It’s odd that I was dreaming about my daughter the moment before I opened my eyes and saw her peering at me beside my night stand. In the inky darkness of my bedroom I could just make out her six year old outline: her hands threaded together at her waist, fulfilling her dubious mien when disturbing someone of authority, chubby cheeks that always pulled her lips into a smirk, that curly blonde hair she got from her mother who was delicately snoring beside me. I was groggy and no sunlight had penetrated the windows yet so I knew it was the middle of the night.
“Lucy?”
“Daddy, there’s a man in the baby’s room.”
Such sinister words from the sweetest voice.
In a flash, I ripped the covers from my body, waking my wife in the process, then raced down the hallway, past the pictures hung on the wall, and into the bedroom on the end. With a simple flick of a switch, I was exposed to my two-month-old son’s room: the mint colored walls, the boxes of gifted diapers from the baby shower, a basket of plush animals, a tub of pacifiers and wipes. But behind the crib where my son, Noah, was sleeping was something appalling.
An intruder crawling through the window.
The intruder craned his neck when the light blasted on and alerted him of my presence. It was then when I noticed the knife. The man was large, with greasy long hair and an unkempt beard. He smelled of body odor and that sour, putrid smell of vaporized drugs. I leapt into action before he could achieve a sturdy footing or leverage the knife to his advantage. I skirted the crib where my son still slept and removed a heavy bookend from the bookcase, then, as unsupported baby books tumbled off the shelf, I bludgeoned the intruder in the arms as he flailed and teetered on the window sill. After the intruder took several missed swipes with the knife, my aim became focused on his head. After my weapon made contact with his skull a few times he withdrew into the backyard, lumbering awkwardly around our flower bed before hobbling over our fence and disappearing into the dark street.
I picked up Noah, who thankfully, was still sleeping and oblivious, and held him firmly against my chest.
“What’s going on? Why is the window open?” I heard my wife ask behind me as she came into Noah’s room.
“Call 911, now. We just had an intruder.”
“What?” She laughed.
“Now,” I demanded, loud enough to vocally project my fear but unintentionally lifted Noah from slumber.
She phoned the police as I flipped on every light switch in the house, especially the exterior ones, and cruised through the rooms with Noah on my hip, doing my best to calm him. It took two laps through the living room but eventually he was calm enough for my wife and I to talk after her phone call.
“Will you tell me what happened?” She asked.
“Yeah. Sorry I yelled earlier. I was just emotional, ya know?”
“It’s okay. What happened?”
“Somebody was trying to break into the house through Noah’s room. I forgot to lock the window after we painted his room. Remember, we opened it for ventilation? I’m so sorry honey. Something could of-”
“Stop it,” my wife demanded. “Noah’s okay. You’re okay. I’m okay. Everyone is fine.”
“You’re right.”
“Police are on their way. They’ll find the guy.”
“He won’t be hard to pick out of a lineup. Some drug-addled thief looking for a score.”
“What made you wake up? Was Noah crying?”
I paused for a moment to consider an answer then looked at my curious-eyed son. “Yeah, Noah’s crying woke me.”
“I feel terrible. I slept right through his crying fit.”
“Don’t worry. Everything turned out for the best. How about some coffee, hun?”
She went to the kitchen and I heard the coffee pot being washed. I took Noah to the hallway and propped his body up on my side so he was eye level with the photographs that lined the hallway. I showed my son a picture of a six year old girl with blonde curls that flanked a grin between chubby cheeks.
“That’s Lucy, Noah. She’s your big sister.”
Noah, with tiny, stumpy fingers, reached out and planted a palm on the frame.
“I always knew she would be a great sister. She died before you were born, Noah, and your mother and I miss her everyday. But it’s good to know she’s still looking out for her little brother. ”