My wife vs. the man in the bushes

Palm Coast Observer
Opinion

My wife called me while I was at the office the other day and said there was a guy at our house.

I imagined a man in a suit and tie at the door, telling us we are the heirs of a great fortune from a distant relative. I was starting to spend the money in my mind, when she finished her sentence.

“He’s hiding in the bushes in the backyard.”

“Is that a problem?” I asked, adjusting the vision of this visitor to that of a man with a wide-brimmed hat, a famous shrubologist who wanted to tell us that one of our shrubs was rare and worth millions.

“I think he’s a prowler,” she said.

Perhaps, I thought, this is a prowler who has stolen a great deal of money and would promise us a cut if we harbored him?

She was concerned, being home alone with our young daughter. I suggested she call 911. I didn’t offer to come home, but it’s not because I’m callous: I had a meeting in a few minutes, and if I didn’t hurry up, I wouldn’t have time to finish my Chinese food.

Hailey called 911, and a deputy came over. He said they had been looking for a suspicious person in the area. She raised her right hand and gave a sworn statement, and not long thereafter, the deputies returned and told her the man had been caught, thanks in part to her phone call. Apparently, the man had been knocking on doors and asking residents if he could use their phone. He was charged with a misdemeanor for loitering/prowling.

Now, I’m not saying my wife is Batman. She was wearing pajamas, not a black cape. She was walking across the kitchen to get a piece of watermelon, not to respond to the bat signal, when she saw the opportunity to save the world. But raising that right hand to fight crime shows she has that craving for danger, that vigilante spirit that attracted me to her from the first time I laid eyes on her in English 251.

And so, I expect that the next stranger to come to our house will have an offer I can’t refuse: An option for a movie. The right to depict her heroics on the big screen. And I can be her Robin, cheering her on from a distance, eating General Tso’s chicken and pork fried rice from my utility belt.