Arrest (A Disarm Novel) (22 page)

“And make sure the baby is okay,” he added with a seriousness beyond his years. “I want my girl cousin to be healthy. I don’t want her to die like my dad.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat with a mouthful of coffee. “Me too, bud. Me too.”

I convinced Elsie to come back home the next day, with a lot of promises on my part, promises I didn’t know if I could keep but wanted to make regardless. All I knew for certain was that we couldn’t fix our problems while she was a few states away. We were always better together, not apart.

Still, as I sat beside her on that plane as we flew somewhere over Oklahoma, Julie’s words rattled around in my head.

“She needs to eliminate any and all stressors in her life.”

I knew what I had to do, knew that it was absolutely the right thing for Elsie. I just hoped she’d understand that, this time, it was different, that the past was not repeating itself.

I turned to her as she stared out the window. My eyes traced the graceful curve of her jaw down to her chest, which had grown in size over the months, and finally to the swell of her stomach. It made my heart hurt looking at her, knowing what had to be done.

“Els,” I said, taking hold of her hand.

She turned to me, the expression on her face revealing that she already knew what I would say. Maybe she’d been thinking it herself.

“I’ll move out.” I forced the words out of my mouth, even if it was the last thing in the world I wanted.

She nodded.

“But this is not like before. I’m not leaving you. I’m just taking a step back so you can breathe.”

A tear slid down her cheek. God, even when I was trying to do the right thing, I hurt her. “How long?” she asked.

I wiped away the tear with my thumb. This was absolute torture. How was it possible to miss someone this fiercely when she was sitting right beside you? “Until all is well again,” I said.

She tangled her fingers in mine and squeezed hard. “And what if I need you in the middle of the night? What if something goes wrong? What if I can’t do it on my own?”

“I’ll be there, Els,” I promised. “Just call me and I’ll be there.”

“This is just temporary,” she said with a resolute nod. “We’re not separating or divorcing.”

I let out a breath at the mention of divorce. “No, we’re not,” I said and gave our entwined hands a shake. “Just don’t give up on me yet, okay? I can’t do this without you.”

Her eyebrows drew together, but she nodded. Thank God she nodded.

—

When we arrived home in our separate cars, Elsie said she’d go next door and get Law. “To give you some time to pack,” she said.

It all came crashing down on me then, that this was real. I was really moving out for an indefinite amount of time.

I went upstairs and packed my bags, moving quickly so as not to draw out the absolute heartbreak of leaving my home. I knew I was doing the right thing but that didn’t stop the pain that radiated around that one muscle in my chest.

Elsie, for her part, stayed out of the way after she retrieved Law. She went into the home office, saying she needed to catch up on work. Her absence was a little blessing; I didn’t know how I’d stop myself from refusing to leave if she was around.

Law, realizing that something was up, followed me from room to room, whining and making a general nuisance of himself. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and sat down on the carpet in the bedroom, wrapping an arm around his neck. “I’ll miss you too,” I said, scratching his back.

I felt a tickle in the back of my nose as I said good-bye to my first dog, my first house, my first love. “Take care of Elsie, okay?” I told him. “Bark loud if you hear anything weird, and sink those chompers on anyone you think deserves it. I trust your judgment on this.”

Law licked my face in response.

“I’ll try to come by so we can go jogging, but don’t be offended if I want to spend more time with Elsie than you. It’s just . . . I need her to fall in love with me again.”

I gave him one more good belly rub before rising to my feet and collecting my bags. I knocked on the office door before I pushed it open, and found Elsie hunched over the desk, crying silently into her hands.

Though it was hard, I ignored my instinct to comfort her; instead I cleared my throat. “I’m all set.”

She looked up with a wretched expression on her face. “I hate this. I want a do-over.”

“Me too. A marriage mulligan.”

“If only.”

“The time apart will be good for us,” I said, willing it to be true. “But I’m not leaving you, Els. I’ll still be around. I just need to take myself out of the picture to keep you and the baby healthy. I know myself, and I know what’s going to happen. It might get worse before it gets better.”

