LIW&B Chapter 10

Officer Roy Bosen sat in his patrol car picking his cuticles with a thumb tack. It was a nervous habit that left his fingers scabbed and shredded. But it kept his concentration in slow times and stifled the boredom he deplored. Officer Roy appreciated slow shifts like the one just ending. They were few and far between. Slow meant safe which was alright by Roy. He considered himself a peace officer more than police.

Most of the sunrise was blocked by a billboard advertising a local Chrysler dealer. The speed radar beeped calmly as random vehicles passed. Roy had only written three citations in as many hours, all for speeding. It was a slow shift on a slow night. Roy was about to call his wife and ask if she wanted him to pick up breakfast when the radio called.

"Car 312, please respond." Static ended the transmission.
"Car 312 responding," Roy answered, "I'm gettin' ready to bring it in."

The dispatcher requested Officer Bosen to meet another officer for assistance. It was an easy call, something he could just hit on the way in. The officer in need of assistance was a social services assignment. They had to pick up a kid from a bad home and transport him to the residential treatment center for boys. There were no more orphanages. The term "orphanage" was too negative to keep them open.

Apparently, the kid lived at the city dump with an guy in his 80s. It sounded like a hobo and a runaway had taken up a place to live together. The old man attacked a social worker and missed a date in court. It was an easy assignment, but a dire one. The boy's welfare was in danger. He needed a safe, secure home. He needed a residential treatment center to tell him he wasn't an orphan.

"Just some old guy in his 80s, huh?" Officer Bosen remarked, "I guess I can do without a bullet proof vest." Roy chuckled to himself, arrogant and foolish.

Officer Bosen would never forget that morning. He would question his integrity and doubt his own reasons for choosing his career. There would be an onslaught a bullet proof vest couldn't defend.

Officer Bosen met his partner in a parking lot two miles from the dump. The other officer was younger and less sensitive to the civilians they served. Roy could tell the type from the marine hair cut. This officer was a police whose duty was to catch criminals. Roy's duty was to protect civilians, same duty with a different attitude. The other officer had no remorse from their tragic visit to the city dump. He was eager to bang on the door.

What first struck Roy was that Mel was not a hobo. Mel looked like a hobo, traveled and worn with a face red from years of wine, but the trailer was his home. Cluttered with ashes and bottles, pancake mix and syrup, this was the man's home. It was also the boy's home. The boy was named Happy. This name is what struck Roy second.

Mel promised himself he would drown his emotion on the fateful day. When the state came to take his son he refused to taint the memory with sorrowful feelings out of control. Mel wanted to see his son smile one last time, not separate in tears. He need something positive to cling to in moments of regret and despair. A treacherous backlog of pain would soon arrive. The old man would need reasons to live.

Mel opened the door and faced the two officers on his porch. He looked them in the eye and nodded his head. He spoke to his son as if he were late for the school bus.

"Go pack your bag like I told ya before, Happy," Mel instructed with immeasurable calm. His body started to tingle and numb like he was entering a coma. "It looks like today's Moving Day."

Happy pried the fork from his fingers which had submerged in maple syrup. He was taking his last glorious bites of his father's last pancake. Soon, Happy would long for such ignorant bliss.
"I'm moving today?" Happy asked with enthusiasm. "Where am I moving to?"

It was an excellent question. Mel stepped aside the doorway so Happy could see the two police officers and vice versa. Happy and the officers looked at each other. Officer Bosen received a brief image of his own son.
"You're moving with these two cops," Mel answered. "So wash your hands and grab your bags."

Mel suddenly felt like a landlord instead of a father. He cussed with the disappointing emotion, the only hostility he displayed all morning. The young police officer heard every word. Officer Bosen was too troubled to notice.

Happy did as we told without further questions. He washed his plate in the sink and walked away to pack his clothes. Mel never invited the officers inside, but he did start conversation.

"I reckon a lawyer wouldn't help me none at this point," Mel guessed. "Is that right?"
"That's right," the young officer said.
"You always want to have a lawyer, Mr. Stotch," Roy corrected.
Mel stopped to pull a cigar end out of his pocket and light it up. He puffed and exhales clouds inside the kitchen. Mel caught his stride and returned to the conversation.

