Marital Bitch (Men with Badges)

Chapter THIRTY TWO

(Brad)

Congratulations.

WE'RE NOT PREGNANT and it's just something I'm going to have to deal with. I've been dealing with it. I just wish I weren't dealing with it alone, across the street. I am the one who walked out, but that doesn't make it any easier. Whatever my pretty girl's going through, I want to go through it with her; only she doesn't want me to.

Colleen has been crying at the drop of a hat lately and it's wearing me out. When I acknowledge that she's upset, she gets even more upset and tells me to go away. When I pretend that I don't notice the tears, she accuses me of being a heartless bastard. And then there's the eating. The woman eats all the time. I'm starting to wonder if maybe a clearance pregnancy test was such a good idea, because Colleen is reminding me a lot of Darla when she was pregnant.

It's been weeks since we found out that we are not going to have a baby; and we definitely haven't been engaging in any activity that leads to a baby, so it looks like parenthood is out for now—which really sucks. It's not that I have "baby rabies" like chicks get. It's just that having a kid with Colleen would be pretty cool. My pretty girl would make a beautiful baby—crazy, but beautiful.

I don't know what to do with her—not that I ever have. And the worst part is that I don't think she wants me to do anything with her. It feels like I'm losing her more and more every day that goes by that I'm not with her. It's terrifying. I've never been so close to having her and losing her all at the same time.

It's been nearly a week since I left the house. I didn't know what else to do. She didn't want me there. She doesn't seem to want me anywhere, so I left. She didn't exactly say she wants out, but that was the gist of the idea. And now she's here at James's—my refuge—and I can't decide if I want to scream at her or if I want to kiss her; not that that's anything new.

She asks if we can talk and I want to talk to her. It's just bad timing. I'm about to head out on shift and if the conversation goes bad, then the entire shift is going to be awful. And maybe I'm a baby because I can't handle it if she tells me she wants out. Just maybe.

"Here's fine," I say. We have an audience—a bunch of nosey bastards making no attempt to give us any privacy—but whatever. I just want to get this over with. If she's going to leave me, I'd rather it be quick. And if I'm being honest with myself, she looks like she wants to leave me; or the house at least. She wants to run, I can see it. Midway through my frustration at our very private conversation being made public by a bad venue, she starts rambling.

"I love you," she screams at a level I swear I thought only dogs could hear. My mouth falls open. She looks very uncomfortable; her eyes shut tight, fists at her sides. This doesn't look like my Colleen. This is that other Colleen that I don't care for very much. My Colleen isn't afraid of anything; but this woman is terrified. The fear is practically rolling off her in waves, sweat beads forming on her forehead.

Did she just say she loves me?

I'm about to ask her to repeat what she said—just in case I might be hallucinating—when my radio goes off. Very faintly in the background, I can hear Vicky's voice directing me to a burglary in progress. This gives new meaning to the phrase "bad timing." I can't stand here and hash it out with Colleen, and I can't respond to the call before clearing a few things up. For a split second, I'm tempted to ignore the dispatch; but I can't. I would never be able to live with myself if someone got hurt because I was dealing with my own personal crap.

Colleen's talking and I can't hear half of what she's saying, but what I am hearing isn't very f*cking good. I hear "I love you" and then I hear "friend" and then "I love you" again. I shake my head in frustration and ask Vicky to repeat the message as I plug my finger in my ear and hold the radio close to the other one. I think Colleen will get the hint, but she doesn't. Now she's rattling off about something or other. I can't tell if she's telling me she loves, if she's telling me she doesn't want me, or if she's accusing me of something because the last thing I hear is a very loud "you!" coming from her.

Like I said. Bad timing.

"Patrick," Vicky says, agitated. "I said there's a burglary at the corner of Dorchester and Broadway. I know you're not on shift yet, but you're around the corner."

I choose not to think about what Colleen's telling me because I have to respond to this call. At a time like this right now, I wish I were an accountant or something so a work emergency didn't constitute life and death. Unfortunately, that's not the world I live and work in.

I have to answer this call.

I shut Colleen out in an effort to regain my composure and I tell Vicky that James and I will take care of it.

"James! We got a 10-26 over on Dorchester," I shout and clip the radio to my belt. James races down the stairs—as evidenced by the sounds of a stampede that he's making; and we rush for the front door. He tells me not to worry about the car that we'll be faster on foot. Colleen moves to stand between me and the front door. James is behind me and being blocked from going outside and giving me a look that brokers no argument. We have to go.

"Wait!" Colleen yells. I stare at her like she's grown a second head. And hell, she might have. She's started to grow a second ass lately. Not that I'm complaining, she's always been too skinny. "I said I love you!"

What?

So many things happen at once. My heart speeds up as my ears finally register that she is telling me she loves me. She places her hands on her hips, looking put out and ticked off with the burglary around the corner. And James is standing beside me, huffing away. I hear a commotion outside and then screaming; it's faint, but still close by. F*ck. I say the first thing—and probably worst thing—I can think of.

