Sirens
The sirens outside kept me awake, they always did. Every day we would hear of another death; another shooting, another stabbing, another… something. This time, though, was different. My father, mother, and I live in a city called Bloomston. It wasn’t a “good” city, but it wasn’t a “bad” city either, but I lived in the so-called “bad neighborhood.” The neighborhood where all the desperate people lived. My family wasn’t desperate. In fact, we were probably the richest family in the town. My father was the head pastor of a megachurch, and my mother was the CEO of an online tech support company. Of course, we never told anyone that we were rich. We had moved here because my father felt that God was leading him here. At least that’s what he said. I hated it when we moved here. I always hated moving, but this was the worst. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t talk without saying something that would get me jumped after school. I kept to myself and never made any friends. I wished that we would go back to living in the suburbs somewhere out of the large city, away from the dangers of possibly getting shot on the way home from school or work.
“Julian,” My mom interrupted my thoughts. I sat up in bed and knew, just by the way she stood, that something was wrong.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “What’s going on?”
My mom came over and sat on the edge of the bed. The sirens outside seemed to fade away.
“Your father…” She stopped while another wave of tears came down her cheek. “Your father never came home from church.”
“He’s still there?” I asked, already knowing the answer. My mom shook her head.
“He’s missing.” I never knew two words could hurt so much. I stared at my mom, speechless. “There are cops downstairs that would like to talk to you.”
“I…”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” my mom said. I shook my head.
“I’ll talk to them,” I said. I feared that my father was already dead, but I didn’t want to lose hope. I got out of bed and hugged my mom. I went down the stairs quietly and looked into the dining room. There were three cops there. Two were sitting at the table, and the other was looking out the window. The one at the window was tall and light-skinned. I assumed he was waiting for my dad to come home and walk in the door smiling, like he always did. The two sitting at the table were black, like me. I walked into the room, and the one closest to me stood.
“Julian, I’m Officer Ness,” he said. He held out his hand, and I shook it. “Please sit.”
I sat down at the table and started playing with the tablecloth. “What do you want to ask me?”
“I’m Officer Prince,” the other black officer said. “My friend by the window is Officer Williams.”
“Okay,” I said.
“When was the last time you saw your dad?” Officer Ness asked. I looked up at him. He was sitting at the head of the table.
“This morning. He was sitting right there,” I said, pointing to Ness’s chair. “I was getting ready for school, and he told me to sit at the table to eat. He knew I was late, but he always says that rushing will only make you later. I never really understood that.”
“Getting ready for school?” Officer Williams turned. “It’s Saturday.”
“I take a college course on Saturdays,” I said. “I’m studying to be a lawyer. My dad always says that if I work hard enough, I’ll achieve my dreams. My dream is to save people, just not the way he does it.”
“What do you mean?” Ness asked.
“My dad is a pastor,” I replied. Officer Ness nodded. It was clear to me that they didn’t actually read the file on my dad. “This is just another case for you.”
I stood up.
“What?” Officer Prince asked, standing.
“You don’t care for my dad or my family,” I said, raising my voice. “It’s just another mystery case for you to solve during your work day.”
“We do care about you and your family,” Officer Prince said. “Please sit down.”
“I’d rather stand,” I said, taking a deep breath.
“Please Julian, we’re trying to help you,” Officer Williams said. I crossed my arms, and Officer Williams sighed. “Does your father have any enemies in the area?”
“He was a pastor!” I said. “No one hated him.”
“That’s not true,” my mother said. “When we first moved here, we used to get hate mail from some gangs. They were warnings.”
“Do you have the letters?” Williams asked. My mom shook her head.
“Do you think someone would have taken him?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” Broady said.
“Do you think he could have run away?” Officer Prince said.
“Why?” My mom asked. “Why would my husband run away from me and my son?”
“What were his relationships like?” Williams asked.
“My father loves me and my mom more than anything in the world except maybe God. Although he always says his love for God is different from his love for us,” I replied.
“How so?” Prince asked.
“He would say that loving God was hard because he couldn’t see him,” I said, sitting at the table again. These officers were making me exhausted with their stupid questions.
