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15
Annie
"Cupcake, you've got to go home."
I was nodding out on the chair beside the bed. I'd driven straight through from Vegas to Seattle, which is something it's illegal for truckers to do, so it's a long way. I didn't know how many hours because I'd been pretty much focused on nothing but getting through the next mile and the mile after that. I stopped for coffee. I stopped for fuel. I stopped to pee.
And those were the only times I stopped except when I traded out one rental car for another.
Mark had told me during some phone call or another that yes, my mother did depend on me. So I told him she didn't seem to and he laughed at me, which made me almost hang up but I waited until he stopped and said, "Children rely on their parents. They still get mad about the very things they need advice on."
"You're saying my mother wants me to be a fairy godmother who can wave a magic wand and make everything all right, not tell her the hard stuff in between?" It sounded silly, but I was one of the two people in my family who reacted to problems, setbacks, emergencies and illnesses by looking instantly at what the next step was. Which was great and logical and all, but rubbed everybody the wrong way because they wanted to wail and bitch and worry and grieve or whatever the situation called for.
The other person in my family who did that was my father. Of course.
"No," Mark had said firmly though I could hear the laughter in his voice. "No one wants to see you as a fairy godmother. Trust me on this."
I may have giggled.
"But yes, she wants your logic and she wants to know there are decisions to be made and that things aren't always going to be stuck in a moment of trauma, whatever trauma that currently is. At the same time, the idea of moving on from where things are - That scares her, babe."
I didn't like babe anywhere near as much as love.
"After all, when things change, they could become worse."
That made me drive faster. On the way to Seattle I got three professional courtesy passes from fellow police officers and one stern warning to make certain I didn't take anyone with me when I grayed out and wrecked the rental.
Now I was dozing in a wildly uncomfortable chair beside my father's bed. Mom had finally gone home to sleep, driven by Sarah. Where my other two sisters were I didn't know.
"I like it here," I mumbled, which made my dad laugh.
The next instant he sobered and pushed himself up in bed. That looked like it hurt, but in a kind of sore muscle way. "And what about home? Do you like it there?"
Sometimes I understood why the females in my family didn't like talking to me. It was like talking to dad and he was always direct.
"What did Mark tell you?" I ran a hand over my eyes. If I left now, I'd be running away from the conversation.
"More than what he meant to." He was watching me closely. "He's a good man, Annie. But you don't have to marry him if he's not the right man."
I scrubbed both hands over my face this time. "I'm not sure there is a right man."
"Is there a right woman?"
"Dad!" I looked at him, shocked, waiting for the little smile to flit across his face but it didn't. "It's not that. Sheesh."
He waited.
I waved my hands. "How do I find someone who gets the job? Who gets the space the job takes up in my life? Who gets that I'm not ever going to begrudge that space? How do I find someone who understands that I do this because it's necessary, it's needed, it's important, and I know it's dangerous, but I'm willing to live with that and die for it if I have to? That I love my life and I love being alive but not at the risk of other people's lives?"
I was on my feet, my voice still low because this was a hospital even if this time he was in a private room, not CICU.
"How do I find someone who gets that I'm going to be gone for three, six, nine months, a year? I know I've never been under that long, but people do go under that long."
"They're not usually married," Dad said quietly.
I looked at him, breathing hard, feeling tears at the backs of my eyes. Because I did love Mark. And because I did want someone in my life.
And because I wasn't going to let go of the job, not while I could still go undercover and make a difference and change things. There were teenagers dying. There were children dying. On the whole I didn't give a damn about most drugs. Marijuana a gateway drug? Give me a break. Ecstasy? Teach responsible use and who cares? I thought psychedelics and hallucinogens, when not cut with something deadly, could be mind expanding and fascinating.