"Yeah, I heard you, crazy. Now, I have to go!" I push past my pretty girl and run out the door and toward the screaming, James on my tail. As we race down the street, I can't help but smile. She said it.

"I'm going to kick your butt when you get home, Bradley Patrick!" Colleen screams from the doorway. I spare a moment to look back at her. She's shaking her fist wildly. She really grew some balls in the last few minutes and it's about f*cking time. My pretty girl loves me.

We turn the corner and arrive on the scene in time to see a late model Cadillac pulling towards us. James and I draw our weapons and order the car to stop. The driver, a haggard old drunk I recognize from a few busts years ago, looks panicked and slams on the gas.

My head is only half in the game as the rest of me is still with Colleen. She loves me. The distraction proves costly and I rush forward just as the car jerks toward me. The driver swerves and knocks me to the ground with the force of the bumper.

Next thing I know James is calling the incident in as an "officer down." I'm lying flat on my back, panting, afraid to move. I can feel my legs and arms. Nothing is numb. My right foot is killing me. The throbbing is out of control. And then the dizziness sets in and everything goes black. In the background I can hear James shouting at the driver and his accomplice. James may be a lot of things, but he's a damn good cop. I know he'll keep them in the car until backup arrives.

The next thing I know I'm in an ambulance, James's at my side, and he's on the phone telling someone I've been hit by a car. He's making it sound much worse than it actually is. In my foggy state, I decide that James has the ability to be a bit of a drama queen. I don't think anything is broken. I'm fairly coherent, and the paramedics aren't freaking out trying to resuscitate me. I'm fine. I try to tell him this but my words are slurred.

"Sir, please just relax," the paramedic orders me. My body is heavy and it's difficult to move so I take her advice. We get to the hospital and they whirl me through the E.R. and a doctor is at my side immediately. James is nowhere to be found. They run all kinds of tests, checking for internal bleeding and broken bones and anything else that might be wrong with me. They find that the big toe on my right foot is broken, but nothing else. When the fog clears and I'm able to talk to the doctor, he determines that I have a mild concussion and the one broken toe; otherwise I'm fine.

It feels like hours later when I'm finally settled in a hospital room. They plan to discharge me in a few hours as long as I don't show signs of any complications. Not a minute after they get me propped up in bed does Colleen come bursting through the door. Her face is bright red and she's covered in snot and tears. My heart falls, realizing how worried she must have been about me.

I open my arms wide and she runs into them, sobbing all along the way. My body is sore and a little uncomfortable with the strength she's using in clinging to me, but I can't bear to let her loosen her grip. Colleen crawls up in the bed with me and curls into my side.

"Shh," I try to calm her, "It's okay pretty girl. I'm okay," I whisper and kiss her on her head. She sobs even harder and hugs me tighter, if that's even possible. A few minutes pass and she calms herself.

"I thought—," she begins, unable to finish her thought.

"I know," I whisper, rubbing her back. "I'm sorry I scared you." She nods and looks up at me. She's a mess.

"I thought you were really hurt and I didn't know what I would do without you," she babbles. Colleen always babbles when she's scared. Her voice gets high-pitched and she talks at hyper-speed. "I love you so much. You can't ever do that to me again." I smile at her words. Hearing her say she loves me after thirty-five years of guessing, wondering, worrying, and she's finally said it to me.

"What was that pretty girl?" I ask, a devious smile on my face.

"I said 'you can't do that to me again' you jackass. I thought you were dying and it was just your dumb toe!" She scowls at me and sniffles. I chuckle.

"No, I don't think that's what you said. Tell me, pretty girl, what did you say?" I say gently, hoping to coax it out of her.

"I said 'you can't do that to me again'. I love you too much!" And the moment she says it, she stops in her tracks; frozen in fear once again. I tilt her chin up and direct her face towards mine, gathering the courage to say to her what I've waited a lifetime to say.

"I love you, pretty girl. I love you when you're bossy. I love you when you're obnoxious. I love you when you're mean. I love you when you're kind. I love you even when I can't stand you." She smiles bright, tears forming in her eyes. She mouths the words 'I love you' back at me and wiggles up to kiss me. The kiss is quiet and gentle.

"I want you to marry me," I say. It takes her a moment to understand what I mean. I want her to marry me the right way. A warmth spreads through me that I can't describe.

"At St. Brigid's," she nods and we both grin. St. Brigid's Catholic Church is where our parents used to drag us every Sunday and for important holidays. St. Brigid's is where we took our communion and where we were baptized. It's more than just a church for us, it's a testament to how we've always been intertwined. Even when we were apart, living our own lives, we've always been connected.

