"It's not that bad, I got it checked out two days ago at a drop-in clinic just to be safe. Doctor there said I probably stretched the tendons some, but that nothing seemed torn. I told him I fell doing martial arts practice."
I balled up the paper in the kitchen, the rattling covering about half of what I said next, and I had to repeat myself a little louder. "Nice cover. But still, take it easy until after the New Year. I think you earned it."
"I'm trying, but to be honest, I'm kind of having trouble letting it go," he said. We went out the back door and went over to the flip-top rolling canisters that the city insisted we use. Lugging those down to the curb once a week sucked. At least sorting the trash was easy, we did that usually in the kitchen. Cans in one, plastic in a second, food and paper in a third. "I haven't been sleeping well."
"Good," I replied, causing Patrick to do a double take. I nodded, reaffirming my point. "You should be upset about it. Patrick, I saw her injuries as much as you did. You know Melinda Pressman didn't die from the gunshot wounds. And I don't think she got knocked out from just landing on the chair wrong, did she?"
Patrick shook her head. "No, but still, I mean, I was defending myself. Shouldn't I feel at least a little less guilty about it?"
I sighed and shook my head. "Did you know that night I reached a milestone? One hundred people have died by my hands. One hundred people's blood stains my soul. That's a mark that a lot of hitmen never reach, and those that do, well, usually they're the sort of person that I wouldn't trust within ten miles of my daughter.
"I told Sophie when we met that I have always refused to kill innocents, but that doesn't mean all one hundred were total bastards deserving of the death penalty. Jail, sure. A bullet in the head, or poison, or a bomb in their cars? No, not all of them. And I've injured or even crippled dozens more. Before you ask, the answer is yes, most of them were before I met Sophie, so they weren't in pursuit of a good cause."
It was good to unload some of my burden to Patrick, who watched me with somber acceptance in his eyes. It wasn't that he was a man, and that Sophie was a woman. It was that Sophie was my wife, my soulmate, she'd always accept me. Patrick wasn't, so to have him accept what I was saying meant something a bit different, and in its own way a bit more relieving. I guess that's why men for millennia have gone down to the local bar, pub, tavern, or whatever not so much to drink, but just to unload their mental burdens with others who think like they do.
"So does it get easier?" Patrick asked me, his eyes carrying a shadow I had grown all too familiar with. His question caused me to pause, and to shake myself out of the rapidly darkening funk I was getting into.
"God I hope not," I finally replied. "I guess what keeps me going is that there is something to fight for now. They're inside, waiting for us to finish cleaning up. Although you and I have another way to fight, too."
"How's that?" Patrick asked. He looked so earnest, yet so unaware. While only by a year or two, it was hard to believe that he was older than me. I guess experience had aged me more than I wanted to admit.
I chuckled, thinking about the hours I'd talked this subject over with Sophie and even Tabby. "I've got to get you reading more. Von Calusewitz. War is the continuation of politics by other means. You and I, we have other means. You have politics, in case you forgot. I have money, a lot of it. Combined, it makes the four of us very, very powerful.”
Patrick nodded, then thought. "You know, next year's mayoral election might be too early, but five years from now....."
I clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. "Exactly. Think of what MJT money and your politics can do in those five years. But for now, let's go enjoy Christmas. I think there's another gift in there for you, at least Sophie mentioned it to me."
"Really? What, a new car?"
I shook my head, thinking Tabby's gift would be a lot more memorable than a new car. "Nope. We'll check around, see if we can find it under the tree or something. Just no waking the baby."
Chapter Four
Tabby