I met Marc Favinger when he was thirty-two and I was a fresh-out-of-high-school eighteen year old. Marc's parents introduced us and he smiled and made a big deal of showing me his room.
"I gots all my police stuff up on that shelf there!"
I looked up on the shelf and there were pictures of him with the mayor and the governor getting some kind of award, there was his badge in a shadow box, and there, too, encased in acrylic was the bullet that had changed his life forever.
My job was to be his daycare worker. The agency had sent me over in a hurry since Marc's mother needed a surgery and the parents had to leave town.
It was singularly saddening to look at the vibrant life this wonderfully handsome man had once had and then to turn and see the child he had become. As his elderly parents related it to me he had been out on patrol when he pulled up to a stop light and some kids pulled up next to his cruiser. The kids had their music on and it was blaringly loud. The light turned green and Marc let them pull ahead before he got behind them and turned on his lights. The kids pulled over and stopped and Marc approached the driver's side of the car. This part was on the video from Marc's dashboard mounted camera: a hand reached out from the backseat as Marc leaned in to talk to the driver and shot Marc in the head.
I remembered the story as his parents told it because a police dispatcher had been listening in on the stop and the story got out on the news. The news reported how the dispatcher had remained calm while she radioed the 'officer down' call out to every law officer within range. Sheriff and police helicopters from cities three hundred miles away came as fast as they could to join in the search for a potential cop killer.
It was a lone deputy from a distant county who ended up in a firefight with the criminals. They'd exchanged pistol shots and then the deputy, a former Navy SEAL, reached into his car for his H-K sub-machine gun and subsequently ended the battle. The four gangbangers who'd tried to kill a cop to "make their bones" would, in the relatively near future, become nothing but bones themselves.
It was hard to look at this painfully handsome man and try to hold back tears as the words of a six-year old came out of his mouth.
We went back to the living room where his father took up the conversation.
"Lizzie, you be careful with Marc cause the boy don't know his own strength no more. He done went and busted the arm on the last caretaker when she wouldn't let him watch some cartoon show on the tee-vee. He wants to do that kind of thing then you just go on and let him. The boy lost the part of mind where he don't take no for an answer, you understand?"
I nodded that I did.
"Okay, now we got you staying in the guest room. You got your own shower and all and I expect you to do your business in there. Marc'll just bust in on you if you go in the other bathrooms but he knows to stay out of the guest room. If he gets out of hand you get into that room and you'll be fine. Now you're gonna need to keep these phone numbers handy just in case...."
He went on in his pleasant country accent telling me my duties and chores and when meals were expected. After another exchange of pleasantries Mr. and Mrs. Favinger said their goodbyes and Marc and I waved at them as they drove away.
The rest of the day turned out to be a lot of fun, really. Marc and I had a great time playing video games and when dinner was ready he was at the table with his best manners and we had a nice chat. I asked a little about his time as a police officer and it was pretty clear that he remembered very little of his life prior to the shooting. There were little snippets of moments where he'd be a normal man and then he'd slip right into his present.
We watched a kids movie I'd seen a few times before and he laughed at all the ridiculous plot lines and it seemed sort of surreal to see a man older than myself laughing like a child at inane humour. In due course we were both sleepy.
"Marc, it's time to go to bed, don't you think?"
"Yeah. I don't want no help, okay? I can go to bed by myself."
And with that pronouncement he got up and stripped himself naked in front of me and handed me his clothes in a bundle. Then he just turned and padded off to his bedroom. I have to admit that this was a little shocking to me. It wasn't just that I'd never seen a naked man before (my boyfriend doesn't count...trust me on this!) but I'd never imagined that a man could be hung like Marc was! It was an awful shame that he'd never marry and have a family because any wife of his would've been a very happy woman. Indeed!
I went off and got into my nightie before checking on Marc. I opened his door as quietly as I could and found him snoring away and still quite naked. Gently, I took a blanket and covered him up and he snuggled into it just like the little kid he seemed to be. With that I went off to my own room and a nice sleep.
The alarm clock went off at six the next morning and I made my first stop in the bathroom. My cramps had come during the night and the proof that I was ovulating was the bit of a mess in my panties. I took them off and had them soaking in the sink and decided that I'd wait til after breakfast before I took a shower and put on clean ones.
I made my way to the kitchen and soon had the coffee going and had started on the scrambled eggs when Marc, still naked, came out to the kitchen and sat down.
"Morning!" came his cheerful greeting as he sat down and went to work on a juice box. He might've had the mind of a six-year old but he sure did have the body of a man. In typical male fashion he had awakened with an impressive hard-on and I felt quite ashamed for having stared at it briefly. I was quite glad he hadn't caught me.
"Marc, maybe you ought to go get a robe on?"
He looked up from his juice box and thought about it for a moment.
"No."
And he went right back to the juice.
"Marc, maybe you really should get something on. You'd be more comfortable, don't you think?"
