Marcus
TWO WEEKS.
That’s how much time has gone by since I held that little boy in my arms. As soon as I took down the father, I ran over to him but knew he was dead as soon as I picked him up. His lifeless body lay in my lap and all I could do was stare down at him. The world around me was reduced to a dull buzzing. I couldn’t even hear the mother’s screams as she dropped to her knees beside me.
Should I have taken the shot and risked hitting the boy? Even if I hit the father, there’s a good chance his gun would have still gone off if it didn’t kill him instantly. Would the child have survived though?
Those questions plagued me for many days constantly. It’s all I could think about. Hell, I sometimes still second guess my decision to try to talk him down until more help arrived. That’s the hard part about what I do. We get mere seconds, sometimes much less, to make life altering decisions. There are no do-overs in my line of work. You either make the right decision or you don’t. No matter what they tell you in the academy and how much they train you before sending you out on patrol, no one ever teaches you how to deal with the aftermath of a wrong choice. Hopefully, with time, the screams won’t be so loud and the images in my head won’t be so vivid.
We got a call for harassment from the wife the other day. I didn’t hear all the details since I’m at a desk until the investigation is over, but apparently the husband had a mistress that the wife found out about. The mistress has been making several threats lately, so we sent someone to check it out. So far, no arrests have been made that I’m aware of.
Lydia has been amazing through all of this. She’s been staying the night with me a lot lately, bringing her work over here to finish designs or put in orders she didn’t complete at the office. I really like having her around. I never realized how empty and lifeless the place was until she became a constant presence. More than that though, I really needed her right after the incident happened. I don’t care if that makes me sound fucking weak or like I can’t handle my job, but it’s the truth. She was the balm to my brokenness.
Looking at the clock on my bedside table, I see it’s already eight o’clock. Today is my day off, but it also marks the end of the investigation for discharging my weapon, resulting in the death of someone. I roll out of bed and go after the bright spot in my dark days.
Once I reach the bottom of the stairs, I see her sitting at the kitchen island. I take this moment to study her. She has on one of my T-shirts, which has risen up to reveal her long, lean legs. Her hair is tossed up, giving me a perfect view of her stretched out neck that I want to attach my lips to. With her back to me, she doesn’t see me admiring her as she focuses on her computer.
Walking up to her quietly, I place my hands on her shoulders and give her a kiss on the neck. She jumps in response but soon relaxes when she realizes it’s just me.
“Good morning,” I greet before kissing her some more.
“Mmmm, good morning,” she says.
I pull my lips off of her soft skin and have a seat next to her. “How long have you been awake?”
“About an hour.” She closes her laptop and turns toward me.
“You should have gotten me up.”
She shrugs. “You looked like you needed the sleep.”
I’ve been waking up a lot lately through the night, but last night was the first time I’ve slept all the way through.
My house phone starts ringing, and I know exactly who it is since she’s the only one who uses this number.
“Good morning, Mom.”
“Hey, darling. How are you?” Her sweet, Southern accent comes through the line.
“I’m good. What about you?” I do my best to sound normal. I never tell my parents the shit that happens at work. They worry enough as it is without me telling them every detail.
“Oh, you know how it is around here; same thing just different day. The real reason I called was to find out if you had dinner plans for this evening. I haven’t seen you in months.” My mom likes to exaggerate. It’s her way of laying on the guilt trip.
I lean my head back and search for an excuse. “I was planning to, uh—”
“It’s settled then. Dinner will be ready at six.”
“I have company, so I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.” I look over at Lydia as she studies me with an amused expression on her face.
“Who?”
“Lydia,” I state even though I know she has no clue who I’m talking about. It’s not that I’m hiding her, it’s just my mother likes to . . . meddle.
“And who is this Lydia girl?” I hear the mother hen starting to rear its ugly head. I sit down bracing myself for what comes next.
“My girlfriend.” Even though we’ve been together for four months now, I think this is the first time I’ve said that out loud. I kind of like it, and judging by the smile on Lydia’s face as she looks down, I’m guessing she does too.
“Christopher,” she says, using my first name. “You did not inform me you were seeing someone.” Her voice is elevated and I know she’s upset with me.
“That’s because I know how you get.”
She scoffs. “Oh goodness, don’t be silly. You are to bring her with you tonight, and that’s the end of it. I want to meet this girl that seems to be hiding my son from me. It certainly explains why I never see you anymore.” I roll my eyes at her theatrics, but know there’s no way I’m getting out of this.
“Okay, Mother, we’ll see you at six.”
“Perfect! Goodbye, darling.”
A large sigh rushes past my lips as I throw the phone onto the couch cushion. “So,” I start. “Looks like you’re coming to dinner with me at my parents’ house tonight.” I don’t think I could have sounded any less enthused if I tried.
“Really? Awesome!” Her reaction puzzles me, then again, she has no clue what she’s walking into.
“Hold your horses before you get all excited. I mean, you did hear you’re about to meet my family, right?” I’d think this would put most girls into a panic, especially last minute like this.
Her eyebrows draw in. “What? Do you not want me to meet them?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just my mother is very . . . overbearing.”
She stands up off the stool she’s perched on and walks to me in the living room. When she reaches me, she leans down and gives me a kiss. “Parents love me,” she says confidently before walking away and heading toward the bedroom.
“Well, don’t take offense if this one doesn’t,” I say dryly.