"Can I get a free lawyer from the state?" Mel asked.
"Not in this case," Officer Bosen answered. "Only defendants get court appointed attorneys. You're not charged with a crime."
Mel exhaled another cloud and thought it over.
"Well, maybe you should charge me with somethin'," Mel considered, "And give me a chance to fight for my son."
Officer Bosen felt kicked in the shin. The young officer took it as a sign of war.
"The best lawyer in the world won't help you fight for your son," the young officer spit. "This place is shithole. No judge would keep a kid here."
Officer Bosen saw the hurt the young officer didn't. There was no chivalry in this duty.

The anger and rage for the old man had come and gone. Self pity and acceptance were ready to replace them. Mel just smiled and winked at the officers and puffed on his cigar. He didn't say another word until Happy appeared with two bags.

The third peculiarity to strike Officer Bosen that morning was the exchange between the old man and the boy named Happy. Mel plucked the cigar from his mouth and tossed it past the officers into the yard. He turned back to his son and patted him on the head. The pat on the head became a squeeze of the shoulder. Then Mel pulled Happy in for a hug. There were no tears. Mel stayed true to his promise. The hug lasted less than ten seconds.

"You're grown now, Happy," the old man said without conviction. "You can't just goof off around here forever." After the statement Mel leaned in close and whispered another lesson. Happy nodded. Officer Bosen wondered what Mel told him. Roy nudged the younger officer to silence when he started tapping his impatient boot on the porch step.

Their embrace over and the advice given, Mel stood up straight again to face his son. Happy now equaled his height if he hadn't surpassed it. Against the odds, Happy was strong and healthy. Against the odds, Mel raised him well. He extended his hand and shook farewell with his son.

Mel's lack of emotion served his purpose. Happy smiled at the officers and extended his hand. He held no resentment towards them. They were taking him on a trip. Happy felt excited and looked forward to fun. Officer Bosen was very familiar with the resident treatment centers for children. He knew they were not places a child should be excited to visit. Officer Bosen felt guilty to return the boy's good cheer. He felt guilty to take part in such a lie.

Tension hung in the air, heavy and bulging with words unspoken. Mel almost suffocated from swallowed screams. The peace was unnatural. Everything felt wrong. Mel placed a withered, spotted hand on Happy's back to caress him and soothe that which he couldn't soothe in himself. At last, he gently pushed Happy forward, away from the innocence he had worked tirelessly to preserve. Happy stepped into the morning sunlight to join the police officers.
"OK, I guess we can go," Happy beamed.
Officer Bosen swallowed a scream of his own.

The last disturbance to strike Officer Bosen struck the young officer as well. Roy had seen some cats wandering the yard when their patrol cars entered. He saw a few more walking up the steps to the trailer. They were just cats in a junkyard, no big deal.

As Happy and the officers descended the short steps, cries called out from all around. Officer Bosen looked back to Mel who remained silent in the doorway. He froze, bringing Happy and the other officer to a halt. They were surrounded. And it looked like they might not make it out.

Cats were everywhere. During the short time Happy took to pack his bags, the cats had been gathering, generations of cats, years of litters that had multiplied and wiped out decades of rats. They covered the ground between the trailer and the squad cars. Cats were mounted on ledges of fill dirt and mountains of garbage. At least a hundred crept over Mel's pickup truck. At least twice that many now covered and swarmed on the roof, some dangling over the doorway and Mel's head. They sensed the danger of their master and friend and now called for his release.

Hundreds of cats, silent and stealth, all lending their voices to a deafening symphony of protest. It was frightening, eerie, and born of primal love. Mel would have been as shocked as the officers had he not been so stubbornly paralyzed. The caterwauling overwhelmed the air. The voices were desperate and whining, orphans crying for one of their own. The images, the sounds, the silent screaming were too much for Officer Bosen to bear. He shut his eyes tight fearing madness. The young officer moved his hand to the butt of his gun.

The cats moved in, leaping from the trailer roof and the pickup truck, galloping down hills of tires and trash. The mass of fur and tabby stripes connected and surged like a flood. The flood followed Happy and his escorts, engulfing them and shielding their path. They were human branches floating through a fur stream from a bird's eye view.

