Death of a Nightingale

CHAPTER 11: THE REAL WORLD

The call ends so abruptly. It takes my breath away. One moment we banter back and forth. Dark and a little morbid, but it brought butterflies into my stomach. The next she makes me believe she'll die tonight and hangs up. I'm still reeling and cannot stop thinking about her.

The clever sparing of words. It made me smile in a way I haven't in a very long time. Immortal. Sure. It's silly and obviously fabricated. But it's also clever and exciting and new. A vampire. Her imagination made my night. I pictured a girl, with blue eyes and long, blonde hair with a cape and a red collar. Absurdly large fangs and a weird hissing sound. Vampire.

I wonder if she keeps up this game in other areas of her life or if it's just a wild coping mechanism. They teach us about those. As counselors. There are so many. People do all sorts of things to escape reality. I don't even blame them anymore. It's such a divisive world. If becoming a character in Dungeons & Dragons gets you through the day, great. If you believe your superpowers will kick in any second, amazing. I hope they are really cool ones. If you believe your intuition can summon the dead or your dreams tell you the future, all wonderful. The vampire thing is a new one to me though. So props for being unique.

I feel so bad for chuckling a few times. Despite my training and experience, somehow I couldn't keep a straight face. I hope that didn't set her off. But I don't think it did. Somehow while talking, she made ME open up. I think that surprised me the most. I haven't talked about Dad's death in a long time.

Ever. I don't talk about his death. I'm just mad at him. I stew in that feeling. And to be super honest, instead of getting therapy, I give it. Essentially. It's my very own form of reality escape. Talk about the good things he did. Avoid that day at all costs. Ignore his illness and his pain leading up to it and ignore my pain about all of it.

So she's a vampire. Cool. I understand completely.

The thing I don't understand is her hanging up. She tells me sweetly that she'll "try again" and hangs up. It took me several seconds to understand what was happening and to follow my own protocol. When someone threatens to harm themselves or others in a call with us, we HAVE TO call the police. No exceptions.

So I did. I told them about the person I saw on the opposite roof and that I thought she was the caller. I told them I saw her fall.

And now I'm standing here, on the street with EMTs and a firetruck. Two police officers are as confused by my call as I am. There is no body. The street is wet and glistening. It's frigid and the air stings a little bit. Everyone is just a little bit grumpy to have to be out here.

"Are you sure you saw her jump?" The younger of the two officers asks me again and I tell him with conviction that yes, I saw someone spread their arms and let themselves fall.

"So, not a jump." He clarifies.

Like that's the part we should get hung upon. Fall, jump, at about eight stories dead, is dead.

"Maybe she just walked it off?" I offer, but I hear it sounding quite hollow as it's being spoken.

Our little, grumpy group collectively looks up. High up.

"Ma'am, that's highly unlikely." The older officer chimes in, trying to refrain from the word 'crazy' in his mind.

I nod. He's not wrong.

His radio chimes. It's the EMT who checked the slick roof.

"Sir, nobody up here. All clear."

Ah, ok. No one hiding up there either.

"You know, honey, with the rain coming down on the old windows like that, I'm sure it could've looked like some sort of figure."

He just 'honeyd' me and I don't appreciate it. I know he's trying to be sweet, but it feels condescending. But what's the point in saying anything?

"You always work the night shift?" The younger one asks.

"Most of the time."

"Maybe it would be good to switch it up. See some sunlight."

He pats my arm and I have no idea what to make of that gesture. Can I get arrested for swatting away a police officer? I don't swat but ruefully smile.

"Maybe," I say.

I look up again as they start to wrap up the show. Only heavy, full raindrops. No vampires are falling from the sky.

The older officer lingers before hopping into his car and asks one last time.

"Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. The morning shift has already arrived, I'll go home and sleep. All better tomorrow, right?"

He smiles with that caring, kind dad expression that reminds me of my father. So sweet and sometimes so clueless.

They drive off and the night goes quiet again. Peaceful.

Only the window lights reflect on the street.

And Kyle's moving shadow up in my office.

Kyle is the morning shift and he came in early to cover me reporting this. Even he looks concerned. I have lost my marbles. However many I had remaining.

With a heavy sigh, I mount my bike and slowly roll down the street. I barely glance down the alley, afraid to spot a shadow of a woman who isn't really there. Maybe they are right. Maybe I do need some sunshine.