Shattered Glass

The plan was simple. Hop the fence in the southwest corner of the property, move through the trees to the tall bushes along the side of the house, pick the lock on the side door just off the laundry room, and disable the alarm. Advance to the second door passed the kitchen, the safe is located in the wall behind a framed, signed, personal letter from John F. Kennedy, out the same way you came in less than ten minutes. Like taking candy...

It had been a year since I got the job in the law offices of Thomas Webb, a high profile attorney and political hopeful in the Arlington, Virginia/D.C. area. According to him, his great grandfather was one of the first English settlers at Jamestown.

A smirk would smear his face and you could almost smell his smug satisfaction as he would say to anyone who would listen, "Back then it was Webbe with an e! Granddad was one of the first to call Virginia home!"

He was married to a former Miss Georgia, who I must admit, seemed very nice, but who I was never sure about based solely on her taste in men. Tom Webb was the type of man who had never taken one sip of cheap liquor and never taken a bite without a silver aftertaste from his spoon. He was a man who wouldn't understand, a man who couldn't understand, what it meant to do what you've got to do. Unfortunately, I did.

"$9.84." The gas station attendant held out his hand.

I gave the attendant a ten dollar bill and he dropped the pack of cigarettes, the Gatorade, and the Snickers bar into a cheap plastic bag. I dropped the change in the penny cup and walked out. A pack of Wrigley's spearmint hidden in my pocket. I sometimes steal things like that, you know, for fun.

I turned the ignition and James Brown screamed into the night air...It's a man's world...

In a flash, I'm 12 years old again and my older brother, Lenny, and I are out on the front porch of our house on the South Side of Chicago, timing each other to see who's faster at picking the lock on our front door. James Brown screams from the old stereo, drifts out through the front windows and into the street.

"You're never gonna beat me! I've gotta be the fastest lock pick this side of the Mississippi!" Lenny teases and falls over himself laughing.

I snatch the pick and tension wrench out of his hands and yell, "Go!"

The lock is set in place in seconds and I tumble through the front door. I push myself up off the floor and dust myself off. I can see down the front hall into the kitchen. A late afternoon sun shines bright through the dirty windows, bathing the kitchen in an ethereal glow. My mother is in her cooking apron and laughing as my father spins her, dips her, and dances her off her feet to the sound of music. In my memory, the scene resembles a moving Norman Rockwell, a remnant from some perfect time and perfect place that may or may not have existed. It's a sight I'll never forget.

Dad died not long after that, killed by a drunk, off duty cop who was stumbling home from a bar. The cop spotted him coming out the back window of the local jewelry store. He claimed that my father pulled a gun, raised the weapon to fire, and only then reacted and pulled the trigger, putting two shots in Dad's chest. The evidence was all there, a .45 caliber pistol in dad's right hand, the diamonds in his left. Case closed.

I rolled down the window and the cool air hit my face as I exhaled a long trail of smoke.

Mom recovered as well as could be expected. She knew her husband's trade and the risks involved. She didn't have a break down or anything like that, she's always been a strong woman, but to say she was the same would be a lie. She simply turned into another cynical, middle aged woman, with a mild drinking problem. Something she never would have become.

From the beginning, the investigation was a steaming pile. Everyone who ever knew Dad knew the cop's story was a lie. Dad never carried a gun. Never. The jeweler was an old Jew who lived down the street from us and, at first, reported to the police that some of the diamonds were still missing. Then one day he showed up at the house with a broken arm.

"Fuck you, Jerry! Fuck you!" I peeked out from behind a corner as my mother screamed at him in the kitchen. The glow, gone.

Mr. Berkowitz spoke closer to a whisper, his voice full of regret, "I'm sorry, Ann. My family..."

"What about mine, Jerry?! What about Michael's?!" Mr. Berkowitz had to avert his eyes as she stopped and glared, acerbic and malicious. A glare that could cut down the strongest of men and the weak jeweler was no match.

But she knew it was useless. "Just get out."

"Ann, I'm..."

"Just get the fuck out of my house."

As it turned out, Mr. Berkowitz had asked my father to steal the diamonds. The insurance company wouldn't pay out unless it looked like a genuine burglary. So, Dad planned everything, the idea being they would split the insurance money and resale of the stolen goods down the middle. But you can't plan bad luck.

