Rubber Ducky


Davis sat down heavily letting all the weight of his body and soul crash down on the worn out faux-velvet covered sofa.  His wife, Delia plopped down in the matching club chair.  Exhaustion swept through their bodies, sweat beaded their brows and worry hunched their backs.  Upstairs the racket continued.  Delia wondered how long it would be before the cops would arrive this time.

“I hope soon hon. I hope they’ll be here soon.”  He reached out a hand to her and despite the fatigue she reached out to him and moved to sit next to him on the couch.  The moment she did a piece of plaster fell and landed in the chair.

“Thank you baby.” She patted him on the knee.

“Welcome Del.”  He patted her on the hand.

The noise from upstairs was extraordinary.  All of the neighbors, who lived on the same block as the unattached single family home, could hear the racket as if it were in their own backyard.  Many years ago, when the ruckus first began, the neighbor who lived closest to the retired couple was so tired of being subjected to the repeated screaming and the constant sound of breaking glass and furniture, that they had called child welfare services.  Not long after that initial call, the Solants were visited by every single agency in an attempt to solve the problem.  None of them had the answer.  No one could offer a solution and pretty soon they all went away.  Once the neighborhood realized that no one was going to take the child away or could force the Solants to move, they either got used the whole strange mess or moved away.  Those that stayed knew that the only thing that worked was a visit from the police.  So they didn’t hesitate to call if the noise didn’t die down after a few hours; the Solants just had to keep things…contained until they got there.

The doorbell rang and Davis hollered from the sofa that the door was open.  “Thank you Jesus!” Delia whispered as she flicked off another piece of falling plaster from her apron.  Officer Grayson and his rookie partner, Officer Sayers, walked into the modest home.  When the call came in from dispatch, Officer Grayson, having been to this home on countless previous occasions, knew what to expect and what was going to be asked of him. His rookie partner had no clue.  But on the way to the house, he had been briefed by Grayson and given a file to review.  Sayers thought that it had to be some rookie joke being played on him so he pretended to go along with the whole thing just to get it over with.  He did as he was told while Grayson wound the police car in and out of traffic and down the tree lined streets towards the Solant home.





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