My Husband the Outlaw

I come home from preschool with Ewan to a phone message, "This is Detective R. from the Austin Police Department. I need to speak with Bryce Taylor..."

Um, OK? What?

So I called, and this sexually ambiguous sounding person answered the phone, and we began to speak. First he/she said, "I need to speak with Bryce, can he not call me?" He/she then started saying things like, "It might be nothing, there might not be anything to worry about," the tone of It's voice totally sounding like Bryce is being accused of some dark, sinister, horrible thing. I couldn't help thinking, this is the end of our life as we know it. "I then calmly, oh so calmly, explained I am his wife, I can't get a hold of him. And that being his wife, hearing a message from a detective looking for my husband is a little concerning. After a ten minute conversation, I learned that my husband was in Austin in October 12 at a gas station stealing beer. In a brown Honda. Huh. Imagine that. So that was Bryce's clone his parents and I were having dinner with in Downtown G.P.? And who was that man who bathed my children?!

We've never owned a brown Honda, and it still hasn't been officially cleared up, but we did sell a green Honda a while back. It was at this point in the phone call the detective, who I later discovered owned the first name Ava (she, indeed), said something like, "I can see a witness confusing a green car with a brown one." Like she totally didn't believe me. And I know, I understand these are detective and they have their leads to follow, but you could just hear the guilty conviction hanging over both our heads. They are waiting for video from the gas station to come back so they can compare it with his driver's license.

We just hope you'll come visit him at Sing Sing. And be sure to bake a knife into the pie you bring us. Bryce likes apple.