If I Should Die (23 page)

Tad leaned back on the sofa jotting in his notepad while I sat on a pillow in the middle of his living room floor.

“Nothing else. She stopped short of naming any names.”

“But it’s interesting that she mentioned your fight with Terry Keenan—”

“She didn’t mention him specifically; just that I’d had a fight with a cop.”

He was quiet for a minute as his pen moved across the pad. “How much money does she have put away?”

“She didn’t say. But she’s ready to use it to buy back that place. I don’t understand why she won’t take that money and open something in another location.”

“It wouldn’t be the same, baby. It wouldn’t have that sweet, deep satisfying feeling of knowing that the girlfriend is out on the street or possibly in jail with Johnnie.”

I shook my head. “I hope I never fall for anyone that hard.”

I glanced up to catch him looking at me and immediately regretted my remark. He jotted a few more lines and closed the pad.

“I want you to call her, offer to meet with her somewhere away from Bertha’s shop.”

“Where?”

He thought for a minute, then: “A public place. You’ll meet on the steps of St. John the Divine. I’ll be with you to offer her a deal.”

“She’s expecting me to bring my attorney.”

“I’ll change professions for the first five minutes. At least until I get some understanding of where we’re headed. And besides, she spoke to you because you’re an officer. Isn’t that what she indicated?”

“Ex-cop,” I answered, wondering where this was leading. “She spoke to me because Bertha thought it might be a good idea. Viv was about to eat a bullet and Bertha told her I might be able to do something about her problem.”

“By taking her story to a ‘real cop,’ isn’t that what she said?”

“Well, yes, but then she mentioned wanting to speak to my attorney. I think that’s what she really wants—”

“Well, she’s gonna get both. I want you to contact her as soon as possible.”

He got up and began to move around me as I sat on the floor. I felt as if I was in the interview room at the precinct and seated at the wrong end of the table.

The silence stretched and finally I said, “I’ll get in touch with her tonight.”

He yawned and made his way to the small kitchen. He seemed tired and impatient, opening and quickly closing
cabinet doors, then opening the fridge to stand in front of it.

“Can I help?”

He shook his head. “No. The problem is, I don’t exactly know what I want.”

He walked to the window and stood with his back to me. Somehow I knew that under other circumstances, an offer of a massage would have gotten him smiling again. He had driven from Maryland, gotten home around 5
A.M.
, and had been on the go ever since. His sour mood was probably due to sleep deprivation.

Then again, maybe he was annoyed by my remark—about never wanting to fall for anyone so hard …

He turned from the window as I got up from the floor and gathered my shoulder bag, satisfied that Alvin had been settled and out of harm’s reach.

“I’ll call you later,” I said.

“No, wait. Wait a minute. I … I want to talk to you.”

I looked at him and moved back toward the sofa, moved with the shakiest sensation in my legs.

“What about?”

He sat near me but leaned away and I was aware of the small space between us.

“I need to talk about a lot of things. While I was driving back, I got to thinking. You have time for that when you’re in a car at night with only a tape deck and the tailwind of a tractor trailer to keep you up. I listened to some Billie and Dinah and Aretha, mostly their slow stuff. Stuff I’d been hooked on for the last two years. And I thought about Ellen … my ex-wife.

“Remember when I said that I’d been put through some serious shit? I didn’t mean to drop that on you and leave you hanging like that.”

“Well, you didn’t leave me hanging, Tad. I figured
if it was something I need to know, you’d tell me at the right time.”

“You’re right. And I guess this is it. You know, my mother once said that when you meet a person, you meet history and mystery. And we get so caught up in the mystery, we don’t bother looking at the history. That person brings to the relationship an entire experience that has nothing to do with you, yet everything to do with you once that history starts to unfold.

“I divorced Ellen—I never told anyone this—I divorced her because of what I found one morning when I came home after a stakeout on Riverside Drive was called off. I’d told her about the stakeout the night before, so she really hadn’t been expecting me. Anyway, I got home, put my key in the door, and found her with someone else.”

