Don't Judge a Book by Its Cover (12 page)

“I promise,” I said, believing every word she said. We were silent for the next few minutes. I broke the silence with a simple statement that apparently was the perfect thing to say. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Thank you!” She was quiet for a moment. “These are high stakes situations. These are people’s
lives
that we’re talking about.” And I believed her. There was no question in my mind. None whatsoever.

We got to Bill’s house with about fifteen minutes to spare, so my mom had me drive past at a normal speed for a car on that road at that time of night. While I drove, she was studying the layout of the place, trying to take in every detail. Where were there buildings? Where were there obstacles? Where were there obvious footpaths? Was the driveway clear? Was there anyplace that was sheltered between the house and the road? So many things.

She had me turn around about a mile up the road, wait a minute, and then drive back the other way doing exactly the same thing. She again studied the place intently, this time focusing more on the house itself. It was an old farm house, a relatively small one. There were two stories as well as signs of a basement. There were lights on in what was likely the living room on the main level. There was also a light in a window upstairs on the second floor, on the right. As I drove past she leaned way around to try to get a view of the back of the house. The way the road curved, and the fact that it was winter so there were no leaves on the trees to block the view, she was able to get a complete lay of the land. There was a light on in the back of the house, in what was likely the kitchen, as well as another room right next to it—probably the dining room.

It was all happening. This was really happening. I wanted to freak out. I wanted to panic. My instinct was to dive into a small, safe place and keep my head down, but that wasn’t going to happen. My days of being a turtle and pulling back inside my shell ended tonight. Bill was in trouble. I loved Bill. He loved me. It was my job to help him. It was my responsibility. We hadn’t known each other very long, but we loved each other. We were family in some way, and family took care of one another, regardless of the risks or the difficulty.

Well out of sight of the house my mom had me stop the car and turn around. We were pointed back toward Bill’s house, but she had me simply park by the side of the road. I didn’t know why, but a moment later I saw the headlights of another car come up behind us. Oh, right, my dad was coming too. I had completely forgotten about that little fact.

That car, my dad’s car, stopped behind us. He left his car running but hopped out to check on us. My mom gave him a shorthand briefing on what she had seen and what she saw as the potential problem points. I had never seen this type of interaction between them. I was in a bit of shock.

Several additional cars appeared and parked behind my dad’s car. I lost count finally of how many cars I had seen arrive. At 7:55, my dad stood beside my mom’s car, with me still behind the wheel. A huge number of men and women gathered around us. I saw men I’d known my whole life. I saw small men. I saw big men. I saw my uncles. I saw a couple of aunts. I saw the minister from the church. I saw a cop I didn’t recognize. I saw an old man I’d seen but didn’t know. Where had all these people come from, and how had they all known to come to this specific place at this exact time?

My dad spoke to the group, giving them a quick summary of the who, the what, the why. My mom recapped what she had seen and her best estimates of things. At eight o’clock exactly, we all got back into our cars and drove up the road with our headlights off. By prearrangement we all stopped in front of the house, but I had pulled far enough past to allow room for the others to stop.

My mom hopped out of the car. She pulled something from her purse and then threw the purse back onto the car seat. She slipped her hands into her coat pockets, looked at me, and said, “We’re on, kiddo. You ready for this? You ready to go help your friend?”

“Absolutely.”

We walked up the snowy and muddy cinder driveway toward the house.

“Remember, do what I say when I say it.”

My dad and a bunch of people were following us. The cop had backed his car into the driveway. I saw for the first time that he had another cop with him. One stayed in the car while the other walked up behind us. Using hand signals, my dad directed people into a variety of positions. Before he had my mom and me go to the front door, he had himself and eight or ten others lined up out of sight on the front porch.

When he nodded to her, my mom said, “Knock on the door. Hard.”

I walked up the steps, raised my fist, and pounded on the door. While it wasn’t in my character or my nature to be aggressive, there was no way anyone could have missed my knock that night.

A moment later a man I did not recognize opened the door.

“Yeah?” he said.

“I’m here to see Bill,” I said.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded in a less than friendly manner.

“A friend of his from school.”

“He’s busy,” the man said as he started to step back and try to close the door.

“Sir!” I said, “It’s really important. I’ll be brief and be out of your way in no time at all.”

He looked pissed.

“I said he’s busy. Didn’t you hear me?” he practically shouted at me.

“I heard you, but I need to see him. It’s a matter of life and death.”

“I don’t give a damn what it’s about. That kid isn’t going anywhere and he isn’t seeing anybody and he isn’t talking to anybody, and that includes you and your life-and-death emergency.”

I caught a glimpse of a very worried Bill off to the side of the living room. He had quietly come down the stairs to see what was going on. Apparently it was quite unusual for anyone to come to their house.

When I saw him I gave him a smile and cheerily said, “Hey, Bill! How ya doin’?”

The man turned around to see what I saw. “Get back up those stairs
now
!” he bellowed.

Bill was frozen in place. It looked like he was sweating bullets, and he appeared to be caught between two polar forces, me on the one hand and his pissed-off dad on the other side.

My mother stepped up into sight and said, “Bill, so good to see you again. Oh, that’s quite a shiner you’ve got.”

The man scowled at us. “He slipped on the ice.”

“Really? I didn’t see any ice. Where?”

“None of your damned business, bitch.”

