Authors: Sandra Kitt
“Shit!” Joe shouted again, and kicked a wastepaper basket so hard it sailed across the room and crashed into the opposite wall. The door to the office opened quickly, and several men appeared in the doorway, ready for trouble.
“Get the fuck outta my office!” Joe stormed, pointing a finger at the officers, who stood staring in open curiosity. “Out!”
The door slowly closed again. Tense silence remained in the room with the two men. Except for the annoying repetitive patter of the rain outside.
Jason slowly sat back in his chair. He braced his elbows on the desk and rested his head in his hands.
“You don’t really care about her, Jason. She’s just another lay to you. You know that’s all it is. That’s all it could ever be.”
“Leah is different. I’ve
never
treated her like other women. You don’t know what we’re like together. It—it’s a whole lot more,” Jason murmured, but he sounded confused.
“Is it?” Joe asked.
“Why can’t it be? Who are you or anyone else to say it can’t be?”
“It ain’t me, man. It’s the world. It’s life. That’s just the way it is.”
“Drop it, Joe. Just let it go. I don’t want to fight with you,” Jason said wearily.
Joe looked at Jason sadly, and he too sat heavily in his chair once again. “It ain’t gonna go away. I don’t want to fight you either, man. But one of these days you’re going to find yourself in deep shit.”
Jason didn’t want to admit that maybe Joe was right. And he didn’t particularly like any of the feelings of unease he’d been living with recently. He didn’t know how to sort it out. He found himself suddenly cautious around people, as if expecting comments or criticism. He was constantly on edge and defensive.
Spano’s comments were proving irritating and persistent. And it was more than Spano. It was the two weeks of having had only brief, uneasy phone conversations with Leah. It was Jason doing something that profoundly disturbed him. He’d been involved in an arrest, called in as part of a backup team on a night when cops seemed to be needed everywhere.
Jason remembered he had one suspect down on the ground handcuffed, and another leaning on the trunk of the squad car in the position. There were a half-dozen cops and cars all over the street. Curious bystanders watched as if this was a show staged for their benefit. No fear here, just resignation and familiarity. This scene was commonplace in Bed Stuy.
Jason had another pair of handcuffs ready and used his foot to knock the suspect’s legs farther apart.
“Okay, nigger, spread ’em. I want to know what you got up there besides your balls …”
A sudden rush had gone over Jason, and he’d stood stone still. He felt as if he’d just crashed head-on into a wall.
That
wall. The one Joe had told him about months ago. The words echoed in his head. He’d felt the instant hostility they’d evoked, the insult to identity and pride. Jason had turned around to look at all the dark faces staring at him. Everyone was still and angry. But they weren’t surprised. They were used to this, too.
But it wasn’t what the onlookers might have been thinking that bothered Jason. It was how easily the word had slipped through his lips—the careless racial slur taken for granted. It had come out without a second thought, and it bothered him. Jason thought instantly of Leah.
Is that how he thought of her?
God, no … no!
He’d tossed his extra cuffs to another officer. “Here, you do it,” he muttered angrily. He’d walked a few feet away. His hands were shaking.
What had he been thinking?
Jason remembered that awful scene with Peggy, her virulent disgust and objections because of Leah.
What had he been thinking …?
“Shit,” Jason mumbled in irritation.
He turned his back on the fight, on Joe’s warning, and picked up the phone. He dialed a number and waited impatiently until a female voice answered.
“Hi. It’s Jason.”
“Who?”
“Jason.”
“Who?”
“It’s Ja—okay, okay. How’ve you been, Carol?”
“As if you cared. Do you mean today or the last six months.”
“I know,” Jason said contritely. “But it’s been a real busy time.”
He tapped nervously on the desktop, and when he looked at Joe, it was to find the other man listening openly and without any apparent surprise.
“Look, I thought maybe I could take you to dinner tonight. You can tell me all about the last six months. Are you free?”
“Would it matter if I wasn’t?”
“That’s up to you.”
“You don’t give much advance warning, do you?”
Jason ran his hand through his hair. He laughed nervously. “I’m sorry. I told you, it’s been real busy. Well? How about it? It won’t be a late night. Promise.”
