WHATEVER

I was standing next to my kitchen counter eating cereal and looking out into our backyard when my phone buzzed with a text message,

“It’s all over”

I hate cereal but there wasn’t anything else and I was hungry. You do what you have to do.

I looked at the text and saw who it was from and took a breath. Brian. Great. Am I really going to respond to this? Why not?

“What’s all over?”

“Everything”

Brian is a functioning alcoholic. A stockbroker who takes down north of 500k. And my neighbor. I don’t really know how he does it but there he was with his Mercedes AMG and his tennis wife and his text messages to me.

I wrote back, “What do you mean, everything?”

“Job, program, wife, kids, I’m done”

“Call me” I wrote back before I really thought about what I was doing.

“I’m done”

“Ok, you’re done but call me first”

I figured a little sarcasm would maybe bring him back to his senses.

“I’m at the bridge”

No such luck.

“Call me now”

Hoping he would and I could move on with my day.

“Bridge”

At this point I was probably angry but whatever,

“Brian, if you don’t call me in 5 minutes, I have to call the police”

2 minutes went by and my phone buzzed, I answered,

“What are you doing?”

“I’m at the bridge”

“You said. What happened?”

“They fired me. Kicked me out of the program. It’s over…I’m at the bridge.”

“Bri…”

“Hang on…” And then all I heard was the wind for a long time and then his phone hung up.

I wasn’t really sure what just happened, so I started texting him.

“Brian?”

I waited for a reply for a bit, then I sent,

“Brian”

Waited again and then,

“Brian, please call me back”

Then I got this,

“Jumping”

“Brian call me now”

Minutes went by. I put the phone down on the counter and looked out the kitchen window into my backyard. It was a sunny morning. My kids were playing on the swing. The little one had a lizard by the tail and his sister was telling him to put it down. He did. At the bottom of the slide.

Then my phone buzzed.

I looked at it, it said, “Jumping”

“Brian call me or I’m calling the police”

“Jumping”

Now I was done, “Brian call me in 5 minutes or I’m calling the police”

I started looking at my watch and realized 5 minutes was probably too long to wait in this situation but whatever, I was going to stick it out.

I rinsed my cereal bowl and stuck it in the dishwasher. Took another sip of coffee. I could just forget about this and move on. There were still 3 different types of cereal boxes on our kitchen table left over from the kid’s breakfast, so I went and put them away. 3 more minutes. I came back to the window over the sink and looked out. Yesterday, I thought I saw a fox in the corner of our yard but when I went out to look more closely there was nothing. My youngest called out “Jordan give it back!” 1 more minute, I heard them outside, running and laughing and then I reached for the phone and started to dial but thought maybe he thinks nobody keeps their word anymore and so if I can do what I say maybe he will trust me and call me. But, of course, he didn’t call. So I thought I have to call the police. So I did.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“My neighbor is threatening to jump from the bridge”

“Which bridge sir?”

Wow. I wasn’t really sure.

“The Golden Gate”

“And are you at the site now sir?”

“Uh, no”

“Yes sir, and your name sir?”

“My name?”

“Yes sir”

“Sorry, don’t you mean my neighbor’s name?”

“No sir”

“Uh, David Everett”

“Ok Mr. Everett and your address?”

I was sure now that they had misunderstood something I said.

“Sorry, you understand the man just threatened to jump and he’s at the bridge isn’t that where you want to go”

“Yes sir but in case we need to contact you it’s important to know where we can reach you”

I understood now this could easily go in a direction I had not anticipated or thought about but I wanted them to know this was legit and that I was just telling them the situation.

“2602 Alton Lane, Monte Vista”

“Yes sir, and are you at your home now?”

“Uh, yes”

“And the name of the individual you are reporting”

“Brian Wade”

“You said he was your neighbor”

“He lives across and down the street”

“Alton Lane, Monte Vista?”

“Yes, 2576”

“Thank you sir, we will send someone by to gather more information and someone to investigate based on the information you have provided.”

“So you’ll send someone to the bridge?”

“We will investigate the call sir, thank you, is there any other information you want to provide?”

I thought for a minute. There was more but that would make things more complicated.

“No”

“Ok, sir, thank you”

And they hung up.

I pulled the phone from my ear and looked at the screen to see if there was a text message. There was nothing. I looked out the window into the yard and the kids were gone but I could hear them. I went into our front living room and looked out thru the front window and sure enough there was my son dribbling a basketball and following his sister across and down the street to Brian’s house.

Great. Just what I needed.

I went back into the kitchen and cleaned up what was left of breakfast. My wife’s job takes her out of the country for weeks at a time, so the house was temporarily quiet and still. For a few minutes, there was nothing going on. I decided to try and get some work done.

When the cop car pulled up, I was answering emails and hadn’t really thought about Brian for 10 minutes when the doorbell rang. For a second, I couldn’t think who it was but then I heard one of Brian’s kids from across the street ask, “Jordan, how come the cops are at your house?”