“The man was faithful?” Ness asked. I ignored the fact that he called my father “the man.”
“My husband is faithful.” My mom responded. “He’s faithful to me, to my son, to the church, to God, and to everyone else. He’s harmless.”
“And an easy target,” Williams said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I whispered.
“People don’t kill the people who fight back; they kill the ones who won't. I’m saying that if they knew your father was harmless, he could be an easy target,” Williams explained. Suddenly, the front door opened. All three cops took out their guns. Ness was standing in front of me, so I couldn’t see who it was.
“It’s okay,” It was my dad’s voice. “It’s me.”
Just as the officers put their guns down, I heard three gunshots. My mother screamed, and we both ducked down. I crawled over to my mom and heard a thump. I looked over to see my dad’s body fall forward. Officer Prince jumped over my dad’s body and ran outside. Officer Williams kneeled down to my dad to feel a pulse.
“I’m sorry,” he said to us. “He’s gone.”
I will never forget the sound of my mom’s screams and cries. The sound of her pleading and praying to God to bring her husband back. I tried to hold back my tears; I had to stay strong. Looking back on it, I wish I hadn’t held them back.
“If a grown man never cries, there is something wrong with him,” my father always said. What seemed like a lifetime later, we heard the sirens of an ambulance. We were taken to the hospital because the doctors were worried about the trauma we might have. We were in the hospital for a few hours. I was in the waiting room when a nurse came over and asked my name. I told her.
“Can you remember what happened?” The nurse asked.
“My father was shot three times right in front of me!” I yelled, surprising the nurse and drawing eyes toward me. “Do you think I would forget that so quickly?”
“No, I’m sorry,” The nurse said, quickly walking away. I stared out the window and slowly drifted off to sleep.
The dream I had was more of a memory than a dream. I was sitting in my house on the couch, holding an ice pack to my eye.
“You got in a fight?” My dad asked. Pacing back and forth in front of me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “He was calling me names. I had to do something! I had to fight him.”
“No, you did not!” My dad said, his voice rising a little. I looked away from him as he sat next to me. He took a deep breath and continued talking. “Have you ever heard of forgiveness?”
“Dad, I know what forgiveness is,” I said.
“Clearly not. Otherwise, you would have forgiven that kid.”
“You would have wanted to fight him too.”
“Maybe, but I wouldn't because I know that God calls us to forgive. So that’s what we must do,” my dad said. “I’m not going to yell at you anymore, but I want you to promise me something.”
“What?” I asked.
“If something happens to you, me, or your mother, if someone hurts us, just forgive them. Yes, maybe if it’s something really bad, they will end up spending time in jail, but still forgive them.”
“I won’t just be able to forget about it,” I said. “Especially if it’s really bad.”
“I’m not asking you to just forget about whatever they did to you; I’m asking you to forgive,” my dad said. “Will you do it?”
I looked over at him, and he didn’t look mad or annoyed; he looked a little sad.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll try.”
“You are a strong and brave man, Julian,” he said, scotting closer to me. “Now let me look at that eye.”
I woke up suddenly to the sound of Officer Williams sitting next to me. I looked over at him.
“Your father had four stab wounds in his back before he was shot,” Williams said. “We are tracking down the people who did it right now. They will probably get a life sentence.”
“Seven,” I said suddenly. Willaims looked at me, confused. “Four stab wounds and three gunshots. That’s seven wounds in total. My father always told me seven was a holy number.”
“Your father was right,” Williams said.
“When you find those people, can you tell them something for me?” I asked. Williams looked over at me and nodded. “Tell them that I forgive them. And tell them that my father forgives them because I know that up in heaven he does. And I know he’d want me to forgive them as well.”
“I’ll tell them,” Williams said, patting my shoulders.
An hour later, my mom and I were in a hotel right outside of that “bad neighborhood.”
“Get some rest,” My mom said even though she knew I wouldn’t sleep. She kissed me goodnight and went into the bathroom. I climbed into bed and faced the window. I couldn’t sleep. We were still near all the noise, and the sirens outside kept me awake, they always did.
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