“Already I don’t like the sound of this. But curiosity has the better of me. What time?”
“I’ll see you at seven.”
Jason hung up the phone. Joe just sat staring at him.
It was six-thirty before he could clock out, and it had been a day full of irritations. The long day followed Jason right into the locker room, where there were other officers in various stages of undress. Some were coming on duty, most were going off. Jason was too deep into the earlier confrontation with Joe and his own problems to notice the sudden lack of conversation with his appearance. He approached his locker, walking between Spano and another officer. While he worked the combination on the lock, Jason heard someone say, “Nigger lover.”
Jason didn’t recognize the voice. It was followed by silence, but he didn’t turn around or acknowledge the comment.
Someone else made the sound of a monkey, and this was followed by snickers from several of the men.
“Come on. Knock it off,” someone advised.
Jason slowly pulled the locker door open, but then he abruptly slammed it shut. The sound was loud and grabbed everyone’s attention. He turned around to face the room, and a few men turned away from him. Spano sat down on the bench and bent to untie his shoes.
“Any of you assholes have something you want to say to me?” Jason inquired quietly.
“Yeah,” Spano began boldly, “how’s the spook? Had any lately?” He grabbed his crotch in a rude gesture.
Several men moved away from both Jason and Spano. Some laughed softly, but none wanted to actually get in the middle. Without warning Jason stuck his foot under the end of the bench and pulled. Spano went down heavily onto the floor when the bench toppled over. All laughter died.
Spano tried to get up, but Jason quickly applied a foot right to his throat.
“You mother fucker …” Spano choked, wrestling with Jason’s foot.
“How about you, Spano? What was that you wanted to say?”
“Come on. Ease up, Jason. It was just a joke, man,” someone said.
“Get the fuck off me, Horn. She’s nothing but a—”
“Do you, asshole?” Jason gritted angrily through clenched teeth, pressing harder with his foot. He felt an uncomfortable rage building. He wanted to grab Spano by the throat. He wanted to hurt him. He wanted to hurt someone.
An officer moved toward Spano, as if to come to his assistance, but Jason merely raised a warning hand and pointed a finger at him.
“Stay out of this.” He turned his attention back to the man on the floor. “I’m waiting,” Jason shouted angrily. His foot pressed harder.
“No …” Spano sputtered. “I … agh…”
“What was that? I can’t hear you.”
“I said no, goddamn it. I ain’t got nothin’ to say.”
Jason slowly lifted his foot and felt his calf muscle contract instantly into a cramp. Every fiber of his body was stiff. The adrenaline in his system made him hot and dizzy. He glanced down at Spano and then at the men around the silenced locker room. He tried to catch his breath.
This had been a mistake.
These were men he had to rely on. They might someday have to save his life, or he theirs. It was supposed to be a brotherhood, but he’d been kicked out of the fraternity.
Very slowly conversation picked up again. Spano struggled to his feet, and two colleagues restrained him from going after Jason.
Jason didn’t care. He got what he needed from his locker. He was tired and depressed and totally pissed off. He wished, too late, that he’d never tried to keep the date for that night two weeks ago, or that he’d never let Peggy get to him. Jason wished that he and Joe had never had a fight.
As Jason exited the locker room, he wasn’t at all sure what he had left.
He got no satisfaction from the evening, either. It only added to his general bad mood. He wondered why he felt as though his life was falling apart all around him.
Carol was a counselor for a school in the same district as Jason’s precinct. She was tall, curvaceous with frosted, short blond hair. And although not technically pretty, she was sexy and attractive and had a quick, dry wit. For a moment as he waited for Carol to get into his car, he had a painful flashing image of Peggy and the last time he’d seen her. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake tonight. One good thing about Carol was that she never asked a lot of questions.
“For chrissakes, Jason, this car is filthy. When are you going to clean it or buy a new one?” she complained, dusting off her hands once she was seated in the car.
“Pretend you don’t see it. With the windows open, it will all blow away anyhow.”
“Very funny. You could plant potatoes in your backseat. I bet you don’t even know what’s back there.”
