Last night we were the way we usually are--sitting on the couch directed at the TV, wondering what the hell happened to the day. We were watching the movie, “The Visitor.” (Highly recommended—I loved it) While watching I had my laptop and was trying to build a site with a very tight deadline (of now) and Dave desperately trying to keep his eyes open while we watch one of “my” movies. We heard a loud knock at the door and both looked at each other. It was after 11.
Dave got up and answered the door and I listened. It was a teenage boy asking to use our phone because his friend was passed out drunk. Dave said yeah and brought him our cordless to use outside on the porch. I went and got our cell phones and tucked them in my sweat shirt pocket. I imagined the boy actually being a psycho (friends out on the lawn) who would come into the house, rob us, and whatever else and now he had our phone. I would be ready.
I listened to him talking on the phone. He clearly wasn’t friends with whoever he was trying to help. He dialed a number and asked if they knew the boy passed out on the street. He thanked Dave for the phone and walked away slowly. I asked Dave where the boy was and he said, “I don’t know.. somewhere on the street.” I went back out and called to the former axe murder as if he were one of my sons young friends. “Excuse me, does your friend need help?” He said not really and pointed. The boy was lying on the corner of our property (outside the fence).
There was a girl standing near him. They couldn’t be more than 16 years old. They needed help.
I shut the door and called 911. The operator asked me to tell the kids not to move him, and make sure he was breathing, stay with him until the ambulance arrived so if he threw up, someone could roll him over to his side.
Dave put on his jacket and went out there to keep an eye out. As it turns out, the conscience boy and girl weren’t really his friends. They had gone to his rescue when they saw him ditched by his actual friends, crawling on all fours, repeating that he lived on my street. These two kids brought him and all his stuff (backpack & bike) over several blocks to our street. I should point out that my neighborhood is full of steep hills--it was a big deal. Then, they went to a strangers house and tried to call people in order to help him. Those are some great kids.
The ambulance, first responder, and police arrived. The paramedic asked him questions like, “when’s your birthday?” Apparently he was born December 2009. The paramedic kept repeating to the boy, “You’re not in trouble. But, you’ve got a pretty good cut on your chin and we need to get you to the hospital and fix you up.” He then looked up at my husband and I and said, “Everybody’s got their first time eh? That’s why I don’t drink gin anymore” and smiled.
I instantly liked this paramedic.
As the kids were recounting their story to the police officer it occurred to me where he might live. Being on this block and outside with my young children on a constant basis, I see the kids in the neighborhood and pretty much know where they live and who their parents are. If this was my son on someone’s lawn, I’d want them to help him. I then wondered if he was the new tenant in the house across the street from me. It’s mostly a single woman that I see coming in and out of the apartment but I just recently saw a teenage boy going in and out. I got closer and called out to the police officer that I was 99% sure he lived in that house, and pointed. The police officer had this look on his face like, “That dark one over there where everyone’s asleep? You want me to go over there?” I wouldn’t want to do it either but I’m thinking, “Hey mister big tough police officer, this is kinda your job.”
They took the boy away in the ambulance. He does live across the street from me. His mother wasn’t home but the poor old Greek (barely speaks any English) landlady came out to identify him.
The paramedic was right—everyone does have their first time. The important thing would be that this be the time the boy learns.
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