None of the cats attacked, only growled and beckoned Happy's release, a thousand feline eyes screaming demands. The young officer almost kicked an adult out of his path in panic. He raised his boot and frowned at the animal. The crying stopped as quickly as it started. The adult swooped closer, daring the officer to kick. The young officer looked to Roy Bosen for guidance, but only found fear and disapproval. His boot returned to the ground in surrender. The catcalls recommenced.

Officer Bosen was certain the cats would flood their squad car as soon as they opened the door. They made it to the cars without injury. Happy continued to be elated with the events. Cats flowed between his legs, taking their last opportunities to rub against them with affection. Happy did his best to say good bye to each one.

"Bye One Eighty Four! Bye Six Fifty One! Bye Ninety Nine! Bye Whiskers!" Happy continued to name each one. The officers didn't attempt to stop the boy. They were powerless to stop him.

The only moment of sadness for Happy came just before he entered the car. Happy looked back at his home, his yard. An orchestra of purring, catcalls, and moans vibrated the world. Mel stood looking at him, so far away on the lonely little porch now void of the hundreds of pets that clung to the walls just a minute prior. Mel looked so small and old to Happy. Mel waved his hand to his son which brought the gravity of the situation crashing down. Happy looked at his father, his home, and his friends and realized he was wishing good bye to them all. A terrified truth occurred to him. He turned to the terrified policeman for comfort.

"When am I coming back?" Happy asked. Mel thought he had explained the situation well enough. The old man would've broken his promise and burst into tears had he heard such a question from his son. Officer Bosen didn't feel much better when he answered.
"I don't know if you'll be coming back," he yelled over the demanding crowd. "If you do, it won't be for a long time."
The change this answer brought to Happy's expression would stay with Roy Bosen for the rest of his life. It would be the only moment Officer Bosen doubted his integrity in his professional career. He was breaking up a happy family. He was tearing that family apart.

Officer Bosen put Happy in his car even though the young officer had the duty of driving the boy to the treatment center. Happy got in quietly and without incident. Once safe in the car from the angry, furry mob, Officer Bosen got on the radio and told the young officer he would take it from there. The young officer didn't fight it. He was happy to leave the yard with his life. Something unnatural had taken place. Even the young officer's arrogance couldn't blind him to the fact.

As they left the yard and entered the main highway into the city, away from the intimidating chorus, the tension dissolved. Officer Bosen found himself sweating. The easy assignment had scared him to death, both physically and morally. He needed to return to reality, the pleasant idea he had known just an hour before. He engaged the boy in his back seat, hoping to escape this impossible dream.

"I hope you're all right," Officer Bosen offered. "All of this can pretty tough to take."
"I'm OK," Happy was glad to answer. "I never left without my dad before."
Officer Bosen looked at the boy in his rear view mirror. He couldn't help but to think of his son.
He didn't know what else to say. When he did say something, he regretted it instantly.
"It looks like you two are very close," Bosen admitted.

"What are we gonna do now?" Happy asked.

Officer Bosen didn't answer immediately. He thought about his words. He constructed them carefully to provide a message of hope and peace. He spoke as seriously as if to his own son. Later he would pray he would never have to repeat a lie of such magnitude. Many sleepless nights would echo the lies in his head.

"Well, now we're gonna get you with other kids. We're gonna make it so you have lots of friends and can play games with them whenever you want." Roy faced the road as he spoke. He couldn't look at the boy in the mirror.
"Then you'll start going to school and making more friends. You'll get educated and uh," Roy hesitated looking for the best colors to paint his lies, "before you know it you'll be having more fun than you ever did."

"Do all kids do this when they grow up?" Happy asked.

Bosen cursed himself for taking the boy in his car. The curse was only selfish. As Bosen spoke, he knew he had done the right thing. This car ride might be the most important in the boy's life. Bosen was certain the other officer wouldn't share such compassion.

"Yeah," Roy lied, "All kids get the day when they leave home to start their new lives. Some kids new lives are better than their old ones. There's all kinds of things that can happen. You might even get a new mom."

The last sentence lingered in the air, uncomfortable to both the officer and the child. Officer Bosen wasn't sure what he meant. He hoped it would pass without comment.

"My mom was weak," Happy commented. "That's why she gave me to my dad."
Officer Bosen tried to let it pass, but Happy continued, "My dad is the best in the world."

