Now, he had some problems reading and writing but comic books were perfect. Thus he’d be through that huge pile before Tuesday, even if the staff kept their folks occupied with a variety of things, with Andy pitching in to help out because he was a lot more functional than many of them.
I walked out of Sunnydown, got in my car, and for some reason, I wasn’t even at the town limits (way earlier than normal) before I had to start chanting.
“Not yet, Greta.”
I hit the Glossop town limits.
“Not yet, girl.”
I hit my neighborhood.
“Not yet, baby.”
I drove up my driveway, switched off the car, jumped out and walked to the side door.
I let myself in, whispering, “Not yet.”
I turned on the light on the counter in my kitchen that made the space seem so cozy.
Then I went into the living room and turned on the light dimmed low by the side of my couch.
I moved back into the kitchen, right to the stove, set the gas going and put on the kettle.
Only then did I turn to the island, brace my hands on the edge and let it happen like I always allowed myself to let it happen so I could deal.
In other words I let myself think of Andy’s sloped shoulders and how he’d look if he’d been able to be the man he’d been becoming.
I let myself think of the fact that Andy had never, nor would ever drive a car by himself.
He’d also never read In Cold Blood, not because he couldn’t, but because much of it he wouldn’t remember even after he’d just read it and the going would be so tough, it would only frustrate him and send him into an episode.
He wouldn’t ever have a girlfriend.
He wouldn’t ever make love.
He wouldn’t fall for someone, marry her, make babies with her, giving me nieces and nephews to spoil. Giving all of us big, crazy, loud holidays.
My brother, my baby, my Andy, he’d never realize a dream. He’d never even feel the despair because he hadn’t realized one.
He might not even remember what happened that day.
I hadn’t been right when I’d told Lou I’d never hoped for anything, dreamed anything.
I had.
For Andy.
From the moment he’d been put in my arms, I’d hoped and dreamed that he would have everything he could ever wish for. And I’d wanted to do everything I could to give him a life where he’d have the smarts and the strength to make that happen.
I’d wanted him to have all I’d never had. I’d wanted to make him feel he was never missing a thing.
I’d done all I could and he was on that road.
He was on the road to being magnificent.
Then she’d taken it all away.
From Andy.
From me.
Now he was a different kind of magnificent.
But that wasn’t what I’d wanted for my Andy.
My eyes were shut tight holding the wet back when the kettle whistled.
My time was done.
I opened them.
I sniffed.
Then I turned around and made myself some tea.
I took it to my porch and picked up my book.
That night, I didn’t take in the calm of my street.
I opened my book, and after the time it took me to force my mind to concentrate, I started reading.
I wouldn’t let myself think again about all Andy had lost.
Not until next Sunday.
It’s Not That
Hixon
HIX WALKED INTO his department Monday morning to see Hal at his desk.
“Yo, Hix,” Hal called and smiled a smile that Hix didn’t like all that much. “Good weekend?”
Clearly, from his read on Hal’s smile, news that Hix had been to the Dew and had waited outside for Greta had made the rounds.
“Yeah,” he grunted, moving down the aisle toward his office.
As he got close to Hal’s desk, the man unsurprisingly (considering it was Hal) had the balls to ask, “This hairdresser the reason Bets is acting like she’s perpetually on the rag?”
Hix halted and turned only his head to his deputy.
He liked all his deputies—in their jobs and out of them—including Bets when she wasn’t being a pain in his ass.
Not including Hal.
He was a good enough deputy.
But he was an asshole.
His voice said things Hix wasn’t going to verbalize, but he still made them clear when he replied, “How ’bout I leave your private life to you, you let me have mine, and you don’t say shit about Bets like that at all in anything owned by this county, like this building, your cruiser, during your time earning a paycheck or to anyone who’s also on the county’s dime.”
What Hix hadn’t verbalized was that Hal’s private life included the fact he’d been a cop in Kansas City until his wife had become fed up with him chasing skirt.
She’d given him an ultimatum: they changed their lives in order to assist him in changing his ways or they were done.
Instead of cutting her loose, what he should have done, he’d changed their lives. They’d moved up to Glossop and he’d moved into his position as a deputy.
But he hadn’t changed his ways.
He had a steady woman on the side and a couple of other not-as-steady ones he also saw.
Who he banged, and so many of them not being his wife, was unfortunately not something Hix could release him for.
Hal did the job, had a number of years on it, was as good at it as he could be, considering nothing ever happened, so Hix was stuck.
Therefore Hix put up with him.
But Larry only tolerated him.
And Bets tried to avoid him because he razzed her about Hix, also about being a rookie, and lastly she avoided him because he was an asshole.
Donna detested him and was professional enough to work beside him without hurling, but that was the extent of it.
This last came to a head after they’d solved the burning mystery of the farmer whose chickens were getting stolen (the farmer’s daughter’s boyfriend said farmer wouldn’t let her date was doing the deed).
Donna and Hal had worked that, and after they sat in his office reporting on it, Donna had turned to Hal and declared, “If I have to sit in a squad and listen to your trashy sex talk with one of your floozies again, Hal, I’ll forget about the protect-and-serve brotherhood and share with Ashlee you can’t keep your dick in your pants. Don’t test me. This is your only warning.”
She’d gotten up after that and walked out.
Hal had turned to Hix, clearly feeling the brotherhood he didn’t consider Donna a part of because she had a badge but not a dick would commiserate, but Hix just stared at him until the man spoke.
“I just—”
Hix had lifted a hand. “Not my business. But Donna’s right. That shit does not happen on county time. You got life stuff with family and friends you need to deal with on the job, that’s not an issue. You wanna talk like that with one of your women on the county’s time, we got a problem. Now, you want my counsel, I’ll tell you to keep your dick in your pants for anyone but your wife. You want my opinion, I don’t like how it reflects on this department that you don’t. Since you didn’t ask my counsel or my opinion, I gotta keep my mouth shut about both. I won’t, I find any more of your shit happens on the job.”
“Everyone takes personal calls on the job,” he’d defended.
“And right now I’m tellin’ you, my deputies don’t take that kind of personal call on the job,” Hix returned.
Hal said nothing.
So Hix did.