We didn't have the money to fight the City and, at that time in Chicago, the corruption went right up the chain of command. No career aspiring detective in his right mind would take on an officer of his department, and my father, being a career thief, wouldn't get any sympathies from a jury. Besides, after all was said and all was done, nothing would bring Dad back.

When I was young and had a bad day, I remember my mother used to come into my bedroom at night and whisper a fragment of Longfellow.

~Be still, sad heart, and cease repining; ~Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; ~Thy fate is the common fate of all, ~Into each life some rain must fall, ~Some days must be dark and dreary.

That was the last night she ever did.

I turned into a dark neighborhood and parked. I lit another cigarette as I took a quick inventory of my tools and stepped out into the night. It was a little over a mile through a field and forest to the back of the Webb estate, and I needed to get moving.

Dad's death hit Lenny hard but opposite of what you'd expect. Lenny went straight. Never drank and never did any drugs. Finished high school and immediately enrolled in the Police Academy. He became a cop to fix the system. As he says, "Fight the man from the inside. Like a fucking virus!" His favorite song is that one by The Kinks and Ray Davies, I Am Your Man, and he still blasts it in his car on his way to the precinct every single day.

~Money and corruption are ruining the land ~crooked politicians betray the working man ~pocketing the profits and treating us like sheep ~and we're tired of hearing promises that we know they'll never keep.

He's like a mod/punk Dirty Harry. Lenny's a good cop and a good man, but no one is perfect. Everyone has a vice and his is gambling. He gambles on everything and not just a final. On a football game he'll bet the coin flip, first downs, passing yards, quarter scores, and the amount of penalties. Anything you can think of, he'll gamble the outcome. Once he tried to bet me twenty dollars on whether the car in front of us would turn right or left. To say he has a problem is an understatement.

A couple of days ago, my mother called.

"Robbie?" she said loudly into the phone as if I was standing yards from the receiver. "Robbie? You there?"

"Yeah, Ma, yeah," I answered, pulling the earpiece back, "I'm here, but I'm at work and can't talk long."

"Robbie you gotta speak up. You know my hearing is going." She said.

"Sorry, Ma," I said, a little louder. "How are you?"

"Well, you know I'd be much better if you called once in a while." I rolled my eyes. "Your brother showed me how to get the e-mail so you could send one of those. And you know, I can read and I can write and the Postal Service has been running as long as I can remember and despite all this technology, they say it's still running, so you..."

I interrupted her, "Ma...really, I'm at work..."

"I'm just saying, Robbie. Anyway, have you talked to your brother?" she asked.

"No, it's been a while."

"Well, Captain Murphy called and said this is the second day he hasn't shown up and no one can get a hold of him."

Instantly, I knew he was in trouble. Lenny had only three loves in his life. One was Mom, two was his work, and the third was his gambling, which Mom was unaware.

She continued, "Do you remember his friend, Detective...um...Mathis? I think? I'm not sure, but Captain Murphy said he sent Detective Mathis over to his house and his badge and gun were still there and all his clothes and things were still there."

"I'm sure he's fine, Ma," I lied. "Maybe he met a girl."

"That'd be nice, but I'm worried, so if you hear from him..."

"I'll let you know. Talk to you soon, Mom. Love you."

"Ok, sweetie, I love you too. Oh, and you better be taking care of Sarah."

"She's healthy. Bye Ma." I said quickly and hung up the phone.

Damn it Lenny.

My life as a professional thief ended the night I met her. I was walking home from a job when I came around a corner to see her held at knifepoint, being pulled into the park.

The next thing I remember, I was standing behind the thug. He hadn't heard or seen me yet. I threw my bag down to his left as a distraction. He gasped and everything went silent except for the pounding drum in my chest. His right hand pulled the knife away from her neck just enough for me to make a move. I grabbed his wrist with my left and twisted near the point of breaking. He fell backwards and I stuck him in the jaw with my right, knocking him out cold.

I stood over him in the silence. Another gasp from behind me broke me from my trance. I snapped around.

The dim yellow light from a nearby street lamp lit her face through the trees. Tears were running down her face and her mouth was open but she didn't make a sound. She was in shock...and she was beautiful.

I held out my hand, "Come on, I'll walk you home."

"We should call the police," she said, breathlessly.

A pause as we looked at each other in the darkness. I thought about the score in my bag.

