Chapter Six
He sighed and settled back against the tree. "Get comfortable, this may take a while," he warned. "I really don't know how to start this, because it's not a happy story. There's no happily ever after up to this point in my life, Jordan. My mother died when I was four. She had leukemia. I don't remember a time when she wasn't sick. She was a good mother, but was ill most of the time. From what I understand, she was diagnosed when she was pregnant with Cal – she had him about 18 months after she had me. I remember her being so sick...I remember her not having hair. She would hold Cal and I in her bed and read to us, or let us nap with her – up until the very end when there were too many tubes and needles to allow us to do that.
"I remember the day she died. I remember her mother was there, and her sisters. So was the priest. It was quiet...more quiet than I remember home being. I can't remember any other place being so still. Dad was in there with her. Then he called Cal and me in to say goodbye. Dad told us to hug and kiss her...we wouldn't be seeing her for a while. I didn't want to. I thought if I didn't hug or kiss her, she wouldn't go away. She'd have to stay. But she was crying, so I did. She told me to be brave, to watch Cal for her, and she would see me again someday. Then Grandma took us out. That was it. That's the last thing I really remember about my mom being alive. I remember the wake and the funeral mass. But that's all.
"My dad, like your dad, was a cop. He worked long hours. While he worked, we stayed with his mom. She made sure Cal and I were fed, washed, did our homework...whatever. But she wasn't Mom. And after raising seven kids, I think she was a little tired of being a mom. It's not that she didn't love us, I'm sure she did in her own way, but I think she really wanted Dad to find someone else and remarry...relieve her of the burden of raising two very active, young boys. But he didn't. So my childhood wasn't the best. I never felt I was really loved or wanted. When Cal and I got older, we stayed by ourselves and I looked after Cal the best way I knew how. I had to grow up super fast and become super responsible all by the age of seven. If things didn't get done, or go just right, Dad would come apart...and take us with him. He'd beat Cal and I if things weren't just perfect. He thought he was instilling a sense of discipline, but all I got out of it was a sense of fear. That's why I stuttered so badly. The fear manifested itself in a speech impediment. To top it off, I was chubby and wore glasses. So I was the picture of the class misfit...the geek...the playground target for the bully. Finally, when I was about fourteen, I figured that the one way I could make my dad proud, and get him off my back, was to tell him I wanted to become a cop, too. So I did. I told him.
"He was so proud. He'd take me down to the station. The other sheriffs took an interest in me. I had just told Dad that to make him feel something toward me other than anger, but to my surprise, I liked the work. I enjoyed talking with the sheriffs. I had a good time hanging out at the station. For the first time since Mom died, Dad and I had something in common. Something to talk about. Something not to fight over. Then, when I was sixteen, it all came to an end. Dad was shot in the back by some eighteen year-old punk. He spent ten agonizing days in the hospital. In the end, he died in my arms.
"The judge said that because my grandparents lived so close by and could supervise me, I could continue to look after Cal and live in the house. So my junior and senior years of high school, I worked and went to school and tried to keep Cal straight. After I graduated, I continued to work until Cal was through with school. I continued to date Annie. When Cal graduated, I went back to school at night, to become a policeman. When I finished the course, Annie's dad hired me as a sheriff. My life was finally looking up. I had a degree, I had the girl, I had the job I wanted.
"I loved her, Jordan. With my whole heart. I wanted to ask her to marry me, settle down, have a house with a backyard and a swing set and five kids to fill it up. But Kewaunne is a small, old-fashioned kind of place. I had to ask Annie's dad for her hand before I asked her to marry me. That's when he told me his daughter was too good to marry a cop. What he really meant, was she was too good to marry me, because she ended up marrying my best friend, who was a sheriff. See, I was an orphan, poor as a church mouse, with no real future in that town – I just didn't have enough to offer his daughter.
"So, as you know, I packed up and ran to Boston. Bought a good suit, got a decent hair cut, and got rid of the stutter. Got a job with the Boston PD. I was determined to put my past so far behind me that no one, no one, every got an inkling that anything was ever wrong. I thought if I pretended it had been great, everyone else would assume it was, too. So I just determined not to talk about it at all...if someone asked, only give very vague answers.
"That is, until I met you. You were as complicated as I was, and your past was just as convoluted. Only, you wore it on your sleeve and as a chip on your shoulder. I knew I understood you better than anybody else. I can tell your mood just by the way you walk. I know, because our backgrounds are cut from almost the same cloth. That's why I've waited so long on you, Jo. I know that putting the past behind you takes time. I had gotten to the point where I didn't want anyone to know about me....and what happened, until the burglar broke into your apartment. I saw how it was affecting you. I saw how it was wearing you down...you felt no one understood how if was to be that open and that vulnerable. I did. And I had to let you know. You didn't need to suffer alone."