Yesterday I woke up to high-pitched feline screaming. When I searched for Guinevere I found her nestled in my closet, shoes strewn about haphazardly around her.
Realizing the noise was outside, I sighed and got up looking for my phone. It's too-bright screen read 4:23AM. There is no reason to be awake yet. I hear the scream turn to a wail and opened my patio door to assess the situation.
At first, I thought the cat-screaming stopped, but it didn't. It turned into a sobbing wail and my eyes found where it came from: at the top of the concrete staircase was a small boy in a grey shirt and diaper trying to climb down.
I saw the door to the apartment wide-open. What if his parent had a heart attack? What if there had been a bad burglary? These things were common back home, but I hadn't seen this situation in this town before.
I slid my shoes on and walked briskly across the parking lot to the other building and made eye contact with the little boy, who stopped crying upon seeing me. He smiled brightly at me until I asked, "Are you okay?"
His face scrunched up as he cried again.
"Hey, bud. It's okay. Where's your papa?"
"Work."
"Did he just leave?"
"Yeah."
The boy grabbed my hand and told me to come in. Clearly, he had not been taught stranger danger like I had at his age.
I came inside the near-bare apartment. Cat feces and kids toys were around, along with piles of half-eaten food, two car seats, and a queen-sized bedframe that hadn't been put together.
"Hey buddy, how about we go find your Mama?"
"NO."
The sternness of his no made me question if he had a mom. "Why not?"
No answer.
"Hey kiddo, can you tell me your name?"
He told me, but my ears couldn't fully grasp the child-enunciations. He lifted his arms as I tried to guess what he'd said. After several tries I finally guessed right: Eli.
His grey eyes sparkled once I said the correct sounds and he hugged me tight. That was when I heard a cry come from the other room.
"What's that?" I ask Eli before putting him down.
"Sis," he said nonchalantly as he walked over to his kitchen playset. "Come play."
"How bout you tell me where your mom is?"
"I don't know."
"When was the last time you saw her?"
"I don't know," he replied again.
I walked around the apartment to assess thr situation. It reminded me of my dead brother's baby's mama's apartment back home: trash bags piled onder the island, clothes in piles on the floor. Would I find a rail of coke on the sink? I wondered.
A stifled cry came from a darkened room to my left and I turned to see a set of wide eyes staring at me from a playpen. I walk over and Eli follows me. "Is this your sister?"
"That's DOWN," is what I heard. I tried playing thr guessing game again, but each time I got the little girls name wrong.
Eli looked up at the ceiling, "Turn light on," he demanded. I looked over at the bed in the corner, nothing but sheets. These kids were, in fact, alone. I turned the light on and a cherub-faced 2 year old. Her grey-blue eyes were glassy and it looked like she'd spit up all over the playpen.
I looked around for anything to clean it and settled for the baby wipes I'd found on the ground next to a pile of used diapers. I picked her up after, much to Eli's disappointment. He wailed more, demanding I pick him up too.
I told him I could only hold one at a time and felt the heft of his sister's diaper. "Eli, do you know where the diapers are?"
He nodded emphatically and dance-ran to another corner of the room where a smaller mattress sat on the floor. There were chunks of dried ground beef all over it. I eyed the queen mattress, which had questionable stains on its sheets. I set the girl down on a gaming chair that sat in the middle of the room, facing the tv hanging above the playpen. I brushed the food to the side and put the cleanest blanket I could find on the bed and laid the girl down gently.
After cleaning her up, I checked to make sure she had no bruises or cuts anywhere and went crazy looking for diaper rash cream, butt paste, talcum powder--anything that would relieve the painful rash the girl had, but there was nothing.
I placed the clean diaper on her and asked Eli to show me where the trash was. He showed me that it was locked and he couldn't open it. I thanked him and left it open as I grabbed the pile of diapers I saw earlier. Maybe one of the parents was out getting something for her rash, I tried to reason with myself.
By the time it was nearly 7, no parents had arrived. I texted my bosses that I would either be late or I was calling out. Then I called the complex office phone to leave a message, as well as set a text to one of the property people who typically handles my issues.
I first heard back from the property manager, who said she'd get there ASAP. Then my boss texted and asked me if I'd called the police.
At first, it wasn't my intention, because there could have potentially been an emergency and the parent left in charge could just be that idiotic (these children weren't the first kids I've found by themselves, it's a curse I have, where I find missing children. Good thing I'm not the witch from Hansel and Gretel..).
I did call, around 8:30, and while dispatch was on the line with me, their mom showed up. My boss called me just after the mom's arrival, but I didn't answer and instead texted her an apology for not answering sooner, and that I'd call her when I got the chance.
She was both on the phone yelling at someone, I assume their dad, and yelling at me.
I explained the situation to her and dispatch, who asked me to stay on the line while the yelling happened. Once she stopped, I told dispatch I was going to go clean myself up.
I felt sick to my stomach as I walked down the stairs and out of their apartment. Dispatch said they would be sending officers out for a wellness check and that they would assess to see if CPS needed to get involved. They asked me to stay until they got there so they could take my statement.
As i walked back to my apartment, i could hear Eli crying for me. His mom picked him up as he ran toward me and kissed him.
My heart sank as peeled off the clothese that had the scent of babies on them and showered. By the time I was done, they hadn't gotten there yet. I waited and waited and when they finally showed up, I gave my statement.
They walked the apartment and talked to the property manager. They said they were gonna contact grandparents or an aunt and uncle because the apartment condition was not okay for the kids. One officer went back to their vehicle and made a phone call, it sounded as though he was getting in contact to dispatch CPS.
After they told me I could go, my boss called me a hero and told everyone at the office. Everyone said I made the right call and did the right thing.
I would not call myself a hero, but I hope I did the right thing. Last night all I dreamt of were those children and their eyes and how they reminded me so much of my nieces and me and my siblings growing up.
God, I hope I did the right thing.
