TWO HOURS LATER, after Compton PD took the report and finished all the interviews, I drove my Ford Ranger north out of Compton into Lynwood, then headed on through to Southgate and our apartment. Olivia sat twisted on the passenger seat next to me, looking back through the open sliding window at her boyfriend Derek Sams, whom I made ride in the open truck bed. I wanted some alone time to talk to my daughter about what had happened and to make sure she realized the severity of the situation. That’s what I told myself, anyway. In reality, I just couldn’t stand the little shit weasel.
I never spoke ill of children or young people; they had it hard enough without adults disparaging them. But it took every ounce of self-control to keep from throttling him for putting Olivia in such a dangerous environment. And maybe I still would. To do anything in front of Olivia would only push her further away. But I didn’t know what else to do. I’d tried everything to get through to her.
Olivia shoved my shoulder and scowled. “Making him ride back there like that, you’re treating him like a piece of garbage. He’s hurt. He’s hurt real bad, Bruno. We should be taking him to the doctor right now and not driving him home.”
I took my eyes off the road and looked at her. “I don’t think you understand—I cut him a huge break. He should’ve gone to jail. He went to that house on Pearl to cop some dope. Being at a dope house is a misdemeanor. He endangered your life. Don’t you get that?”
“No, he didn’t. I told you, he went there because he owed them some money. He didn’t have it, and he wanted to reason with them. He’s really great. I mean, the way he can talk to people. You just never took the time to get to know him, that’s all. And that’s not fair. If he’d stayed in school, he’d have been the captain of the debate team, I know he would have. Please, Bruno, just once sit down and talk to him. Really talk to him.”
She didn’t get it. Derek owed those gangsters on Pearl. They’d fronted him some dope, and he’d spent the money before he could pay it back. That’s why they beat him.
“He’s no good for you, O. Look what just happened. He should never have—”
“Bruno, stop. I love him. Can’t you understand that? You need to accept it. Once you do, you’ll see that you’ll never be able to change it. This is the way it’s going to be. Forever. We’re going to be together forever and ever. So get used to it.”
She talked as if she were older, like a young adult. As if she truly knew how this world worked. When she really had no clue. She didn’t know how one poor choice could lead to another and another until it wrecked your entire life. Where had my little girl gotten off to? It seemed just yesterday we’d sat at the kitchen table making macaroni paintings of houses and dogs and cats on blue construction paper.
Why couldn’t she see this for the problems Derek Sams had already caused? It was so obvious. The frustration of it made me want to punch something. Like the punk in the back of my truck.
I said, “He’s seventeen and you’re only fourteen.”
“Oh, my God.” Her eyes went wide. She turned around, crossed her arms, and looked straight ahead.
“All right, now what’ve I done?” I should’ve stayed angry and come down on her with severe sanctions for skipping school to hang out with Derek Sams even after I’d told her in no uncertain terms to stay away from him. But I couldn’t. Standing outside the house on Pearl, helpless, unable to get in, I’d experienced a wake-up call. I had just lived through the worst possible scenario where she was only feet away in dire peril, and I couldn’t get to her through the steel door. I could’ve lost her. I couldn’t imagine a world without my darling Olivia, a world colorless, sterile, and devoid of all joy.
I nudged her with an elbow. “Come on, O, tell me what I did.”
She turned, scowled again, and with too much vehemence, said, “I was going to wait and see how long it actually took before you figured it out. I can’t believe this. I really can’t.”
“Tell me.” I nudged her again.
“I turned fifteen two weeks ago.”
“What?” My mind spun to catch up. Of course, she was right. I’d screwed up big-time. This murder trial with Louis Borkow had been a huge distraction. “Ah, man, I’m sorry, O, really I am. I’ve just been so—”
“Busy. I know.”
I’d left the violent crimes team, a job I dearly loved, and taken the job in court services for a consistent schedule. Olivia needed more supervision. I couldn’t give it to her if I was chasing murder suspects and bank robbers all over Southern California. I needed to pay closer attention. Spend some quality time with my daughter before it was too late. Apparently, that sacrifice hadn’t worked either, not after what happened today. Too little, too late.
Fifteen years ago, Olivia’s mother knocked on my apartment door and handed Olivia to me. I hadn’t even known Olivia’s mother was pregnant. She’d shoved our daughter into my arms and said, “Here, she’s yours. I can’t take it anymore, not right now.” She turned and walked out of our life never to be seen again.
Holding Olivia in my arms that day, I’d promised myself I would not be that man who neglected his home life, his family. Yet that’s exactly what had happened. Time was the culprit. With the snap of the fingers, time had snuck up on me and snatched away fifteen years. It seemed as if I had floundered and grabbed at it trying to hold on, digging my heels in trying to slow it down.