Trust on Life Support

Those ninety days of probation were a true test of my mental stamina. Keep in mind that, I was fresh out of the police academy barely getting over that madness. It was not long after having that intensive praiseworthy discussion with the captain, when I was assigned to work on a different tier. This time I was called off my post to report to the warden’s office. My very first thoughts were, “The warden’s office? Here we go again. I thought this mess was over and done with! I knew that I had left myself wide open after that discussion with the captain.” I continued looking for fault until I found myself knocking on the warden’s office door. When entering his dreary looking office, I could see the warden, the captain and about six other high-ranking officers were present. They all gave the impression that they were patiently anticipating my arrival. Gradually, I began to recognize that I was there for something altogether different from what I was assuming. A feeling of despair instantly shot through my veins, when I saw the captain that had given me so much encouragement just a few weeks earlier, handing me the phone. “You have a phone call,” he said, in a calm and measured tone. Nervously, I questioned, “Who is it? Who could it possibly be?” My entire body stiffened and my feet would not allow me to take another step. I assumed the worst. Something must have happened to my children. Notably, when I looked around the room, every single one of the officers had the same dismal expression on their faces. Then I panicked and frantically exclaimed, “Did something happen to my children? Are my children alright? What’s going on?” The captain, of all people, whom I thought I could trust, gave me the vaguest response while shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know what’s going on,” as he stepped closer pushing the phone further towards my face. In that short span of time, I had persuaded myself that something horribly had gone wrong and it involved one or all of my children. What else could it have possibly been urgent enough to pull me from my post for a phone call in the warden’s office? I was only a few steps away from the captain, yet, it seemed as though he was a mile away. My boots felt like they were filled with wet cement. I, literally, struggled to take the next step to retrieve the phone. Hesitantly, I grabbed the phone and scared to death, I muttered, “Hello?” A man on the other end responded addressing me by my name. “Who is this?” I demanded. “This is the Superintendent,” Offhandedly, replying. “What is going on? Are my children alright?” I cried out. He sounded surprise when he answered, “Oh no! This has nothing to do with your children.” I sighed with relief, but was overcome with curiosity. Before I could find out the purpose for his call, he asked me a question, “What are your off days?” Still baffled, I answered, “Tuesdays and Wednesdays, Sir.” His reaction, “Oh great! So, you are off tomorrow?” Stupefied, I slowly responded, “Yeees?” Owing to the fact, that he had to know the answers to these simple and clear-cut questions, that were so imperative, that I had to be pulled from my post. Apparently, the senior officers that filled the warden’s office were just as confused, including the captain and the warden. Or, were they? The answer to that, I will never know. So anyway, the vague conversation and the unclear questioning between the superintendent and I continued. “Do you know where the Holiday Inn Hotel is located by the airport?” He asked. Now excited, I responded. “Yes, of course I do!” Another asinine thought of mine, thinking that I must have been selected to participate in some sort of rookie seminar, seeing that that was where the DOC usually held their seminars. Long story short, that thought was quickly shattered because his next statement blew my mind when he blatantly stated, “I like the way you look. I think you are a beautiful woman and I want to spend some time with you, alone, in my hotel room.” While he babbled on, a sensation of numbness was setting into my bones. At that time, I was scanning the room like a contestant on a game show, looking out into the audience for help with an answer to a question. The audience in this case, were the officers in the room waiting to hear my response. In the interim, the curiosity was killing me. Did they know the superintendent’s intentions? Did they know what he was saying on the other end of the phone? I wasn’t going to ask them, that’s for sure. I immediately came back down to earth when he put emphasis on, “Did you get the room number?” I responded with the first thing that popped into my head. “Yes Sir! I can hear you.” On the surface of things, I was in a tight spot with an observant audience. Let it be understood, that I mumbled quite a few expletives, under my breath, telling him where he could go stick it. His arrogance proceeded as he uttered, “So pack a bag, and I will meet you there tomorrow night at ten. You don’t have to worry about checking in, just come to the room and I’ll be waiting for you.” When he stopped talking, I felt defeated. It felt as though I had been knocked out, even before a bout began. Moreover, not knowing how to handle the overall set of circumstances in that spur of the moment, I didn’t know what else to say, especially in front of his posse. Therefore, I figured I’d throw everyone off course and simply countered with a smile, “Ok, thank you so much, I appreciate your call,” and I hung up the phone. All at once, “You could hear a mouse pissin’ on cotton,” (as my grandmother would say). There was no question that they were eagerly waiting for me to disclose the subject matter of our conversation. However, before I could make my great escape, the captain was bold enough to make it his business to probe. “What was that all about?” I answered without skipping a beat, “He commended me on my shooting score at the range.” I have no idea how and why that thought came into play. I had one of the worse, if not, the worst score on the range. In all seriousness, I had to leave them and their prying eyes puzzled to the point where I could avoid any other questions. Using the excuse that I was in a hurry to use the rest room, I dashed out the door. It was next to impossible for me to remain in that office for another second, unless they physically held me down. I was one-step away from a mental meltdown. Once I reached the bathroom, it took every nerve and fiber in my life’s form not to explode into tremendous anger. I had no other choice, but to compose myself. I had to go back on post. By no means, was I going to meet this sleaze ball in a hotel! Where did he get the gall? I was certain that I would be standing in the unemployment line in the very near future. How in the world was I going to rationalize that conversation between the Superintendent of the Department of Corrections and myself? He was the governor’s right-hand man. I was a female rookie. It was as if I had been seriously wounded and left stranded to die with no help in sight. It was a good thing that it wasn’t much longer before my shift ended, because it was hard for me to function from that point. Soon as my shift ended, I logged out, turned in the keys and rushed to my car hoping no one wanted to stop and fraternize. Then I jumped into my car and sped off. Considering that the tears were streaming down my face, like pouring rain, I had to pull off to the side of the road and pull myself together so that I could see the road. All I could think about was finding another job, my children, paying my mortgage, getting through my divorce, my entire future. The next two days were my allotted days off which gave me a chance to regroup. For those two days, I was racking my brain speculating on what to do next. I roamed my house aimlessly and prayed that he would not be bold enough to call my home,