October 17, 1990

She did it.

She left him.

She hasn't said anything about it, but I know the signs.

I've been there.

Her car is full of take-out wrappers and bags and she's worn the same socks and pants for the last three days.

Which means she hasn't been home in at least three days.

I guess she finally figured out the score.

Or she got sick of pretending she didn't know the score all along.

October 31, 1990

God, I hate Halloween.

There's always some group of punks going around smashing pumpkins or egging houses. Then an uptight housewife calls it in and I have to waste the rest of my night filling out vandalism reports and pretending I give a crap about their stupid Jack-O-lanterns.

It happens the same way every damn year.

I never even bothered taking Shawn Trick-or-Treating when he was a kid. I knew I'd get to one house and have to leave to go hunt down pumpkin smashers.

Mel always took him.

November 14, 1990

Karen's left him and gone back at least a dozen times over the last month.

Even though she never says anything, I always know the days when she didn't go home.

I just look at her socks.

Most days, I don't even have to check her socks. It's all in her face.

The only days she smiles are the days she's been home.

November 26, 1990

I picked up Bill Vick.

It took three hours of tailing, but I finally nailed him going 60 in a 55 zone.

And maybe I thought his tags were expired.

And maybe I had reason to suspect there were drugs in the car, which may have given me probable cause to drag him down to the station and let him sit in interrogation, alone, for two hours.

And maybe when I finally went in to talk to him, he somehow got the impression that I could make his life hell if he kept going around pissing off cops.

Cops like his wife.

And maybe he finally got the idea that he shouldn't do that anymore.

December 3, 1990

Shawn came over for the weekend.

He didn't shut up the whole time.

The whole damn time.

God, I wish that kid would just shut up for five minutes.

And I wish he'd take care of his stuff.

He forgot his pillow and some clothes over here when he went back to Mel's.

And his toothbrush.

Who the hell forgets their toothbrush?

He just shrugged when I pointed it out to him.

"I have two," he said.

December 15

Karen hasn't stayed late at the station in weeks.

It's just me again.

At least I get more work done.

And at least I don't have to check her socks.

December 25

I've gotten some crappy gifts from Shawn before.

The ties.

The Play-doh.

But another journal?
What the hell do I need with that?

"Your old one is full, Dad," he told me.

So, of course, I had to tell him that it certainly is not full.

I barely write in the stupid thing.

I still have two whole pages left.