I needed a day to prepare myself. I practiced calling and role playing. It didn’t go very well. I just couldn’t shake the doubts that my voice was too deep, a dead give-away, completely transparent. I returned to the file. Read the emails over and over again. I resigned to try and put myself completely in the mind of Kyle. What does a fifteen year old boy, confused, young- maybe immature, certainly sexually immature, athletic, maybe imaginative, creative think about?
I invented Kyle. I closed my eyes and created an image of my bedroom. Eggshell carpet terminated at a door with the name ‘Kyle’s Room’. Drawings of moons and spaceships splashed across the sign. The room has a medium window looking down on the street and the driveway where I can see my Mom carrying bags of groceries inside from the back of a silver minivan. My bed has a patchwork quilt with little squares of varying shapes and the ends are beginning to fray from years of use. A bedside lamp in the shape of an elephant with stars and planets printed on the lampshade. Island of Blue Dolphins rests next to the bed with a bookmark sticking out about halfway through. My closet is partially closed with my favorite grey hoodie dangling from a hangar, puzzles and a beach ball peeking through from the floor. A miniature desk rests next to the bed, grammar and algebra texts sit neatly stacked and a spiral notebook lie next to them. I put myself on the bed and closed my eyes and then I said my name three times Kyle, Kyle, Kyle.
I open my eyes - I am ready.
The next day Senior Special Agent Kohout led me to an interrogation room. It is classic; a single table with a single chair. The walls are mustard yellow that resemble an aged cigarette stain rather than a coat of paint. A phone rests on the table circa 1970’s, thick transparent buttons, with blinking lights.
“Okay, when you are ready you need to pick up the phone and press this button,” she points to the lower right corner of the phone. “It will ring me and I will begin the recording and then you will announce the date, time, and state your name. When you finish dial the number and make the call.”
“Got it,” my nerves sponged through my hands.
“Remember, we need a meeting place, a time and a date and a commitment from you that you will be taking off your clothes.”
“Okay,” I replied.
“All right, you got this kid,” she stepped out of the room and closed the door. I was alone. I focused on the ceiling tiles cracking with age. Definitely an intimidating place, tight quarters - claustrophobic. There was a single window on the door with a diagonal wire pattern. The window was the size of a person’s face - enough to see but not enough for someone to escape.
I thought the nerves could help the call, Kyle would have to be nervous too. But I didn’t want to make a mistake, or sound like a 22 year old. I closed my eyes and went to my bedroom, or I should say Kyle’s bedroom. I felt the texture of my quilt and flipped on the light of my elephant lamp. I held a portable cordless phone and laid it down in my bed next to me.
I opened my eyes and picked up the receiver and pressed the button. Joel’s voice came to life on the other end, “ready?”
“Yep.”
“All right, we’re recording.”
“This is Pete Ophoven, Intern for the State BCA. The time is 3:24pm on August 25th 1997.” I looked down at the number on the paper and my hand began to shake and my vision blurred. I dialed the number and took a deep breath.
A low voice answered, “Hullo.”
“Hi, is this Fred?” I said in a high pitched Doctor Seuss sort of voice, nothing silly.
“Is this Kyle?”
“Yeah, hi. I can’t believe I’m calling you.”
“Me either,” he replied.
There was a long pause, way longer than my comfort. I filled the silence, “um…I was thinking about what you said, about pictures?”
“Yeah, well I can make it happen. Where’s your mom? Are you alone?”
“She’s at the store.”
“Home alone huh? Must feel good to have the place to yourself?”
“Sometimes, that’s when I feel curious, you know?” I’d hoped Fred would fill in the blanks, the emails were already loaded with stories of whacking off and boners and locker rooms.
“Yeah, I know, me too,” another pause, I just breathed heavy hoping he would do all the talking. “How you going to get away from your mom, for the photo shoot?”
“I will skip swim practice. Can you pick me up outside the pool?”
“Sure what time?”
“4 o’clock on Wednesday, that way my Mom will think I’m in the pool.”
“That sounds good,” he was getting louder over the receiver. I wanted to get off the phone, run away but I hadn’t gotten to the naked part.
“I’m a little nervous,” I continued, “haven’t done anything like this before.”
“Don’t worry, everyone is nervous at first.”
“You think someone will really pay for photos of me naked?”
“Oh sure, I’m sure, if we get the right shot.”
There was a long silent pause and I knew this was my chance to bail out of this conversation. “My mom just pulled up in the driveway, I’ve got to go.” I was hustling to hang up.
“Wait, what about Wednesday?”
“See you then.” I hung up the phone fast and sat back in the my chair. I was sweating and felt nauseous. I stared at the phone and blinking lights.
Joel opened the door smiling, “You did it kid, we got it. Not sure about the hustle off at the end there, but it doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah, I figured the kid got spooked. You think it was too much?”
“Nah, guy’s whacking off right now as we speak, all jazzed up about Wednesday.”
“What happens now?” I asked.
“We call the attorney, give her a copy of the tape and then pick him up for being a dirt ball. Case closed.”
I smiled at the prospect of it being over.
“You did good kid.”
No comments:
Post a Comment