Change Your Attitude, Change Your Plan

Andrew, on his way out to a hockey match, came back down the stairs to tell me that the detective would be down to talk to me in a minute. He'd already spoken to him yesterday afternoon, but he wanted to talk to me too, and was upstairs talking to the landlord. There'd been an incident in the lane across from our house on Thursday night. I'd seen the crime scene tape on my way to work yesterday morning.

The album Andrew'd been listening to before he left had finished, and the quiet it left in the flat felt like it was expecting something. I dithered over what to fill it with, and then over what to do with myself so that it wouldn't look like I was sitting, waiting for him. I put on Iron&Wine and started drying the dishes. He introduced himself at the door, but all I caught was his station - Kevin Street. That was where they'd called when Andrew made his 911 call, but I didn't tell him that. I invited him in and sat at the table with him, answering his questions about what time I'd come home at, what time Andrew'd come home at, whether anyone else had called, whether I'd heard anything, whether I'd seen anything, whether I'd dropped anything on the street the following morning. 6pm. 12am. No. He wrote it all down, then asked me to sign the sheet. "That's not my name" I said. He'd printed Andrew's surname on the sheet I was to sign. I wrote my own name in brackets, then made my mark at the bottom of the page. This keeping my own name thing has raised more eyebrows than I expected. I feel naive, justifying it to people. I suppose I am. I could just correct them, and leave it at that.

I gave my reasons to the detective though. He listened patiently, with the air of a man who's listening just to see what I'll come out with next. I thought about offering him tea, but it's a small flat, and it feels too intimate for tea for two. I wanted to ask him about his job, but I'm shy. He's my age, at a guess, and I'm impressed that he's made it to detective already. I assume that everyone my age is still playing at being an adult, like I am. I wanted to tell him about how I was going to be a Guard too when I grew up, how I spent a fortnight training in Templemore once upon a time. But I'm shy. When I told Colm about it he said "I can't imagine you as a Guard, except perhaps as a comedy Guard in a Pat Shortt show." Me either, I told him. Trouble is, I can't imagine me as anything, not with enough conviction to convince anyone anyway. When people ask what I do, I launch into long-winded explanations of how I ended up where I am. It's not complicated though, it's just a job. I feel foolish, justifying it to people. I should just tell them I work in admin, and leave it at that.