—

My heart was beating out of my chest as we walked downstairs and into the garage. I busied myself packing bags into the trunk, giving Elsie every chance to ask me to stay.

But she didn’t, like I knew she wouldn’t.

I stood in front of her and lifted her chin with my finger. “I love you, Elsie Logan,” I said, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “So fucking much.”

“Then get better, Henry,” she said, fisting the collar of my shirt. “Come back to me whole.”

I leaned into her, unable to keep away. My hands slid around to her head, cupping her face as I gave her one last kiss. I tilted my head and deepened the connection, wanting to make it last forever, wanting to meld my entire being with hers so that we’d never have to say good-bye.

In some ways, she had always been a part of me ever since the day I met her and teased her about her hair. I’d once tried to run away from that truth, to shed her memory like a snake sheds its skin, but what I’d discovered was that she ran deep in my veins. She was in my cells, embedded in my very DNA. To be without her was to be incomplete.

All too soon I was in my car, backing out of the driveway as Elsie stood in the garage with her arms wrapped around herself. Before I drove away, I took a moment to compose myself, to blink away the sadness and convince myself that this was possible, that I could do this on my own again. And then I left her.

—

I stayed at a Residence Inn, but I refused to unpack. I simply threw my bags in the closet and left it at that. I had to believe I’d only be here for a few days or else I’d fall apart.

After a long shower, I went to work. I didn’t tell anybody about my marriage troubles, even if many people at the station would have been able to sympathize. But I didn’t talk so it wouldn’t be real. Elsie and I wouldn’t become one of those LEO marriage statistics. I wouldn’t let us.

Patrol that night was quiet and uneventful. Never before had I felt so lonely than in that dark car, with only the chatter on the radio to keep me company. The silence was unbearable; I sang songs out loud, recited my favorite poetry (or what I could remember), even pretended to pour my heart out to a phantom Elsie in my passenger seat. I’m sure anybody who saw me thought I had gone off the rails.

Several hours into patrol, I pulled into the nearest strip mall to find some coffee, snickering when I realized I’d inadvertently chosen a doughnut shop.

“Way to live the stereotype,” I said before realizing I was still talking to myself. A few minutes later, I slid back into my car with a cup of coffee and a box of Elsie’s favorite kind of doughnuts.

For the first time that night, I felt some purpose. I stopped at a grocery store then drove home, back to my fixer-upper house in Cherry Creek. I parked out front and saw that everything but the porch light was already dark. I almost drove away but pure selfishness propelled me to the front door and made my finger push that doorbell.

I needed to see her, needed the reassurance of her smile and, perhaps, her kiss.

I heard Law thumping down the stairs. A second later, he barked at the front door. “Good boy, Law,” I said, letting him know I was no intruder.

After realizing Elsie probably wouldn’t answer the door at eleven at night, I called her on my cell.

“Henry, there’s a strange man at the front door holding a box of doughnuts and a grocery bag,” she said with some amusement.

My chest warmed at the sound of her voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the bastard.”

Then the front door opened and Elsie appeared wearing a tank top, shorts, and a smile on her face. The shirt was tight, accentuating her changed figure. If I were a bartender, I would have spent the entire night taking her order just to see her bending over the bar.

“Hey, up here,” she said, pointing to her eyes.

I grinned sheepishly. “Busted.” I held out the box of doughnuts. “I have a special delivery.”

She peered into the box and smiled. “Thank you.”

“But wait, there’s more,” I said, pulling out a jar of pickles and a bottle of olives from the grocery bag. “I figured you could mix them all together.”

She scrunched her nose. “That is disgusting,” she said with a laugh. “And maybe perfect.”

I found myself smiling, feeling a little weight lift off my chest for those few minutes. It had been so long since I’d seen a genuine smile on her face. “Anything for you.”

“Do you want to come in and eat some with me?”

