Free The Full Ridiculous by Mark Lamprell

you because she’s exhausted too; nevertheless you say, very quietly, ‘Fuck you.’
    ‘Your son needs you now, not when you feel like it.’
    ‘I know that, Wendy.’
    ‘He’s… he’s…’
    ‘I know .’
    ‘Well do you know when you’re going to be able to do something about it? Michael? When?’
    ‘Right now! I’ll go and grab him right now and beat the truth out of him, will I?’
    ‘Just for once, can you not overreact?’
    ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you, I’m a wreck! I’m overreacting!’
    ‘What? Because that woman ran over you? You were overreacting long before that!’
    ‘Oh, fuck off!’
    ‘No, you fuck off!’
    Things descend into a slanging match. For two literate people, it’s amazing how quickly your lexicon contracts. Rosie hurls open the bedroom door, outraged. ‘Juan can hear you!’ she hisses, shaming you both into silence.

13
    Two days later at three in the afternoon, the phone rings. Normally, of course, you’d just let it ring out but you are grateful for the distraction from your attempt at writing so you answer it.
    Constable Lance Johnstone is on the line. He sounds friendly, chatty even, as he explains he’s calling about Rosie and that he’s already had a brief conversation with Wendy. Your stomach flips and your temperature rises. Trying to sound relaxed, you tell him you are aware of this.
    Constable Johnstone wonders whether you would mind bringing Rosie down to the station for a chat. You ask him what he means by a chat. He tells you that he needs to ‘wrap things up’ and he really can’t do this until he hears Rosie’s side of the story. He says this like it’s a boring but necessary procedure and he just wants to get the whole thing over and done with. You’d like the whole thing over and done with too, so you agree to bring Rosie in when she gets home later that afternoon. You ask how long it will take. ‘Hopefully not long at all,’ he says lightly.
    It’s a chilly day but small beads of sweat break out across your forehead. You hang up and tell yourself you are being ridiculous. He’s obviously a perfectly reasonable man, just doing his job. Just doing his job.
    You call Wendy at work and let her know that you’ve heard from this Constable Johnstone character again. She decides to come home early to drive you and Rosie to the police station. She reminds you that Rosie starts back at school tomorrow and it’s important to keep things running smoothly.
    An hour later, Rosie stands in the kitchen with a slight frown on her lineless brow. This is the first time she has heard about the police and she’s taking the news surprisingly well. After the initial fright, her tough-girl persona kicks in and she tells you that she’s actually pleased to be able tell the cops what really happened with that stupid bitch-faced slut. You know she is saying this largely for the benefit of her bemused audience, Juan and Declan, nevertheless, you ask her to confirm that she knows not to use that kind of language when she is at the police station.
    ‘Der,’ she says and flounces down to the car.
    Wendy takes Rosie’s hand as they ascend the concrete steps to the police station. They wait at the top for you to hobble up the disabled access ramp on your crutches and you look up at them: Rosie in her crisp blouse and skirt, trying to look world-weary; Wendy in her crumpled suit, trying not to look world-weary. Finally you reach them. Wendy takes your elbow as a sign of solidarity and the three of you enter the police station together, Team O’Dell.
    The reception desk is a long, unmanned Laminex bench. You stand there, waiting. Several police are seated at their desks in the room beyond, but clearly they have more pressing matters to deal with. A young policewoman appears through a rear door, laughing and holding a cup of coffee. She sees you and comes over. Her bright tone is reassuring. You tell her you are here to see Constable Johnstone. She asks if he is