I grew up in LA and when I was younger, I used to talk to cops all the time. It used to make me uncomfortable, then I got used to it, I got good at showing them I wasn’t going to take their shit, but now, 25 years later, they were just annoying.

Cops. Whatever.

The cop that answered the door looked like a middle linebacker. His partner was a woman about 25 with short black hair, dark eyes and a storm cloud over her head. I felt bad for them. I wasn’t going to make their day.

“Mr. Everett?”

“Yeah”

“We’re from the Bristol county sheriff’s office. You called us.”

“Yes. I did.”

“About your neighbor jumping”

“That’s right”

“Can we ask you a few questions?”

“Yes”

I had snappier responses, but I thought I’d save them.

I closed the front door to my house and walked out toward my driveway with the cops behind me. I wanted to be able to keep an eye on my kids and I was secretly hoping Brian’s wife would make an appearance.

“How long have you known your neighbor?”

“Uh…3 years.”

“How close are you?”

“What?”

“Do you spend time together?

“No.”

“OK”

“Have you sent anyone to the bridge?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“We don’t have any word yet. How long has this been going on?”

“What?”

“Attempts at suicide?”

“Oh, I don’t know. This is the first I’ve heard…”

Just then Lisa Wade came out of the house. She was wearing her tennis dress and had a bag with a couple of rackets over her shoulder and was making her way to the door of her Mercedes when she stopped and looked up at us talking in my driveway. She was tall, slender, tan and angry most of the time.

I said to the cops, “Look, why don’t you ask her, that’s his wife, I’m sure she will know more about this than I do”

When they didn’t move, I started walking across the street toward her.

As I walked across the street, she looked and up and said, “Hey Dave, listen, do you mind taking the kids over to your place? I’ve got to get Max to his soccer game and then I’ve got a tennis game from three to four.

Max looked bored but compliant and was already getting into the car.

Normally I’d have just said sure, whatever. But this was different now. You know, with Brian being on the bridge and all.

“Did Brian text you?”

“What?” This was the first time she noticed the cops behind me.

“Ma’am, are you married to Brian Wade?”

“What? Uh, yes.”

“Are you aware he’s texting Mr. Everett and threatening to jump off the bridge?”

“What? No.”

“Do you mind if we talk for a few minutes?”

“Oh, ok, well, wait…” She looked at me, “you called the cops?”

“Yes”, I was the enemy now, but I was ready for it.

“Why?”

“Because he texted me saying he was on the bridge and he was jumping”

She stared at me like I was supposed to get her non-verbal that this was “just Brian”

“4 times” I said just to make it clear

Then, in an attempt to recover herself completely and move on she said,

“Look, my husband is a manic-depressive alcoholic, he does stuff like this all the time, and it doesn’t mean anything. I’m sure he’s somewhere having a drink. I’m not sure why he called the cops, but I can assure you it was unnecessary. I’m happy to talk to you later but right now I need to get my son to his game.”

I looked at the cops and even the woman looked surprised, she said, “Ma’am, we need to talk now. Is there somewhere we can go?”

Lisa looked at me like she wanted to kill me. I’ll admit it. This was the happiest part of my day. Lisa was one of the key ingredients in what was likely a bad marriage from the start, and I was hoping that maybe now she might realize there was something here that needed her attention.

Then she said to the cops, “No. We are not doing this right now. I did not call you. He did and I’m not sure why. My son’s game is important, and I am NOT going to let him or anyone else take that away from him because of my husband’s personal issues.” Then she turned to me and said, “I’m sorry Brian is involving you in his shit but you know what he’s like and you also probably know he’s drunk so can’t you just ignore it?”

Clearly this was not going to be her wake-up call and “ignore it” was just enough to get me going.

“No, that’s not how this works Lisa. He said he was going to jump. I asked him to call me. He didn’t. I told him he had 5 minutes to call me before I called the cops. He didn’t call. I called the cops. Your husband is threatening to jump off a bridge, the cops are here to try and help you and you really think getting Max to his soccer game is the most urgent thing?”

“Mom…I…” Max tried to say something, but Lisa cut him off.

“Not now.” Then she turned to the cops and said, I’m done. Thank you for trying to help. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go.”

She got in the car and the cops who at this point were unable to retrieve words simply moved aside. I was staring at them in disbelief. In another minute I would have the kids at my house along with the cops and Brian’s texts continuing to flow in….

Lisa started the car and rolled down the window and was starting to say something when my phone rang. It was Brian. From where Lisa was and where the cops were standing everyone could see the name on my phone “Brian Wade” in bright white lettering like a chorus in a bad musical, they all said, “Answer it”.

So I did.

“Hey”

“Dave?”

I was looking at the big cop who had taken a note pad from his tool belt and was leaning over to write something using the hood of Lisa’s car as his desk.

“Yeah, where are you?”

“Hey, did you call the cops on me?”

This was now the second time in my life that someone had accused me of calling the cops on them.