"No," I said. She looked at me, frozen.

I sighed and pulled out my cell phone, dialed 911, and handed it to her. She didn't take her eyes off me as she put the phone to her ear.

She closed her eyes and took a breath, regaining her composure quicker than I expected.

"Hello? I've just been attacked by a man in the park. Yes. Near Clark and Fullerton."

I went over and picked up my bag. I always carried a couple of zip ties and I fastened two together and fixed the rapist's wrists.

"My name is Sarah," she said into the phone, "Sarah Reeves. Ok, I'll wait for them there." She hung up and looked at me.

"I have to go," I said.

Without a word, she handed me the phone. I took it from her hand and there was another pause as we looked at each other. Silently, I nodded and turned away.

From behind me I heard, "Wait." I stopped but didn't turn around. "I waitress Tuesday through Saturday nights at Sal's." I smiled to myself and walked off into the trees.

The brush was thicker than I expected and it was slow going, but I was unconcerned. I had planned accordingly. The Webb's neighbors' lights were beginning to shine through the woods and the gentle rhythm of the wind through the trees was soothing and kept me calm.

Every night for the next week and a half, I stood across the street from Sal's, chain smoking cigarettes and watching her through the windows. I could break into a warehouse with armed guards and a top notch security system without a sweat, but for the life of me, I couldn't get the nerve to go talk to this woman.

Finally, on the twelfth night, the diner was slow. Fuck it, I said to myself. I stamped out my third cigarette and crossed the street. Sal's was a 24 hour, Hollywood themed diner that served classic American food. They were particularly good with breakfast, as most all night diners are. As I opened the door, Sleepwalk by Santo and Johnny began to play on the jukebox. A bell rang as the door closed behind me and all the employees looked over. She looked up from the register and looked at me standing in the doorway. She stared back at me and I searched her face from across the room, looking for any sign to stay or flee. An older gentleman with a funny limp greeted me.

"Evening, sir," said the old man, handing me a menu. "Feel free to have a seat anywhere. We have a special on waffles and the coffee's always free." I looked back up to where she was and didn't see her, the kitchen door swinging and creaking on its hinges.

"Thank you," I responded after a pause, "I'll just take a seat at the counter."

A few minutes passed and the old man brought over a cup of coffee. A group of college kids were sitting in a corner booth, laughing. A truck driver sat a couple of seats down the counter from me. Another older gentleman and his wife sat at a four top table, drinking coffee and doing crossword puzzles. A biker sipped soup in another booth.

The kitchen door that leads to the back of the diner swung open. Time slowed down as she moved through the door towards me, like in some cheesy, 80's teen movie, but with a better soundtrack. That walk could have lasted forever and I would have asked for just a little longer.

"Hi." She said, softly. Again, silence washed over the Earth.

"Hi." I answered, nervously.

We stared at each other for a long time. I sat motionless in my chair looking up at her. She was looking down at me from behind the counter. She bit her lip the way only young women know how to do, and I got lost in her and almost proposed marriage right then and there.

A glass shattered in the kitchen, snapping us back to reality from our daydream. It was enough to ease the tension. We turned back to each other and laughed. The college kids, the biker, the older couple and the driver looked over at us and, embarrassed, we awkwardly apologized.

And all it took to change my life was a shattered glass.

"I'm glad you came in." She said, gently, almost as a release. "Every time that stupid bell on the door rang my palms got sweaty. In the last week, I've gnawed off all my fingernails and misplaced my keys more than I've ever done in my entire life."

I said, "I've been standing outside for the last two weeks," and quickly realized how creepy it sounded and said sheepishly, "Wait. That's not what I meant."

She smiled and I melted.

"I mean that I've been standing outside, trying to get the courage to come in and say hello." She shyly laughed, "You had plenty of courage last week..."

"That was easy compared to this..."

She laughed again, "...like a walk in the park..." The old man came over and interrupted, "Sarah, the older couple and that biker guy are ready for their checks."

"Ok, Sal," she answered and turned back to me, "Hold on a sec."

She went over to the register to prepare the checks. Sal eyed me up and down on my stool.