God, I wanted to, but I knew if I took one step in there, I would never want to leave. “Nah, I’m still on the clock.” My eyes flew across her face, so fresh and beautiful even without a trace of makeup. She looked younger somehow, more vulnerable. “I just wanted to see you.”

The corner of her mouth curled up into a wry grin. “Law misses you already.” And on cue, our dog emitted a low whine on the other side of the door.

“Just Law?” I asked.

“No. Not just Law.”

We stared at each other awkwardly for a few minutes. The entire time I wanted to blurt out my every thought in hopes we could sift through the rubble and piece something coherent together. But I didn’t. I couldn’t burden her with everything that was weighing me down. She was carrying enough on her own already.

My radio crackled to life just then, the dispatcher asking for the nearest car to answer a call on Downing and East Colfax. I pressed the button on my shoulder and gave a quick response. “I have to go. Domestic abuse call,” I said to Elsie.

“Do you still wear that Saint Michael medallion I gave you?”

I reached into my collar and pulled it out. “Every day.”

She cupped my cheek with her palm. “Be careful, Henry. I love you.”

I breathed in her words and nodded. “I love you too, Els,” I said and opened the front door for her. “Good night. I’ll wait until you’re done locking up.”

—

I was grateful to be on the swing shift for the next five nights; I was so exhausted I fell asleep as soon as my body hit the mattress. The problem, as always, was staying asleep.

That morning, the fifth day I spent away from home, I lay in bed and stared at the popcorn ceiling of the hotel room while the sunlight tried its best to steal around the blackout curtains. I called Elsie’s phones—both her cell and her work number—hoping that hearing her voice would quiet the noise in my head, but she didn’t answer.

I got out of bed and put on my running gear and a few seconds later I was pounding the pavement. I ran hard, pushing to feel the burn in my lungs and the ache in my legs. But it didn’t seem enough. I needed something more, something to take focus away from my inner turmoil.

I don’t know how it happened but when my feet came to a stop, I found myself standing in front of a boxing gym. Every self-destructive particle in my body wanted to go inside and join, to have a legitimate place to physically work out my issues.

As I stood there, staring at the vinyl letters arching across the glass window, the fog in my mind cleared long enough for me to glimpse a moment of clarity: I was standing at a crossroads. One way took me to instant gratification; the other led me home.

It really wasn’t much of a choice. I turned around and headed back to the hotel, imagining each step taking me farther away from my troubles and closer to reclaiming my old life.

A little while later, I drove back to the house and let myself in, intending only to grab a few white undershirts that I’d forgotten to pack. But once inside, my feet carried me from room to room, torturing myself with memories of what I’d once had and thrown away.

I didn’t know why things affected me so deeply—if I did, I would have fixed it by now. I would have patched the break in my heart that made me bleed hope and reinforced it with steel.

I paused in front of the office and saw the boxes of baby furniture we’d bought but never had the time to put together. Or perhaps we’d simply been too afraid to tempt the fates, lest something happen to the baby once again.

This time, however, I was ready to point my middle finger directly at fate. Putting together that crib would not result in a miscarriage. I wouldn’t let it.

I sat down on the floor and forced myself to focus on each nut and bolt, on every piece that connected to something else, and for one precious hour, my brain was blissfully silent. No whispers of self-loathing or insecurities. All that occupied my thoughts were wood and metal and the soft bundle of flesh that would sleep in it.

After the crib was put together, I cleaned up the mess then moved the desk around. As I slid it across the carpet, Elsie’s computer woke from sleep, displaying the last website she’d visited. I sat down to look closer and found it was a site about a local group for family of PTSD sufferers that met every week. It wasn’t until that one moment that I finally understood how much my issues were affecting her. Apparently it was so bad, she needed to reach out to others about it.

But Elsie wasn’t the person who needed the help; I was. Shame filled me as Elsie’s words echoed in my head:
You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help himself.

Before I could overthink it, I sat down in the computer chair and searched for local support groups, writing down the time and place for a group specializing in traumatic stress in police officers. Then I left the website up and tacked a note on the screen:

I’m trying, Elsie. Don’t give up on me just yet.