LOST BABY!

When I was 1, my father lost me in a high rise apartment building by leaving me in the elevator.

KIDNAP ATTEMPT - PART DEUX

    The next day was back to business as usual, and I went to school with the events of the previous night half forgotten.   I came home that afternoon through the usual entrance, our back door that leads directly into the kitchen.   This was the door we used the most, since everything we did was on or near Lincoln Road, and this entrance was the closest one to it.

    I immediately noticed something was wrong, there were patches of dark smudges all over the door and kitchen walls.   I could see fingerprints all in those smudges.  It looked like dirt or ash, but this much dirt wouldn’t have built up after just one school day.

    My mom came into the kitchen; her neck was swollen, scratched and bruised all the way around. She looked like she had been crying. She asked me to close the door, which we usually just left open all day for fresh air.  Then she told me what happened.

    She was doing the dishes earlier that day, with her back to the opened door.   This door was a strong solid wooden door with a window made of fogged glass panels that opened and closed just like a venetian blind.  On the inside of the door a metal grate covered the window to keep someone from easily breaking in by smashing those glass panels. This grate had been damaged by a prior tenant and had a fist-sized hole with spokes that protruded outward.  We often used this hole to grab the door to pull it shut since the doorknob was broken.

    With her wet hands still in the sink, my mom sensed something was up, the way you do when you feel someone is watching you.   She turned and peeked out the door and down the alley, with her back still to the door.   A short, mustached Latino man, wearing blue cut-off shorts and a white t-shirt was slowly making his way up the alley towards our door.   It was clear he was trying to be sneaky, almost cartoonishly tip-toeing.   They locked eyes and my mom slowly began to reach for the jagged grate with a soapy hand.   She did this slowly, I assume, to not insult this stranger, in case he was not there to do her harm.   This action caused him to change pace and he began rushing towards the door. She had just grabbed the busted grate and began pulling when he caught up.   She wasn't able to close the door in time.

    Instead he swung it open so hard, it cut her fingers.   They began to fight, and he soon had a tight grip around her neck with both hands.   This went on for some time and my mom fought to cry out for help.   The choked cries happened to wake my father who was asleep in the bedroom nearby.

    My 60 year old father was practically blind without his coke-bottle glasses and spent all of his time at home wearing nothing but his European-cut bikini briefs.   So he wakes up, doesn’t bother to put on his glasses and slowly walks into the living room.  His wife’s attempted murder is playing out right in front of him, but he can't see a thing.   Annoyed and practically naked he grumbles at my mother, “What is it?"

    The would-be kidnapper slash murderer, startled by this half naked, clueless, blind old man, releases my mother's neck and runs off through the same door.

    Fast forward a bit and I arrive just after the police has fingerprinted the place and left. It wasn’t until she described this person down to the exact clothes he wore the night before that we realized I already knew him and he must have watched us walk home.

    The police never notified us of his capture, and for a while I did most of my playing indoors.  The back door was never left open again.