The officer’s eyes moved across my screen.
Tell them you’re confused, Camila.
I only called because you’re not acting like yourself.
Open the door and we’ll talk about the $2,100.
For several seconds, nobody said anything.
The younger officer looked from the phone to me.
The older one lowered his notepad slightly.
Behind them, the apartment hallway was silent.
I had spent the last twelve hours wondering whether changing a lock had been dramatic.
Standing there in my graduation T-shirt with two police officers outside my door, I suddenly understood how thoroughly my mother had trained me to distrust my own boundaries.
The older officer pointed toward the phone.
“Is that from your mother?”
“Yes.”
“And the $2,100?”
“She wants it for my sister’s Sweet 16.”
He waited.
I knew what the silence was asking.
“So what happened before she called us?”
I almost laughed, but nothing about the moment was funny.
“My family skipped my graduation three days ago.”
The younger officer glanced toward the navy gown hanging beside the door.
“I graduated with my master’s degree,” I continued.
“Nobody came.
Then Tuesday night my mother texted asking for $2,100 for Avery’s party.
I sent her one dollar.
I changed my locks because she had a spare key and has let herself into my apartment before.”
The older officer’s expression stayed neutral, but his voice changed.
Less cautious.
More procedural.
“Did you tell anyone you were going to hurt yourself?”
“No.”
“Are you in danger?”
“No.”
“Do you need medical help?”
“No.”
“Did you threaten your mother or your sister?”
“No.”
He nodded once and wrote something down.
My phone buzzed again.
Mom.
I did not touch it.
The younger officer asked, “Has she been trying to reach you this morning?”
I looked at the screen.
Nine missed calls.
“Apparently.”
“Were you asleep?”
“I was making coffee.”
That answer was so ordinary that something inside me almost broke.
Coffee.
A locked door.
A morning without sending anyone money.
Those were the facts my mother had turned into an emergency.
The older officer handed my phone back.
“You appear alert, oriented, and safe.
We’ll document that we made contact.”
I swallowed.
