Tyler’s outrage vanished.
“No.”
“Did your mom hurt you?”
“Are you afraid of her?”
“No! She’s my mom.”
“Do you have food in the house?”
Tyler pointed dramatically toward the kitchen.
“She’s literally making spaghetti.”
Officer Bruce glanced past me. The smell of garlic and tomato sauce had reached the foyer.
“Are you afraid of her?”
“Okay. Does she stop you from eating when you’re hungry?”
“No.”
“Do you feel unsafe here?”
Tyler scrunched up his face.
“I said no.”
Officer Bruce nodded. “Okay. There’s no emergency here. Tell me what you needed the police to fix.”
Tyler answered without hesitation.
“The ice cream.”
“Do you feel unsafe here?”
I wanted to slide beneath the welcome mat.
Instead of laughing, Officer Bruce sat on the edge of the porch step.
“If you call us because you need help, Tyler, we have to take what you say seriously.”