In the middle of our conversation there's a light knock at the door and a nurse walks in. Colleen chooses to ignore her as she checks out my vitals. The brief pull from our fantasy world makes me realize that what I thought was the warmth of Colleen's love spreading through me is actually a hot liquid seeping into the bedding. I look down and realize that Colleen is immobile and her eyes are looking everywhere but at me. Finally she turns towards me, pleading with me not to say anything. About what? The nurse maneuvers around the bed and catches sight of the soaked bed sheets.

"Mr. Patrick," the nurse asks, "Did you have an accident?" My eyes grow wide and I realize what's happened. I may have been hit by a car but I think I'd know if I peed myself. Colleen nods furiously.

"Oh, Bradley," Colleen says all too innocently, "you poor thing!" I look down, trying to inspect.

"That's not my pee," I say, nervously. The nervousness is not helping matters one bit. It's making me look guilty, when really, I'm afraid to find out that it is what I think it is. Because I think Colleen peed on me and that's equal parts disgusting and disturbing.

The nurse walks closer and asks Colleen to stand up. She refuses. Colleen's eyes once again shoot around the room. And that's all the confirmation I need that my pretty girl just peed on me. She peed on me.

I'm not mad, a little grossed out, but not mad. I'm also slightly worried about what would cause a grown woman to pee her pants.

"Ma'am," the nurse persists, "I need to change the sheets." Colleen shakes her head and she starts crying hysterically.

"Okay, it's my pee. Are you happy?" She's yelling, probably alerting the whole damn floor that she peed on me. Just saying it makes it sound like some weird sex game. Colleen flings herself off of me and when she stands I can see the wet spot on the crotch of her yoga pants. Before I can tell her it's okay, even if it kind of isn't, she rushes into the en-suite bathroom and slams the door, wailing on the inside.

The nurse decides to throw me a bone and smiles softly. "It's okay, Mr. Patrick. Lots of women have trouble controlling their bladders when they're pregnant." I pause before responding and think about that. For a few weeks I've had the subtle suspicion on the back of my head that Colleen might be pregnant. I wasn't sure and I thought I might be crazy or it might be wishful thinking; but I didn't have anything else to explain her insanity and weight gain.

"She's not—or we don't know that she is," I fumble over my words; the nurse smiles and nods.

"She is," she says, "I can tell these things." And then she walks out and returns with an orderly who brings in a fresh bed and some supplies. After a few minutes of prodding the nurse convinces Colleen to open the bathroom door and to accept the offered hospital gown. Her small, pale hand slips out, grabs the gown, and jets back in. After some time, she even lets the nurse in the bathroom with her. When she emerges, she's wearing a hospital gown and I'm, thankfully, in a fresh bed and new gown myself. Unfortunately, I also had to undergo a sponge bath from Alejandro, a very nice, but very male nurse.

"Waddle on over here, pretty girl and tell me what you're thinking," I grin. Her face is fuller than it used to be. If this was two months ago, that gown would be like a tent, but now it gently hugs her hips and her breasts appear much larger. She's looking shy and a little nervous.

"I think that first test was wrong, but I'm scared for it to have been right." I nod, understanding that. The negative results from the first test were really hard on her. I don't want her going through that again, but damn if I wouldn't feel better if she were knocked up and not just a drive-by peer. There's a lot I'll live with, but getting peed on in the middle of the night is not one of them—not on a routine basis anyway.

Colleen walks up to me but doesn't crawl in the bed. "I don't want to pee again," she confesses. I reach over and grab her by the hips and pull her up against the bed, letting my hands travel. She squirms under my touch, uncomfortable in her own skin.

"Please let me touch you." I continue to let my hands travel up and down her sides before I go for the gold. She tries to pull away when I touch her stomach, but I refuse to let her.

"Whether this is all you or this is a baby, I love you just the same. I'm not going to judge you, pretty girl." Her body begins to relax and I continue to feel the shape of her abdomen. I'd be lying if I said I could tell from touching her, but I can't.

"That damn nurse made me pee in a cup," she mutters. I laugh loudly.

"You mean you had more in you after that water show?" She smacks my arm and laughs.

"You pee on someone once over a thirty-five year period and they just can't let it go," she smiles ruefully, lips pursed, and giggling.

"When I said I wanted to get you wet, that wasn't exactly what I meant, pretty girl."

"Shut up," she says, still in a fit of giggles.

"I love you," I say. She mouths it back to me. It sounds natural, as it should. Loving Colleen is the most natural thing in the world for me. I don't know another way; but her loving me back still catches me off guard.

The nurse pops her head in just as we're about to kiss. We both turn to her, suddenly a collective ball of nerves, and she nods her head, smiling and mouths 'congratulations'. I lean in and ghost my lips over Colleen's ear as the nurse closes the door to give us some privacy during this very big, life-changing moment for us.

"So, if you're going to be peeing for the next few months, we're going to have to get you a diaper, pretty girl." She turns her head and narrows her eyes at me, full of playfulness; and then breaks into a big, teary grin.

"We're having a baby," she whispers. I nod. We're having a baby.