“You’re probably right.” He quickly glanced at her in appreciation. “But you don’t want to talk about my car. How’ve you been?”
“A girl could starve to death waiting for a date for dinner.”
“You know my number,” Jason teased.
“As if you’re ever at home. Are you still coaching games on Riker’s Island and playing Daddy to all those street urchins?”
“You mean the ones you can’t keep in school?” he quipped.
Carol laughed good-naturedly, and Jason began to relax.
“Jason?” she began quietly.
“Uhmm?”
“I—I heard about your son, and the accident. I just wanted to say I’m real sorry. I know it’s a tremendous loss.”
Jason’s hands tightened on the wheel of the car. He didn’t want to discuss Michael with Carol. He’d gone a long time without slipping back to those memories. He didn’t need or want them tonight.
“Thanks,” he said shortly, and Carol wisely let it drop.
Jason drove into Manhattan to one of his favorite restaurants. It was a Vietnamese place with no atmosphere but great food and service. It was run by a large, cheerful family who’d long ago come to expect Jason as a pretty regular customer. The menu they were given was in Vietnamese. This was the only time he got practice in the language, and he furrowed his brow in concentration trying to remember the right words and sounds.
Carol and Jason spent dinner in easy conversation, just catching up on months of absence from each other. Unlike Peg, Carol wasn’t interested in whom Jason might have dated in the interim. She picked over her food, grimacing at the unfamiliar vegetables and spices, and complained that pork and abalone were fattening. She chuckled and wondered out loud why he hadn’t taken her to a French restaurant, where at least the unpronounceable names were romantic. Jason responded that this week’s budget didn’t run to French food. Besides which he didn’t want to have to wear a tie.
He finished eating and sat back in his chair, smoking a cigarette. He watched Carol as she continued to pick, and at some point was only half listening to her flow of idle conversation. Jason suddenly found himself comparing Carol to Leah. He was remembering dinner here with Leah several weeks ago.
She had been impressed at what had seemed to her Jason’s easy command of a difficult tongue. She’d asked him to name everything on her plate, and he’d done his best, cheating a bit when he couldn’t. She’d asked him how to say wonderful, and all through dinner Leah had repeated it to herself, trying not to forget. And when the meal was over and the waiter brought the check, Leah had turned to the waiter and uttered the hard-learned phrase, causing the waiter to giggle and beam in appreciation of her effort.
The thought stayed with Jason as he and Carol left the restaurant, walked around lower Manhattan for a while, and then drove to her place.
Much, much later, while Carol showered and coffee perked in the kitchen, Jason sat in her bed smoking, lying back against the rumpled mess of the bed linens. They hadn’t made love.
He couldn’t do it.
He’d wanted to touch and feel a woman’s skin. He’d wanted the soft giving of her body to cushion his confusion and wrap him in solace. He’d wanted to slip slowly into desire and excitement and fulfillment. But he and Carol had never gotten beyond foreplay. He’d never even gotten properly hard. So they’d just lain in bed for an hour talking, but not talking about
that.
Finally, realizing that nothing was going to happen, Carol had kissed him lightly and gotten out of bed. Jason had hardly noticed.
He found himself thinking of Leah. He wondered what she was doing tonight. Once he’d begun seeing her regularly, he’d been pretty certain that Leah was seeing only him. The possibility that she might have had a date, or been with someone else in the past few weeks, had not fully occurred to Jason until this instant. The very idea made him nervous and restless with jealousy.
In one graceful motion, with the cigarette clamped between his teeth, Jason got up and began to dress. He managed to sit still for two cups of coffee with Carol before maneuvering his way toward the door. He’d forgotten that one of the things he’d always liked about Carol was her ability to see things clearly, dispassionately, and without fluff. She used her insight now as he was about to leave.
“You know, Jason, you were never one for pretending. You yourself always said you’re too old for that.”
“So?” he prompted.
“So stop pretending that you’re fine and we’re fine and everything’s fine.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do. Want to talk about it?”
Jason grinned and leaned against the wall. “You know, suddenly an awful lot of people are interested in what’s on my mind.”
“Maybe they’re trying to tell you something. Anyway, I’m only interested in tonight,” Carol corrected.