Left (Left 1)

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he says.

“Me too.” There’s been no talk of me finding a new place. We both know I’m going to stay.

A knock sounds at the door, and I frown. “Are you expecting someone?”

“No. Stay here with them?”

“Yeah.”

I look at the children who are nearly finished with their sliced apples, graham crackers, and milk. “Let’ s get things cleaned up, so we can start on our homework, okay?”

Phoenix and Deja move to throw away their napkins and place their bowls in the sink while Echo doddles. It’s a typical school day. It’s not that Echo doesn’t follow rules. She simply exists in her own time zone. The challenge we have is getting her attuned to the one the rest of us live on.

“Come on, Ms. Echo. We still have homework to get done today.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I cherish her little voice. They grow so quickly. Soon she won’t sound or look like this. Her little legs swing and I walk over and place a kiss on her forehead. My phone plays. Why the hell is Houston texting me? I pull it out and gasp.

Call the cops. Rain is here. I dial nine-one –one.

“This is Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“Yes, I’m in my home with three small children, and I have a trespasser outside who refuses to leave.”

“I see ma’am. Are you safe?”

“Yes, at the moment I am. I’m inside, but I don’t want the children to be frightened.”

“That’s completely understandable. I want you to stay in that safe location away from the windows and doors. Can you tell me the address?”

I rattle it off to her. “What about the intruder? What do they look like?”

I creep over to the window and peer out of the blinds. “She’s about five feet six inches, with shoulder length brown hair, blue jeans, and a white –t-shirt with flowers on it. She appears to be pregnant. My boyfriend is out there speaking with her now. He’s about 6’2 with dark hair and a beard. He's wearing blue jeans, and a white t-shirt.”

“I have units coming to you now, ma’am. They should reach your destination in the next five minutes.”

“Thank you.”

I get the kids started on their homework. Flashes of crimson and indigo pull me to the curtain. “They’re here.”

“Excellent. I’ll disconnect now.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome.”

The line goes dead. I crack the window and press my ear to the opening to hear what’s being said.

“Ma’am we’re going to have to ask you leave his property.”

“The sidewalk is public domain,” she protests.

“This woman is being filed with child abandonment charges to the three children in this house who have no clue who she is. I don’t want my six-year-olds upset.”

“Ma’am, you can leave voluntarily, or we can escort you. You don’t want to add more trouble to the legalities already in motion.”

“Those are my babies! Mine. That uppity bitch cant' have them.” Rain screams.

“We understand that you’re upset, but I think we can all agree this isn’t going to help anyone, and it’s not healthy for the baby you have on the way.”