Still miss you. Sorry I couldn’t make lunch today. Case ran long.
Nothing back.
It’s fine. She’s probably still at work or at that support group meeting I keep trying to convince her to go to. I tidy my desk pretending like I’m not checking my phone every ten seconds for a ping. Still nothing.
Barry’s light is on as I pass his office. I lean in. “Night, Sarge.”
He grunts without looking up.
I laugh. “Love you too.”
I don’t add how glad I am to not have his job anymore. Why rub salt in his sore ass from sitting at his desk all day? Detectives rotate cases, share load, tag-team when needed. But the sergeant? Every case, victim, suspect, horror, crosses that desk.
I know the job didn’tmakeme an alcoholic… but it sure as hell didn’t help.
I used to wonder why people chose to retire as detectives instead of climbing ranks. Now? I get it. And I’m pretty damn sure I’ll be one of them.
I drive to my parents’ house and push the front door open. I’ve told them a thousand times to lock it, and a thousand times they’ve reminded me they live in a gated community. We’re at a stalemate.
“Hi Daddy!” Milo yells, legs swinging as he shovels food into his mouth at the dining table.
I kiss his forehead. “Hi, buddy.”
The smell hits me immediately. “Chili. Like this kid doesn’t already stink.”
Mom waves a spatula at me. “Don’t make me start onyoursmelly stories, mister.”
I kiss her cheek. “Hi, Ma. You know I’m your favorite.”
She smirks as she snaps open the lid of a Tupperware container, but her eyes dim. I silently kick myself for stepping into it.
It’s not the time to talk about the disgrace that are her other kids.
Chloe and her dramatic ‘I need space from every Boise on the planet because I chose a career path no one told me to but it just happened to be my mom’s, so now I’m angry at everyone.’ Boo-hoo.
Harvey thinking about chasing Lauren to Seattle without telling her, then getting pissed at Mom for asking him to give her space. Then going anyway and ignoring the rest of us.
Mom isn’t perfect, but she listens. That’s the thing they forgot. You can reason with her. I did, and now she and Lore are… okay. Not like before, but okay. I’ve had to set boundaries, like, serious ones, but they watch the kids for free, make me chili, and love them fiercely.
So, what if they overstep? Honestly, some people would kill for problems this small.
I drop into the seat next to Milo, watching him scrape his bowl clean like he hasn’t been fed in days. Agnes is babbling in her bouncer, kicking her feet, and Dad walks in from the hallway saying, “Sheesh, don’t go in there.”
I make a disgusted face. Milo giggles. Mom smacks Dad’s hand when he reaches foranotherbowl of chili.
They look so happy, so content. And I wonder, was it always like this?
Was our home ever this easy? Were their kids? Did my parents ever wonder if their marriage was too broken?
Dad rolls his sleeves back and starts rinsing dishes. Mom hums as she starts cleaning up.
And all I can think is: Lore didn’t text back.
I’ve checked my phone a million times, pretending I’m checking the time or the weather or my email, knowing damn well I’m waiting for one name to pop up.
It shouldn’t bother me.
We’ve been talking nonstop for weeks, therapy, dates, family outings. She even let me fall asleep in her bed once. Nothing happened. I didn’t touch her. We just talked until the sun cameup like two idiots who forgot we’d already been married seven years.
