shelter, returning after people were happily seated and eating, returned home. Also as is custom, he emptied the contents of his pockets, including phone, keys, beeper, shelter keys, and wallet. Discrepancy 1: If his wallet had been stolen at the shelter, or even dropped, at this point he should have been alerted to that fact, finding it odd to not have his wallet. From this we can deduce that he _must_ have indeed had his wallet still at this point on Saturday evening.
Meanwhile I was upstairs reading or writing? Maybe, but in fact this evening my good-mothering skills kicked in and I actually stopped my own egotistical pursuits to read a story to Isabella (New Year’s resolution 1 – stop what I am doing more and read her books!). She fell asleep at 9! A miracle! And I can confirm this fact because my mother called wanting to talk to her and this is an approximation of the interchange that occurred, “Hi, I just called to say we arrived (details of flight omitted for brevity’s sake)” “Good. So you are home…” “Let me say hi to the girl” “No, actually Isabella is asleep, she fell asleep about a half hour ago” “What TIME is it?” (incredulous tone to voice inserted here) “9:30… I know, weird huh? She must have been really tired.” “Ok, well, have her call tomorrow.” “Ok, I will.”
So time stamped conversation validates the point that Isabella couldn’t possibly have been responsible _that_ particular night for what we will now classify as item A being entered into evidence: In the morning the back curtain was hanging at a precarious angle as if someone had a) hung from it as Isabella is wont to do, or b) opened the back door from the outside. Add to this fact that the door was, in fact, unlocked, which is really weird because we always lock our doors, but must have forgotten because I went upstairs long before is normal and failed to perform the shutting down rituals, Miguel arrived later and I assumed he would do them, which he assumed I had already done, so you see the vicious circle here?
Anomaly B – we were watching a gorgeous (but ultimately un-viewable, at least by me) film called “Japón” on which I might write later, should the spirit move me, until roughly 1:30 am. I say we were watching, but really I had gotten bored after the first 50 minutes and had rolled over, unceremoniously, and tried to sleep despite the light which made real sleep impossible. It is at this point in the narration that Miguel recalls hearing a strange noise. Although he didn’t wake me or make any comment, the movie was loud enough for voices to carry down the stairwell. He flushed the toilet, went downstairs for milk, and returned to the warmth of our pseudo-down (I have allergies to real down) comforter and promptly forgot said noise until mid-day when we were leaving and he could not find his wallet and he recalled going downstairs to see the curtain askew.
In retrospect all of these things might actually set off alarm bells, but when you are lulled into a false sense of security, surrounded by other young families, many known to you, well, you just don’t jump to conclusions. After searching for the wallet, and even returning to the shelter to check if it had fallen out and been retrieved by some kind soul, we decided that it had been stolen. I insisted, “Somebody could have opened the door, seen the wallet as an easy target and slipped back out.” “Who would take just a wallet?” “I don’t know, someone in a hurry? We should at least go to campus police and make a statement.” “What for? I don’t know that it was stolen from here, probably it just fell out of my pockets or that guy who was tweaking about his medicine and trying to grab the keys from me swiped it. I don’t trust him.” “But it _is_ plausible, you did hear a noise, didn’t you?” “Yeah, but who is going to do that here?” It is the doubt that gets you every time…
Enter booming police voice this morning, approaching Miguel as he returns from work, and calling me downstairs like a curious cat or a moth to the flame. “Did you see anything strange last night?” “No, I was working, why?” “We apprehended someone last night, an individual who was not supposed to be here.” “What happened?” “This man entered a home, uninvited, and saw a man… he turned around and left. We were called, when he hit the second home we were already there waiting for him. He entered and touched the sleeping wife’s arm and she said to him ‘I think you are in the wrong place’ and he turned around and walked out. That is where we arrested him.”
Creepy? Yes. Wow, what presence of mind, I think if a strange man were touching my arm in sleep I would probably just start swinging… but then, you never know how you will really react in any given situation. But am I worried? Do I take this as a bad sign? Hell no. I feel rather satisfied that the enigma has been clarified, and I am reminded to take better safety precautions in the future, what could be bad about that? I don’t fear being alone, not in the way that I feared it as an eight-year-old latch-key kid who would curl up in the TV room, wrapped in dread and darkness with an eight-inch kitchen knife, and the pre-remote manual cable channel-changing extendable box to accompany me. Life is what it is, and humans are what they are, weak, despicable, strong, admirable? It all depends on the situation and when the tables are turned we sometimes get to play the villains too.
posted by ilana at 8:49 a.m.
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