He stopped talking and stared straight ahead, as if the scene was again being played out before him. When he looked at me, I saw not only the pain of betrayal but confusion and anger and his struggle to allow himself to let go again—to free-fall once more into something unknown and possibly dangerous.

“Trust is a great thing, Mali. You can relax and enjoy and say a lot of things when you trust someone enough.”

“That’s true,” I murmured, wondering where this was leading. I remembered he had certainly said a lot of things that night in the bathtub and it wasn’t the champagne talking.

He remained quiet for a minute, then: “Listen. Were you and—were you involved with Erskin?”

I stared at him, so surprised I could not speak. Then I reached for his hands and held them against me. “I was never involved with him. I knew he was fond of me, cared for me, but I didn’t find that out until after he’d died. I never knew until after.”

“Is that why you’re so intent on finding out why he died?”

I let go of his hands then, wanting to laugh. “I can’t believe you’re asking me this, as if you’re jealous of a dead man.”

“Maybe I am.”

I wanted to tell him how ridiculous he sounded, how much he needed to grow up, get a handle on his life, and move on. Hopefully with me. But I didn’t say that. If we were going to get anywhere, we needed to talk about a lot more than I realized.

“You found Ellen with someone. Now you trust no one, is that it? Not even the memory of a dead man.” I tried to speak softly, to remain calm. “When you found her, what happened, what did you do? What did she say?”

He moved his shoulders in a slight, tired way. “There was nothing to do. Or say. The woman Ellen was with was wearing nothing except a smile and a Marlboro between her teeth. Neither one seemed the least bit fazed that I’d walked in and interrupted them. Neither one seemed frightened. If anything, there was such a casual intimacy, I knew without thinking about it that whatever was happening had probably been going on for a long time.

“I told Ellen to pack and be out before the sun set. Then don’t ask me how I did it, but I backed out of there and found myself outside walking along the highway.” He waved toward the window. “I walked and walked and wondered why I hadn’t pulled my weapon and killed them both. I sat down near one of those old rotting piers and listened to the rats below and I watched the boats on the water and I thought about killing myself. To this day, I don’t know why I didn’t do it.”

He leaned back on a pillow now and closed his eyes. “I read somewhere that life is nothing but a preoccupation
with death, that most of us run around trying to do the thing or find the thing that’ll hold it at bay for just a second longer. I didn’t know that then. I walked and walked and walked until I found myself down somewhere near Wall Street, surprised that I was still alive.

“So I turned around and started back, not sure I was going to make it, but praying every step of the way because those steps were bringing me back to what I thought would be the end of my life.”

I gazed at his drawn face, hair at the temples gone gray, and a mouth that never laughed. He had beautiful teeth and I think I touched them with my tongue more than I actually saw them. I wondered if he had ever smiled before he found out about Ellen. A lesbian. Why had she married him in the first place? For convenience? For cover? No one does that anymore. Either they’re in or they’re out.

Maybe she wanted it both ways and neglected to tell him. Maybe she had meant to and just hadn’t gotten around to it. That little bitch. It was hard to listen and not feel what he was feeling.

“I’ll tell you, Mali, it was a while before I was able to think about it without feeling that my chest or stomach was being cut open. Once that feeling left, I got scared all over again because I was sure nothing could replace it.

“Maybe that’s why you see so many hard-drinking guys on the job. Guys doing drugs. Guys throwing their weight around, needing to be in control. Not to say that what happened to me has happened to them, but a lot of them’ve got nine-to-five stress on top of dusk-to-dawn shit. And don’t mention the brothers who’ve got to watch their back for the shit within the department, twenty-four seven. I’m talkin’ super stuff now.

“So everybody’s got problems and some guys head straight for the bar or the bottle as soon as they close their lockers. I was doing it too, until I coughed up that blood.
Ulcers are no joke. It was like having an alligator in your stomach and you’re running around looking for something to wire its jaws shut.

“I came to my senses physically but the other stuff, the mental thing, took a hell of a lot longer. When you invest in a thing one hundred percent—anything—job, marriage, friendship, it’s hard to swallow betrayal. It’s damn hard.”