“Oh, my, such language,” she scolded in middle-aged mom fashion. “Bill, we need to talk to you. Oh, and where’s Patty? I haven’t seen Patty in years. We went to high school together, you know. I’ve known her since she and I were both little girls.” And the old mom was back. She was talking a mile a minute in a giant continuous stream-of-consciousness one-sided conversation. The man was a bit surprised, which was exactly what she was going for.

Another face appeared beside Bill, this time a woman. She looked old, haggard, not at all pretty or even half-alive. “Patty!” my mother shrieked, pushing herself inside the house and walking over to hug her old acquaintance. I immediately followed and stayed glued to her side. With her arms around the woman she pulled her close and said, “Do as I say!” in a quiet but commanding voice. I did the same with Bill at the same moment.

Turning back to the man, my mom and I stood between him and the two other residents of the house. I stood in front of Bill with one hand reached out behind me to firmly hold his sleeve. My mom did exactly the same thing with the woman.

“Patty and Bill. You go grab a few things that you need, and you’re coming with us.”

“What the hell?” the man said.

My mom looked at him very directly and said, “We’re taking them out of this toxic environment. You are a hazard to their health and well-being. It’s very simple.”

“You and what army?” he asked as he crossed his arms across his chest and tried to look ferocious.

He spun around quickly when he heard a voice behind him say, “That would be us.” All the men who had been on the porch had moved into the room, blocking him.

“And us,” another voice said, coming from the other direction.

“Who the hell are you people, and what are you doing in my house?”

“We’re friends,” my mom explained. “And friends look out for friends.” Turning from him, she guided Patty by the arm and said, “Pack a bag.” She walked off with her. By prearranged assignment, I said the same thing to Bill and pushed him upstairs. No words were spoken since no one had a clue what to say in such a situation. All three residents of the house were basically in shock.

I shoved as many of Bill’s few things as I could into a backpack I had over my shoulder. I knew that my mom was doing the same. One minute later we were all headed back down the stairs, each with our assigned charge. The folks in the living room gave us a clear pathway through the living room to the kitchen. Then we had them out the door and walked them toward our car.

We got the woman into the backseat with my mom, and I got back into the front seat with Bill. I started the car and cranked the heat up, but we didn’t move. Our orders were to sit tight for a few minutes while those inside held their intervention. I had no idea what was happening inside the house, and I probably didn’t want to know. There were a lot of men, a fair number of women, and a whole bunch of very pissed-off people in that house at the moment.

My mom turned to look at Bill’s mom and said, “How long has this been going on, Patty?”

She didn’t answer. Using the rearview mirror I could see that she had her head down and a perfectly blank expression on her face.

“What?” I heard the woman say.

“You know very well what I mean. How long has that man been beating you? How long has he been beating your son? How long has this been going on?”

“He just gets a little upset at times. He works hard.”

“We all work hard, Patty, but we don’t take it out on the people closest to us.”

“He works hard,” she tried again.

I looked at Bill, who had an equally neutral expression on his face. I couldn’t read what was going through his head. I couldn’t put myself in his shoes—thank God—and I didn’t know what he was thinking. I hoped above all that he knew he was safe now and that he was loved.

“We’re getting you out of this, both of you. You don’t have to put up with abuse. You are beautiful human beings with sacred worth. No one deserves such treatment. Do you hear me? You do not deserve to be beaten. You deserve respect and love. And that’s what we are going to help you get.”

Bill spoke for the first time. “What’s going on in there?”

I answered. “I don’t know. And I don’t want to know. My dad and some family and friends are having a talk with your dad about showing respect for his family. You’re not in this alone.”

I didn’t realize that five little words could have such impact, but both Bill and his mother started to cry when I said that simple sentence: “You’re not in this alone.”

“Thank you!” I heard Bill choke out from the seat next to me. He had his arms wrapped around his body and was trying to curl up against the car door. I had locked the doors when we got in, so I knew he wasn’t going anywhere. I wanted more than anything to simply slide over to him and wrap my arms around him. I knew it was wrong, but I also knew that it was the right thing to do so I simply did it. I slid across the seat and wrapped my arms around him as he cried and shook. I felt so helpless, but he told me later that what we did seemed like an utter impossibility to him and his mom. They couldn’t conceive of ever getting out of the situation that was their life.

T
HIRTY
-
FIVE
minutes later people started to exit the house. They filed out the door, down the walk, and to their cars. One by one their cars started up, each probably cranking up the heat to try to chase away the cold winter air.

My dad walked up to the window beside my seat and knocked. I let go of Bill and slid over to roll the window down. I looked anxiously at him. He looked exactly the same as he had earlier. He said simply, “We’re done here. Do you two need anything more from the house tonight? We can come back tomorrow and get more things if you think of them.”

Neither of them wanted anything else, so my dad walked back to his car and we all started to head out. We drove to the church that was about a mile from our house. By prearranged plan, there was a car waiting there with another woman prepared to drive Bill’s mother to a safe house half an hour away. I didn’t realize it at the time, but apparently the first twenty-four hours were really tough for people. My mom and dad had been through this before, so they had made plans that the woman would not be left alone for at least that time period.

We hadn’t spoken of it, but it was understood by all that Bill was coming with me. There was no way I was letting him out of my sight, now or ever. Period. There was no sense in anyone even trying to talk me out of that. None. Nada. Don’t waste your breath. You’ll only be wasting your time. He seemed to intuitively understand since he didn’t even try to get out of the car when we stopped to transfer his mother to the waiting car.