“Sometimes you just have to trust they will come to you when they need you, Lib. He’s not a kid, you know? He’s a young man, and if he’s going to make something of himself, you need to realize he has to make mistakes, and he has to learn from them.”
“He had a pocketknife, Hetch.” I understand her concern, but I only spoke to Mitch two days ago. We had our normal one-on-one time; and like all our other sessions, he was polite and talked about school with ease. He assured me his brother hadn’t been hassling him.
“So did I at that age. And I lived at home with my parents. He lives in a group home setting. You have to realize these boys are never going to be normal teenagers. They're bound to slip up, most kids do.”
“I know. It’s just, I–I don’t know. I’m probably over thinking it. I worry about him.”
“I know you do. It’s one of your strengths, but also one of your weaknesses.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I can’t see her face, but I can just imagine it pinched, eyebrows raised in a “how dare you say that” way.
“You know what it means, B. It’s great you care. I love that about you. But sometimes I worry you’re too close. My dad was the same with his kids when he was a youth counselor. He’d become so invested, they were almost as important to him as Kota and I were.” I pause, amazed I didn’t freeze up. “It didn’t upset us, but sometimes I wondered why he cared so much when he had his own family.”
“You know, that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you talk freely about your dad,” she states cautiously, and I can hear she’s unsure if she should even bring it up.
“Yeah, well, the quack I’ve been seeing seems to be helping.” My laugh is forced, uneasiness weighing my body down.
“You’re seeing someone?” Her tone is hopeful, and I can’t help feel it along with her.
“Yeah, it’s helping. A lot.”
“I’m glad, Hetch. That’s really good.”
“I’m trying hard here, sweetheart,” I offer all I can.
“Will you tell me about him? Your dad, I mean.” I don’t answer right away, too busy focusing on my raised heartbeat and trying to ease it.
“Ahh, what do you want to know?” I answer when I’ve managed to clear my throat, and push down my anxiety.
“What was his name?”
It’s a simple question. Easy enough to answer, but still, it takes a few beats before I can.
“Samuel. Sam for short.” The same ache that’s rooted deep within me whenever I think about him starts to throb. Only this time, I’m not going to bury it. Instead, I’m going to let myself feel it, allow myself to mourn. If I’ve learned anything in my sessions with Dr. Anderson, it’s that death is something you never heal from. Unlike how a scab heals, or a scar fades, the absence of someone you love never disappears. His death will be a part of my life forever, a part of me. And if I want to prove to Liberty I’m the man she deserves, then I need to let it be a part of us too.
“Dad wanted to name me Sam Junior, but Mom wanted Liam. Clearly, Mom won. Samuel is my middle name, though. I guess they both kind of won.”
“Yet, both of you went by Hetch?”
“Yeah. He just wanted his kid to have the same name. Mom never understood it. I thought it was cool.”
“I wish I could have met him,” she whispers, and all of a sudden, I do too. Wish he could have met the woman who changed my life, who pulled me out of my own darkness and forced me to see the light.
“Me too, sweetheart. He would have liked you. Not because of your job, just you as a person.”
“Thank you for calming me down.” She doesn’t ask anything else about my dad, and I’m neither relieved nor disappointed. I'm content.
“No problem, I charge by the hour.”
She laughs at my response, and my gut tightens at the sound. My joke, though lame, makes her laugh that carefree laugh of hers I haven’t heard in what seems like forever, so I can’t be too embarrassed with myself.
“I should get to sleep. I have an early day tomorrow.” Disappointment floats over me, but I don’t let it show.
“Miss you, B.” She doesn’t reply right away, so I press on. “You don’t have to tell me you miss me too. I know you do.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I’m right. Admit it.”
“Goodnight, Hetch.” She ignores my bait, but I don’t let her get away too easily.
“Only one more day, Liberty,” I warn, wishing it would hurry the fuck up.
One more day and she is mine.
“The boys and I are heading to The Elephant after this. You in or has your woman taken you back finally?” Sterling asks the following afternoon. We’re sitting in the staff room at SWAT headquarters. After a full shift of training today, we were getting ready to call it a day when we were called in by the lieutenant for an impromptu meeting.
No reasons were given.
“I’ll come for one drink. Then I’m out.” It’s the last thing I want to do tonight, but after my first full week back with the team, I should try and make an effort to hang with them outside of work.