We had the weirdest night, and I don’t even know how to tell this story in a way that makes any sense, but I shall try:
Last night, I met up with my book club ladies, and Dave and I watched a movie when I got home. So we all got in bed pretty late, around 1 a.m. A few hours later, I woke up to hear someone knocking on our front door. At first, I thought it was the contractor who’s been renovating Dave’s office. Sometimes he gets here around 8 a.m., before we’re up for the day, so that wouldn’t be too shocking. Except, oh yeah, it isn’t Monday morning. Then I looked at the clock: it was 3:50 a.m. The hell?
I went to the top of the stairs – from there, I could see through the window next to our front door. I saw a person’s arm, but that was all. And the person kept knocking, repeatedly. I hustled back to the bedroom and woke up Dave. He went to the door while I hovered at the top of the stairs. It was a woman, she was soaking wet and shivering (it was raining and probably in the 30’s outside), and she asked if she could come in. Dave said no, and asked how he could help her. She said she needed “to call Billy,” and asked again if she could come in. They went back and forth a few times – her asking to come in, Dave politely saying no and trying to figure out what she wanted. She didn’t exactly seem drunk (although Dave said later that he could definitely smell alcohol on her), but she was really confused and disoriented. Finally, Dave caved in and let her inside to use the phone.
I came downstairs, and Dave and I tried to ask her a few questions to figure out exactly what was wrong, and how she ended up at our front door at 4 in the morning. I mean, our house is pretty freakin’ remote. Of all the places to find yourself stranded, why our little part of Duvall? And who exactly is this Billy that she needed to call, and why didn’t she have his number? None of her answers made any sense, she was just totally out of it, and she asked if she could rest on our couch for a while. Um, no, sorry.
She called her mom to get this Billy person’s phone number – meanwhile, I grabbed my cell and headed upstairs to our bathroom to call the police. I know it probably didn’t qualify as an emergency, but you hear stories about the one person who gets inside the house, and then the other people with guns show up, and… yeah. I sort of freaked. From our bathroom, she couldn’t hear me talking to the police dispatcher, and I could also keep an eye on Cate, who was sound asleep in the Pack ‘n’ Play in our bedroom.
(Btw, she’s been sleeping 5-6 hours at a time for the past several nights, which is awesome. Or at least, it’s awesome when there aren’t crazy people in my living room keeping me awake.)
Oh, and apparently Dave had the same thought process as me about how this could be some kind of scam, because I found out later that he snuck into the kitchen and grabbed a box cutter and put it in his pocket, just in case. It made me feel better to know I wasn’t the only one who found the whole thing to be totally suspicious.
Now, I know we live in a small town, but wouldn’t you think that since the weirdos are generally out on the weekends, that it might be a good idea for have more than one police officer on duty? Because it took the cop FORTY-FIVE MINUTES to show up. Meanwhile, Miss Crazy is downstairs making multiple phone calls (because I guess Billy wasn’t answering his phone) and in between, Dave is still politely trying to ask her what the hell is going on.
Finally, the policeman arrived, and he asked her if she had left her car at the bottom of the hill (we live at the top of a big hill). She was like, “oh, you found my car?” I’m honestly not sure if she realized that he was a cop or not. But the cop was very nice and told her that yes, he found her car, and if she’d just come with him, he’d take her to it. She followed him quite happily. And on her way out, she tried to give Dave a hug. He gave her a quick little “Ok then, bye-bye” pat on the shoulder.
That was it. I still have no idea what the hell that was about. And now I’m just wondering if we’re going to end up in our town newspaper’s weekly police blotter article.