“Yes”

“Why?”

“That’s how this works Brian. You threaten to jump off a bridge. I text you asking me to call in the next 5 minutes or I will call the cops. You don’t call. I call the cops.”

“Dude”

Now that I’m a parent I try not to swear so much. But his “dude” was enough to make my head explode but I looked at the cops, my kids in the front yard throwing a Frisbee and Mark in the back seat. I was going to try and keep it together.

“Sorry”

Then the six foot five 250 pound police officer that had been leaning over the hood of Lisa’s Mercedes writing something lifted his torso up, picked up his pad and showed me what he had written. The piece of paper on the pad said,

Would it be weird, if you asked him to come over?

I’m rarely speechless but I think I lost my mind for a few seconds after I read the note.

Brian asked me something on the phone but I could not hear him. “Would it be weird?” just kept rolling around in my head. Was this expression something the officer normally asked people? “Would it be weird?” As if until now everything had been rolling along normally and it was crucial that I not utter the wrong words that would tip Brian off to how not normal things actually were. “Would it be weird?”

Given the current circumstances there was no way for me to answer the question.

I spoke to Brian, “Can you hold on a second?” I muted the phone and said to the officer, “Yes it would be weird. We are not friends. We don’t share power tools or watch games or trade gossip or drink together ok? Our kids know each other, and I keep it friendly so they can enjoy their time together. That’s it.” I may have said this a little forcefully because at that point he held up his hands and then indicated the phone as if to remind me to just get on with it.

I took the phone off mute and said to Brian, “Sorry, I’m here with your kids”

And Brian said, “Ok, no worries dude, sorry, it’s just that my phone’s been blowing up and my parents called and I just didn’t want to get into all this shit with them you know, so, yeah, sorry for bothering you with all this, I’m just done so forget it ok, I’m out” and then he hung up.

“Brian?” I looked at my phone but there was nothing.

Lisa and the cops all looked at me and then the Officer, his name was Jeffrey David according to his badge, said, “What happened?”

“He hung up.”

Lisa said “Yeah, not surprised, if you’ll excuse me now I need to go.” And then rolled up her window and waited while the cops moved aside and then slowly pulled out of the driveway, took a left and drove off, presumably to Max’s game.

The cops looked at me without saying anything. I turned to the kids who were miraculously still playing in the front yard and asked them to come over which they readily agreed to do once Jordan got the Frisbee away from Marks the Wade’s Australian Shepard.

As we walked back to the house Officer David said they would contact me if they had any additional questions and then he stopped and said, “Just want you to know we appreciate what you tried to do.”

The rest of the day was normal. Work in the yard, cut the grass, pull together lunch for the kids, try and keep an eye on the game, return a few emails and send text’s to my wife to reassure her this was all worth it. I’m pretty sure I believed it too. We got pizza delivered for dinner and Jordan and I made a salad together so we wouldn’t have to feel bad about the pizza when my wife asked what we had for dinner. I had just finished a second glass of wine when my phone rang.

“Mr. Everett?”

“Yeah”

“We got him”

“Sorry?” I think it was the expression that threw me off. “We got him” I wasn’t expecting anyone to get anyone.

“We got him, Mr. Wade, he’s 5150’d and in Stamford now” I remembered 5150 from high school. Involuntary psychiatric hold.

“Oh”

“Yes sir, we just wanted you to know. Look, we don’t necessarily do this with a case like this, but we figured a guy like you would want to know.”

“Oh, ok, well, thanks. So, what happens now?”

“That depends on him. He’ll be examined and his wife and family will be involved and hopefully he’ll agree to do a sixty or ninety day voluntary rehab so he can get himself together.”

I tried to picture Lisa considering what was best for Brian and their family.

“Sounds good. Do you need anything else from me?”

“No, I don’t think so sir, we just wanted you to know you did the right thing.”

“Ok”

“OK sir, have a good night.”

I hung up the phone and looked out my front window at the Wade’s house. It was the end of a warm September Saturday and the window was open and it was just getting dark. The front lights were on as well as the decorative lights at the base of their trees. I saw Lisa’s Mercedes come around the corner, down the street and turn in slowly to their driveway where the garage door magically opened up and she drove in. Max got out of the car with his soccer gear and went into the house and a minute later Lisa got out with the phone pressed to her ear and came down the driveway talking forcefully.

“Well fuck him” I heard her say, like that summarized everything that was wrong with their lives.

“Fuck him, I’ve had it with his shit, I just can’t do this anymore”

So that was it. This was all just his problem. The million-dollar house, the tennis club, the Mercedes, this was all just “his shit”.

I got up and went to the door.

Was I really going to do this?

As I reached for knob, Jordan called me from the other room, “Dad?”

I looked out across the street. Lisa was on a roll now, arms waving and pacing like she was alone in her bedroom. I walked over to the front window and shut it and pulled the curtains a bit and called out to Jordan, “Yeah what’s up?”