911

Working on this novel has me up late, so it wasn’t strange for me to be turning in around 3am the other night. What was strange was being in the living room in my skivvies, getting ready to turn off the lights, and seeing some guy through the blinds climbing up on the fire escape outside the first-floor studio where Cara and I live.

He heads on up the apartment above and I’m thinking to myself (and giving him the benefit of the doubt) that perhaps this guy lives with our neighbor upstairs and just perhaps, just maybe, he’s locked himself out.

Then he opens his mouth.

“WHYYY?!” (Repeat three times with dramatic pause shattering silence in the neighborhood).

And he pounds on the window.

I’m on my phone immediately, except my cell phone is off and I have to wait until it boots up. Time comes to a grinding halt.

Finally. I’m on the phone with the police.

“Yes, There’s a guy on the fire escape and he’s distraught, I think there’s been a break up or something.”

The police take my info and tell me a squad car is on the way.

Now Cara is up.

“This is so scary” she says. And right when she says that we hear him get through the window, and there’s crashing and screams and Cara is getting dressed and I’m throwing on some pants and we head to the front door. We’re going upstairs and I have no idea what the hell is going to happen when we get up there—because we have no choice but to go up there—but I’m totally expecting violence, so I turn to Cara before we head out the door:

“Are you ready for this?”

I don’t even have a shirt on.

And we’re out the door and up the landing and I’m pounding on the door and it opens immediately and our neighbor is crying and scared shitless, and without even thinking we grab her and I point at the guy who’s standing behind her like a deer caught in the headlights and say:

“I just called 911.”

And I shut the door.

And we take her downstairs and the guy doesn’t come out. We take her into our place and set her down. Cara stays with her while I head out into the foyer to see if the police are there yet, and they have him already. He’s in the vestibule and there are four of them on him, and he looks at me and I look at him and then head back to the apartment and tell Cara and our neighbor the police are here. I head back out again and now they’re in the vestibule, they’re having words with him. It’s loud and I notice not a single one of other neighbors is out. Not a one.

One of the cops looks at me and I nod, it’s some kind of signal and he understands.

I head back inside.

My knees are shaking.

The police call me back and say they’re on their way, which makes no sense.

“They’re already here.” I say.

They want my apartment number.

Our neighbor is a completely distraught. She crying and saying that she broke up with him months ago.

“You just never know about anyone.” She says, adding “It makes you wonder if it’s even worth bothering to try and date anyone because they could totally be nuts.”

It’s not her fault.

A minute later there’s a knock, and there’s three police. We let them in and they start asking questions.

Then those police leave and more come in, and one of them pulls me aside and asks me some questions. They tell our neighbor that the guy is in serious trouble, breaking and entering, attempted assault (she has marks on her arms), he won’t be allowed to call, to email, nor will his friends. I’ve never seen police act this fast and efficiently. It reminds me of how pathetic Seattle police were, how they showed up late and always patronized you, like you were the problem when you asked for their help. Totally different here. Consummate professionals.

They take pictures of her arm. They want to go upstairs and see her place.

The guy is in custody. He’s gone.

Her door is locked.

We try to find the super but no one answers his door. Once again, not a single neighbor has come out to see what’s happened.

One of the police has to climb the fire escape to get into her place.

Once inside they go over her apartment with her while Cara and I wait outside.

More questions. A few jokes.

“I need to get back to the station so I can get this metal splinter out of my ass from climbing on that fire escape” says one of them.

Then they leave.

Six police total showed up. It helps we live near a precinct.

We talk to our neighbor for a while. Her ex had been drinking before he came over. Two bunnies come out from behind her furniture. We talk bunnies. We talk psycho ex’s. I introduce myself. She already knows Cara.

She gives us a hug and we head home.

What’s weird is all this totally relates to the novel I’m writing. It even starts out this way. Sorta.