62
claire
Chris and I tuck the kids into bed one night a few weeks later, and reconvene on the couch to watch TV. It’s Sunday and he worked most of the day, but he took a break to go to Josh’s soccer game and he stopped early enough so we could take the kids out for dinner. He seems happier, even with his stressful workload and the large amount of time he has to spend away from home. Even without
the antidepressants. Instead of shutting me out he answers my questions when I ask about work. He shares with me how frustrated he is.
We’re watching the end of a CSI rerun when the local news interrupts programming with a special report. I watch the BREAKING NEWS banner flashing at the top of the screen and feel a prickle of unease because whatever we’re about to learn is significant enough to disrupt prime-time programming.
The news anchor begins speaking and I lean forward a bit, listening as he reports that two police officers have been shot during a routine traffic stop. The station cuts to live footage, which shows flashing lights, police cars, fire trucks, and barricades. “Can you tell where that is?” Chris asks. I don’t answer him because I’m searching the faces of the police officers who are trying to maintain order and hold back the onlookers. The anxiety increases a bit when I realize that Daniel isn’t one of the officers I can identify in the crowd.
It can’t be him. There’s no way it’s him.
But it might be him. I don’t know if he’s on duty tonight, but this is the shift he works. I fight the urge to slip out of the room, send him a text. I might not be able to see him anymore, but that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about his well-being. The news report ends with a promise from the anchor to keep viewers updated as more information becomes available.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Chris says.
“No,” I say. My worry increases. You’re being foolish, I tell myself. Daniel wouldn’t have anyone in his police car. He patrols alone. But Daniel told me once that a routine traffic stop is one of the most dangerous things a police officer faces. “You never know what the person behind the wheel is thinking,” he said. “What they’re going to do. If they’re armed.”
CSI comes back on, but I’m no longer paying attention. The nightly news will start in a few minutes and then I’ll know more. I’ll know that Daniel is safe.
The shooting is the first story the nightly news covers. For five minutes they repeat the same information they’ve already given viewers, but then Daniel’s name suddenly flashes on the screen and I stand up so fast that my knee hits the coffee table and sends my glass of water flying.
“Claire!” Chris says. “What is it?”
I scramble for the remote control and turn up the volume. The anchor reports that Daniel Rush and Justin Chambers, the reserve officer riding along with him, have been transported to the hospital. Their conditions are unknown.
I sit down on the very edge of the couch, feeling panicked. I can’t answer Chris. It’s as if the wind has been knocked right out of me, and I can’t speak.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he says.
My heart is pounding and I have that awful feeling, the kind where the adrenaline makes your whole body vibrate with anxiety. “I know one of those officers. He’s a friend of mine.”
His forehead creases in confusion. “Which one?”
Hysteria bubbles up inside me. I feel it building and want to shout, “The ridiculously good-looking one!” but I take a deep breath and say, “Daniel Rush.”
Chris ponders this for a moment. “I don’t understand. How do you know him?”
“I did a freelance assignment for the police department.”
“But you said you were friends with him. What do you mean?”
I thought breaking things off with Daniel would mean that I’d never have this conversation with Chris. But suddenly I want to have this conversation. Need to have it. Daniel’s life could be hanging in the balance, and I’m not going to downplay our friendship, even if I have to pay for it. “We got to know each other pretty well,” I say.
“How well?”
I can almost see the lightbulb flickering above Chris’s head.
He stands up and takes a step back, exhaling in one fast breath. “Jesus, Claire. Are you trying to tell me you were having an affair with this guy? Because if you are, just say it.”
I shake my head. “I never slept with him. I never did anything like that with him.”
“Well, what did you do?” Chris asks, appearing only slightly relieved.
“We talked,” I say. “We texted. We went to lunch, to dinner. We spent time together.”
“How much time?” Chris’s face is flushed and he’s getting louder by the second. “And why didn’t you ever tell me about him?”
“When would you have had time to listen?” I ask, my voice also getting louder. “Do you know how many times I stood outside your office door waiting for you to come out and talk to me? Or laid there in bed wondering if you were going to join me? Put your arms around me and let me know in some small way that you still cared? There was always something more important to you than me.” I take a deep breath and lower my voice. “He was there when you weren’t.”
“I thought you would wait for me. You’re my wife. I thought you of all people would understand.” Chris’s shoulders slump and he runs a hand through his hair. “I feel like I don’t know you at all. How am I supposed to trust you now, Claire?”
If Chris only knew how many times I longed for Daniel to hold me in his arms, and how many times I resisted the physical pull of him. But that won’t help anything now. He won’t want to hear any of it.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you, Chris. That was never my intent. But Daniel could be dying right now, and I will not be okay if that happens. He was important to me. I need to know that he’s all right.”
Chris walks away and moments later I hear the office door slam.
I relocate to the bedroom and watch news coverage continually, flipping between all the stations, desperate for an update on Daniel’s condition. I feel powerless. There’s no one I can call, and I have a better understanding of how Daniel must have felt when I was in the hospital. I keep the bedroom door closed because I don’t want to be bothered, but it doesn’t matter because Chris never comes upstairs. Additional details trickle in and I gasp in horror when I learn that Daniel—and the reserve officer who rushed to his aid—both sustained gunshot wounds to the head.
My thoughts race and images of Daniel flash before my eyes like a slide show that’s moving too fast toward an outcome I can’t even contemplate.