Fragments

“Come here,” Lacy Emerson murmured in her husband’s ear. He turned his face to her and Lacy lifted her lips to his; it’d been a while since they’d shared such a loving embrace but today, everything felt right.

Henry slid an arm around her waist and pulled her towards him, pushing back against the kiss and as a result, pushing Lacy back against the hard bench. They were in the kitchen but it didn’t matter because Andrew, their only son, had gone out. They didn’t expect him to be home until the very last moments of his curfew – 2.00 in the morning, but that late curfew only applied as long as he was with a group of people, he was going somewhere responsible and only on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. Many parents would call them stupid for giving him such a loose leash but they wanted him to learn responsibility through his own mistakes.

Lacy murmured something unintelligible as Henry kissed a line down her neck and to the top of her shirt – but a knock on the door startled them. Who on earth would visit at a time like this? Although, as it was inching later and later in the night, it could be Andrew, knocking because he’d forgotten his house key. God knows he’d done that so many times.

“I’ll get it,” Lacy muttered, pulling herself from her husband’s arms but he still trailed behind her. Opening the wooden door an inch or two, she peeked out and asked, “Who is it?” She widened her eyes as she took in a policeman, of about thirty years – younger than her but still getting old. Had Andrew been caught doing something illegal – or would they just call if that had happened?

“Mrs Emerson?” the policeman asked in a serious voice – so serious a voice that Lacy wondered if he’d ever cracked a joke.

“That’s me,” she replied, opening the door a little wider. Her husband came closer to see who it was, now that he knew it wasn’t Andrew – if it was, he’d come straight in, complaining about losing the key yet again. Henry was just as startled as Lacy was to see the policeman.

“I am Sergeant Brett Stanley. May I come in? I have something to talk to you and your husband about.” His manners were perfect and his posture polite. Lacy stepped aside wordlessly to let him through and then led him to the living room. Forgetting her own manners for a second, she sat herself down and the officer stood stiffly beside the armchair before Henry thought to ask him to sit down as well.

“Mr and Mrs Emerson,” he began, finally settled into the chair. “Is your son Andrew Emerson?” Both Lacy and Henry nodded, frozen except for that one tiny movement. The man’s eyes flickered nervously and Lacy was suddenly gripped by the certainty that the cop had come, bearing bad news.

“I’m sorry but tonight, your son was involved in a car accident,” he said quietly, sympathy and grief for someone else locked in his words. “He...He didn’t make it through.” Shock and horror stilled Lacy and Henry’s veins. They stared at each other until Lacy’s eyes filled with tears and she had to look away.

“Did he feel any pain?” she whispered.

“We don’t know the details.” The officer shrugged. “All we know is who was in the accident and how badly hurt they are. Andrew was...gone by the time ambulances had arrived at the scene.” Lacy choked down a sob.

Henry, his voice so quiet, it was almost a whisper, asked, “Who else was in the accident? Who was the driver?” A cutting edge entered his tone as he asked that last question.

“Elena Davis, Lee Donnelly and a little boy, we don’t know exactly who he is. He looks about twelve. We don’t know who the driver was, except Andrew wasn’t – he was found in the back seat.”

Lacy covered her mouth with her hand, willing herself not to break down in front of a stranger – a policeman. Pulling her hand away for only a moment, she whispered, “Elena is – was – his girlfriend.” Her voice was strangled with grief and loss and pain.

The officer nodded and stored that information away for later. He then left the couple in their sorrow unable to stay any longer.