Darkness

Last night I picked up a friend to carpool to a monthly dinner date with a lovely group of ladies I have come to know.

As we drove along a dark road on the edge of town, the headlights picked out a boy running alongside the road. He frantically flagged us down. Sobbing, he begged to be let into the car, to please be let into the car, his father was going to hit him.

A second boy, somewhat more coherent, ran up. He breathlessly explained that people had been called, the cops had been called, he and his cousin just wanted to be safe. They both kept looking back the direction they had come from, anxious. I'd guess the boys were twelve or thirteen years old. They were barefoot in the gravel and blackberry brambles.

I called 911. An officer was already on the way. The dispatcher asked about another person: the sister. Where is the boy's sister? I can hear her yelling, said the cousin. Moments later she hurried up the road. She wrapped her arms around her brother, who was still distraught. They huddled against a fence under a sheltering tree.

The girl, perhaps sixteen years old, explained to me and to herself: I had to call the police. I had to. Our mom is...is...is not the best mom. Our dad is...is...is pretty strict. My brother left his basketball in the driveway, and my dad was upset. But I don't want him to go to jail. But I don't want him to hurt my brother. But I don't want him to go to jail.

A grandma showed up. The cousin's dad showed up. A law officer arrived. We left. Just down the road, we saw a man making his way up the shadowed shoulder. No telling for sure who he was, but he looked rough and angry.

I keep thinking about those kids, hoping they can find a more secure refuge than a stranger's car randomly flagged down in darkness.