Day in the life: Gary Goedken

Phone call from home

Your mother's voice comes through with a tone you recognize, one you dread. This is a 'let me update you about your brother' conversation. She drones on for nearly three minutes - you can see the timer in your cell phone monitoring it - about some problem of your brother. Oddly enough, some problem with a neighbor. She finally pauses long enough to ask you how your day went.

Gary, being used to this, knows where to insert an "yeah", "oh really?" or a "oh no", without barely listening. It's not that he doesn't care about his brother, it's just that hearing how his condition is constantly making life hard for him is so frustrating that he doesn't want to think about it. Something his mother never lets him get away with. "It was... you don't wanna hear about it ma."

"Of course I do." She replies, sounding affronted. "I'm your mother. I try and keep you abreast of every thing with your brother and I..."

I know, ma. Yeah, today was one of those days you know. You work as hard as you can, and do everything as good you possibly could, but it's still not good enough. A three year old boy got kidnapped and we were too late to save him."

Gary's voice has a tremble to it that most people wouldn't pick up, but he's talking to his mother after all.

There's a pause, certainly his mother was speechless for a moment. That visual isn't an easy one to manage. "I'm sorry, son." She said heavily, clearly affected. "Did... did you arrest the boy's killer?"

Gary feels a sting of regret at the pause. He doesn't want to upset his mother with his grisly stories. "Uh, no.. sadly we didn't. She got gunned downtown, trying to attack one of our officers."

Well, at least she's not hurting any one else." She replies. "Are the officers all right?"

"Yeah, he got away with a flesh-wound."

There's a sudden, sharp noise on your mother's end. "Oh, sorry.. had a little thing..." There's a rustling on the phone. "Oh, no- Gary, I have to go. Somebody's at the door.."

Gary's forehead wrinkles a little, but says goodbye a little stunted. "Salesmen" he mutters to himself.

Your mother makes her goodbyes and promises to call later in the week.