Roy felt his eyes moisten with tears. His own son had said the same thing and Roy cherished the memory. He thought of the weak old man at the trailer missing these words, missing this memory, and it was too much to take.

"That's wonderful," Bosen choked out. He cleared his throat to maintain his voice. "I'm sure your dad would love to hear that." Bosen looked in the mirror, hoping Happy wouldn't see him wipe his eyes. Happy only stared back at him intently, seeing the tears and all.

"Happy," Bosen spoke. He pushed his words out, stealing any chance for them to falter. "You're a good kid. I know kids and I can see that." The peace officer had to stop and inhale. Any emotion Mel had spared collected deep in Officer Bosen's stomach.
"You're going to meet a lot of good kids and make some great friends for life. You're going to go to school and learn a lot and grow up to be smart, happy, and successful. You got nothing to worry about. Everything's going to be OK." Bosen spoke these words for himself more than for the boy.

Happy saw the officer breaking down, but didn't ask why. He only listened and added what he could. "I'm already Happy," he said with a smile. "I'll always be Happy. My dad named me so."

Roy pulled the car over to the shoulder of the highway. He had to get a grip on his feelings.
"Excuse me, Happy," he said without looking in the mirror, "I have to get some air."
Roy got out of the car and shut the door. He stood beside his car, wiping his eyes and nose. He gave himself a minute to breathe and pull himself together. He had to know the boy would be OK. He had to know he was doing the right thing. Roy got back in the car, ready to console Happy and himself.

"Look Happy," Roy began, "You have to trust me. Everything's gonna be all right."
The peace officer sat in the front seat facing the tall, bald child in the back seat.
"Life ain't always easy. You're gonna meet a bunch of people that want to hurt you. Some people won't be friendly and some friends will turn out not to be friends. But in the end you'll find people that love you, people that will be good to you."
He couldn't separate Happy from his own boy. He wanted to pull Happy close and give him a hug.

"Just trust me, OK. Whenever folks are bad to you, just remember those folks that are good. When other kids at the treatment center are mean to you, just think of your dad. Think of your cats!" The image of the cats would scar Roy forever.
"Everything in life turns out good in the end. Do you trust me about that, Happy? Can you trust me and remember that?"
Officer Bosen looked at the young boy, pleading for his understanding, pleading for his own solace.

"Sure, I trust you," Happy obliged. He still didn't see the reason for such concern. It was a warm summer morning, the beginning of a beautiful day. The simplicity was deafening and necessary.

Roy Bosen sighed in relief. "Good," he thanked the boy, "I'm glad you do." Officer Bosen continued breathing and pulled the car back onto the road.

The rest of the trip was silent. Officer Bosen parked the car in front of the residential treatment center. He opened the door for Happy and they both entered the lobby. Youths of all ages could be seen wandering the area behind the registration desk. No matter the age, the all shared a physical trait, a look of betrayal. Some reacted with anger, some with fear and retreat. All the kids wore the same invisible scar, something Bosen didn't see in his recruit. The love and care he preached in the car was not present here.

The registration nurse took the information from Officer Bosen. Soon after, a expressionless case worker arrived to escort Happy to his dorm. Officer Bosen couldn't help feeling responsible for what looked like a horrible decision. Before the case worker took Happy's bags, Officer Bosen gave him the hug he had held back.

"Just remember what I said in the car, OK," Bosen asked. "If it gets bad it will always get better. Just trust me on that." Happy nodded, still smiling and content.

Bosen felt so obligated. He would never have fathomed such an undeniable parental drive. He had taken this boy from what had seemed to be a loving father, just unfit per standards of the state. He tried to conjure some final words that he would fit his own son if facing the same end.

All he could recall was Mel whispering into Happy's ear before he stepped off the porch. What advice had he given? What parting thoughts were found appropriate for a boy being stolen from his father? Officer Bosen didn't want to intrude, but he would go mad unless he knew.

"Happy," Bosen asked as the boy followed the case worker down the hall, "What did your dad whisper in your ear before you left? Can you tell me?" The officer was begging.

"Sure," Happy agreed, calling his answer as he walked away, "He said to never trust a cop."

Happy turned the corner and disappeared before Officer Bosen exhaled.