"I've never seen her crack." He said, as he turned his head to Sarah, "Not once. I've seen a thousand men try and a thousand men fail. But they all have a spot. It doesn't matter how strong or stubborn they think they are, every last one of 'em has a spot where they break. If a man is persistent and patient enough...if he can find where she breaks...that perfect place where she feels like a little girl all over again...take her where fairy tales and dreams come true..." Sal's voice trailed off as he leaned down on the counter until he was close to my face, and He whispered, "If you hurt that little girl, I'll cut your nuts off and feed 'em to ya in an omelet. You understand?"

I looked at him and couldn't help but laugh a little bit. "Yes, sir," I said.

He winked and smiled as Sarah came back over.

"Honey why don't you take the rest of the night off? I can handle this crowd." Sal said to her and started towards the kitchen.

"What? Sal, are you sure? I don't mind." She answered.

I jumped in, "To tell you the truth, I was really hoping for some waffles."

Sal turned back to me, "Oh, you'll get your waffle if you want it." Then to Sarah, "You are officially off the clock. I'll get you some coffee." And Sal limped back into the kitchen.

Sarah sat and talked with me while I ate my waffles, and we sat there in Sal's Diner, talking and drinking coffee, long after I was finished. She liked her waffles with strawberries. She drank her coffee with cream and sugar. She liked romantic indie films and loved both The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. The town she grew up in had less than five stop lights. She had her first kiss with a guy named Cory on a Ferris wheel. Her mother was a nurse and her father was a writer. She sang in the shower. Her favorite sound was the wind running through the trees. She preferred a bagel with cream cheese but also liked a good donut with glaze.

When we finally left Sal's, the early workforce of garbage men, delivery men, and bus drivers, etc., was starting to filter in. Neither of us wanted to go home, so Sarah and I walked down to the lake. We kept talking and eventually I told her about my profession and about my father's death.

"I don't care about the past," she said. "But if you want to see me again, you have to stop."

I thought for a moment, but it was easy.

"Okay."

We sat quiet for a long time after that. As the sun rose over the lake, we made a promise to each other to never lie, no matter how big or small. We've been together ever since.

Under the trees and cover of night, I stood looking up at Thomas Webb's house. I reached into my bag and put on my gloves. I pulled out my old mask and fixed it to my face. The memories of old jobs and scores rushed through my mind as I peered up at the mansion through the plastic. I traced the invisible path I was going to take through the yard. I visualized the layout of the interior one last time and pulled myself over the fence.

"Hello?" I answered the private number on my cell phone a day after Mom called asking about Lenny.

"Robbie?"

I sighed.

After a pause, I asked, "Lenny? How much?" He breathed heavy into the phone and said, "One fifty."

"Christ, Lenny!"

"I know...I...I know..." His voice trailed off.

"When do you need it?"

"By Monday morning."

I rubbed my eyes with my free hand. Neither of us spoke for several moments.

I broke the silence, "Len, Sarah and I don't have that kind of money, you know that..."

"Yeah, I know..." he said, apologetically. He continued, "You know I would never ask you to do anything unless I was in some deep shit, Robbie."

I did know. My brother never asked me for help.

Sure, Lenny was a cop and he could ask some of the other guys on the force, but they can't protect him from that type of debt, not from the type of people he owed. If Captain Murphy found out he was down that much he'd probably stick his boot square up his ass and push him out the door and say, "You're on your own because you're a fucking dumbass!" And these people would make him just disappear.

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't promise anything," I said regretfully into the phone. "I just don't know, man, I just don't know..."

"It's all right, I'll check back with you on Sunday," he said.

"Okay, Lenny. Be careful."

"Thanks little bro," he finished and hung up the phone.

I needed to think. I'll take an early lunch. I got up from my desk and grabbed my coat. At that moment, Tom Webb came walking by, talking on his cell phone.

"Sorry, Bill, I can't this weekend. I'm heading to the shore with the missus."

Amazed, I watched him walk away down the hall.

Perfect.

The lock set in place easier than I expected, especially considering my lengthy vacation. Still got it, I thought. Disable the alarm. I entered the code on the wall that I had stolen from my boss's computer and was quickly on the move again. As I rounded a corner, I clipped a side table, knocking a glass vase over. I watched it roll off the other side and I lunged for it, but it fell just passed my fingertips, shattering into a hundred pieces on the floor. A dozen roses lay scattered like victims on the hardwood. I froze, still outstretched, listening for any sound, any sign that anyone heard anything. I waited.