callie

i couldn't get into writing Joeie because of her age... like it felt fine to think about, but any time I tried to write anything, it felt weird.  But I wanted to keep Jeremy and Justin because... a part of me does want to be Joeie, I just can't write about it in the same way these days.  So I decided to figure out a happy medium... a grad school student who eventually wants to be treated like a little sister.  

x-x-x

The phone call came only a few hours after I arrived alone at my new grad school home in New Jersey (as far away from my hometown as I could get).  It was from my social work fieldwork advisor, and her tone gave away the bad news before she could break it to me.  

“Sorry, Callie, they weren’t able to approve your request.  You’ll have to find a different field placement.”

I let out an exasperated groan.  I’d found the perfect nonprofit to work with, where I’d be able to use my Spanish skills to help immigrants.  The problem was that the supervisor wasn’t a licensed social worker, so couldn’t sign off on my internship hours.  FML.  Now there wouldn’t be much left.

“Maybe I have another opportunity you’d be interested in.  You’ll also be able to work with the Spanish-speaking population, helping out with, like, domestic disputes.”

Why did this start sounding like an episode of Cops?  “What do you mean?  I don’t really want to do therapy…”

“A nonprofit has recently teamed up with the police department of Newark in an effort to collaborate and better work with vulnerable populations, like immigrants and families with low socioeconomic status.” 

“What would I do?”

“You’d be paired with an officer and go out on calls with him where a social worker presence might be helpful.”

“Umm… I don’t know…”

“Your safety would be a priority.” 

Oh, that wasn’t my concern (like seriously, why am I even still alive?).  But spending 3 days a week in such close proximity to a cop?  No thank you.  

“Most of the cases would be child welfare, so allegations of abuse or neglect.  Or truancy investigations.”

“Are there any other options?”

There was a brief pause, a half-sigh.  “Callie, what do you want to do after you graduate?  What are you passionate about?” 

I felt a pang in my chest as I remembered my ex-boyfriend, recently deported (with help of… you guessed it… the cops).  “I just want to help immigrants.”

“What better way to help immigrants than to help prevent them from being racially profiled and mistreated by the police?  Think about how much the police force needs a feminist presence.  Think about the long term impact you could have on our criminal justice system.”

Well… when she put it that way, it was hard to refuse.

And that’s how I ended up in front of the police station on Tuesday morning, bright and early, iced coffee in hand.  My heart pounded against my ribcage as I was introduced to Officer Jeremy Mendoza, a guy I could tell from the moment he shook my hand that I would both hate and love him.