Well, someone had fun in Los Angeles. I told AB she was really getting to see what my life is like out here, from the boring parts — extremely long shuttle rides from the airport, sitting in coffee shops for long hours, getting phone call updates from me while I’m out at pitch meetings, driving forever while feeling incredibly slung-over — to the exciting — book readings, shopping, celebrity spotting at amoeba records, drinks with a view of downtown. And lots and lots of coffee. We never got to see any water, and she didn’t get a tan, but I think she understands now why I love it here.
The house, post-AB, is quiet in a way I don’t like. Well, except for the other night, when… well, I’ll reprint the email I sent to AB and Allison, as it’s still a little traumatic. I apologize for the lowercase, which is how people email when they love each other.
hey, did you hear me screaming two nights ago? in the middle of the night?
i thought i heard something in the living room, which woke me up. figuring cal was bad, i started walking in that direction. i saw a light in the hallway, like a discoteque, and my first thought was, “i must have left my laptop open and the screensaver’s doing something weird.” i don’t have a screensaver.
then as the light flashed by again, and i saw it come through the living room, bright as an alien abduction. i thought, “that helicopter light is going right into my house.” i walked toward the right window, the one next to the dining room table, and as i approached it, that’s when i saw a man, holding a flashlight, and that flashlight turned to point right in my face.
i hit the floor, screaming.
i ran back to the bedroom, and all i could say was “man on the porch with a light! man on the porch with a light!” stee was up and we headed back to the door.
“Hello?” stee asked.
“I’m looking for a stephen falk?”
i looked out the window. it was a police officer.
why didn’t he identify himself?
we opened the door and he told us, basically, that whoever has stee’s car right now got in some serious shit, and stee was listed as the owner of the car, and so they came here to see if we were bad-ass-thug-crackheads. upon seeing that we were not, he suggested stee makes sure his name is completely off the car. and then he told me that i scared the crap out of him. but he didn’t apologize, really, and it was so weird that he could just flash lights through our house. he said he was knocking but we didn’t answer.
yesterday stee went to the dmv and found out that his car, after they recovered it without a backseat, among other things, so he sold it to the chop shop, was then sent down to tj, then driven back up here, and then, two nights ago, STOLEN from its new owner and used in a high-speed drug-and-gun car chase. after they apprehended the suspects, they tried to find out if they could nab any of their buddies. stee’s name was listed as the car’s previous owner, so they figured we were bad guys, too.
in any event, my heart still hasn’t calmed down. and if ab had been here, like a good guard dog, i wouldn’t have had to find out how i react when i think someone is breaking into my home. for the record, i scream and hit the floor. i should probably take a class or something.[/readermail]
As the days pass, I continue to wonder why the officer didn’t say “LAPD!” when he heard me scream. He knew he’d terrified me, and even when we were calling to the closed door, “Hello?” he still didn’t identify himself as a police man. In my terror, when I looked through the window, I shouted, “It’s a cop!”
…that probably didn’t help.
So stee’s car is currently living a much crazier, exciting life than stee ever gave it. His mom was upset to find out that the car she bought seventeen years ago has grown up to be a bad car, running with the wrong crowd, driving from Mexico and back, dodging crime and getting perpetually stolen. I think it’s trying to find stee again, and is using every tactic to get noticed.
[And thanks to Amanda for her recent review of Why Moms Are Weird]