“But you survived it, Tad. You survived it.”

“Barely.”

“Do you think I’d betray you?”

“No, I—”

“I love you, Tad. Do you believe me?”

“Yes. Yes, I believe you.”

We were quiet for a moment before he continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I believe you because I remember your expression when I first saw you three years ago. I had just walked in with that fugitive and was preparing the papers to take him downtown. You were looking at me. You didn’t smile. Or blink. Or act surprised. Everyone else was milling around, staring at the guy, at how dirty he was, and the fact that his knees were busted. He was screaming about his rights and there was a lot of talking and yelling going on but you were just standing there. Looking. Like no one else was even in the room. And I guess I knew then that the thing that was bothering me could ease up. Not right away but soon enough.

“Your eyes were like a kind of current traveling through water, and when it reached me, it was a direct hit; made me straighten up whether I wanted to or not. But when we finally got to talking, saying more than hello, I wanted to back away. Even when they were putting you through all that shit, I kept wishing you were another man so I could reach out to you brother-to-brother,
not man-to-woman, because I was afraid to go beyond and have to swallow that taste of betrayal again …” He shrugged his shoulders and lay back with his eyes closed. “So. There it is …”

I wanted to ask more questions but didn’t know where to begin. I had glimpsed a picture of Ellen one day, a small unframed photo lying faceup on his desk. The photo disappeared and the next thing I’d heard, he was getting a divorce.

“A lot happens in our lives, Tad. Devastating things. With very few remedies to see us through. Love is one of them. I don’t know if I upset you when I said I hoped I’d never fall for anyone so hard. I didn’t know what you had gone through. But let me tell you now. I waited a long time for you to come into my life. You’re here. You’re part of me. We’re part of each other. Tomorrow it will be you and me. Next week and the year after.”

I moved over and lay my head on his chest. His heartbeat was loud and fast.

“Tad, I love you. I want to love you now. Right now. Here. On the floor … where I can feel your hands under me …”

At midnight, I left him sleeping. I needed to go and lie in my own bed and think about his ex-wife and how she nearly caused me to lose a good man.

On my way home, as tired as I felt, I looked for a phone. I needed to catch up with Deborah, who was leaving for Washington in a matter of days. We owed ourselves one last night on the town, or at least a good dinner and some small talk. Yesterday, when I had called, she had been so furious she could barely speak.

I dialed her number now and she picked up on the first ring. “Yes?”

“Girlfriend? You calmed down some?”

“Oh. Mali. I suppose so.” Her laughter was short and dry. “You know, when I got home I found that my sister had packed all of my things, was about to have my furniture crated, and had notified management that my apartment would be available. My apartment! You know how hard it is to get a decent place in this city. I had to run to them and get the order rescinded and then arrange for one of my coworkers to sublet while I’m gone.”

“Sublet? Deborah! Did you say sublet?”

“Why not? I’ll only be gone a year. After all the stuff I’ve been through, I do need some R and R. I mean, the Big Apple bit me but I’m gonna grow my teeth long and bite it back. I’m coming back, girlfriend.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Deborah. I really am … Good friends are hard to come by.”

“Amen.”

“What’s Martha saying?”

“I could care less about what she’s saying or how she’s feeling. I suppose she means well, but she’s too damn controlling, tried to run my life from day one. I don’t need to be around her any longer than I have to, but it’ll be nice to see my dad. Spend time with him and Mom for a while.”

“What about your job?”

“They’ve given me a leave.” There was a slight pause before she continued. “Listen, I know you planned to come by tomorrow but could we make it for the day after? I still have some things to do—”

“Of course, Deborah. You know me, always flexible.” I laughed now, relieved that she wasn’t leaving the city permanently.

I hung up and dialed another number and Viv came on the line, sounding as if she’d just woken up. Or perhaps she had been crying. It was hard to tell.

“Viv? Is tomorrow okay for what we talked about?”

“Yeah. Let’s see. I got somebody comin’ in at eleven. A weave. Gonna take couple hours dependin’ on what all she Want. So best time is ten. Ten sharp, okay?”