Recovery
Chapter 8
Journal of John Nolan
I couldn't believe how nervous I was about my date with Tamar. I wasn't nervous when we were out together before. I guess that's because those were just casual get-togethers, not official dates. The real thing took on more significance. I even took almost half an hour deciding what to wear, and usually, the only time I worry about clothes is to make sure everything on my uniform is regulation.
Still, when I finally picked her up, I was fine. She doesn't mind riding in a truck. That's points in her favor, given that a truck is all I have since I sold off my SUV. I did make sure it was clean. That wasn't easy. I had to get rid of the signs of Jackson's adventures in spackling.
I took her to the restaurant near the beach where I used to go with Lucy and Jackson when I lived in Ben's guest house. It wasn't karaoke night, so it was quiet enough to talk. We did talk – a lot. I think by now we know most of each other's life stories. Since she's so involved with churches, I assumed she grew up going to one. I was wrong. Her mother raised her on her own after her father took off. We had that in common. But her mother chose a more righteous path than mine did. While mine squeezed everything she could out of the men she took up with, Tamar's mother held down three minimum-wage jobs and filled in with anything else she could find. That didn't leave time for church or much of anything else. Tamar pretty much took care of herself and took over running what there was of their household as well. I guess that's how she got to be so organized. Somewhere in there, also like me, she managed to get good enough grades to get a scholarship to college. Unlike me, she got her degree, in administration.
At first, church organizer was just a job. Several churches needed someone to help them work together, and she fit the bill. But she fell in love with the work and the people who did it. At the age of 26, she asked to be baptized. It was entirely her choice, and she took it seriously. She still does.
I know I was baptized. My mother put the certificate in my baby book when she still cared about things like that. But other than a place to go on Christmas and Easter, church has never meant much to me. I don't know that it ever will. As the lowest of the low people on the totem pole, I probably won't have time for the foreseeable future. Fortunately, Tamar isn't pushy about religion, but she is about ethics. I thought mine were solid, but the way things have gone for me as a rookie, I'm no longer sure.
I'm hoping that my class will clarify my view, but I'm already wondering what to do about admitting that I'm a cop. The school already knows. I had to put that along with my academic history on my application. But the other students are another matter. With everything that's been going on, they could see me as another Stanton. We're both white police. How is anyone supposed to know the difference? I'm going to ask Lucy, Harper, and Jackson, but they all know me. So does Tamar, now. I need an objective opinion, and I'm not sure where to get one.
Bradford, Chen. Harper, Nolan, you're doing security today at the hotel where the women crimefighters conference is taking place," Grey announces at roll call.
John raises his hand. "How much security does a convention of cops take? Won't they be carrying their off-duty weapons?"
John's not surprised by Grey's scowl. "Yes, Officer Nolan, the cops will be carrying their off-duty weapons, but they will be off duty. And that conference isn't the only one taking place at the hotel. Its attendees aren't the only targets, either. Religious leaders are arriving from all over the world. Some of them attract zealots, violent zealots. It's going to be your job to keep those leaders safe. And Nolan, the holy men don't carry off-duty weapons."
Nolan stares down at his notes. "Yes, sir, I'm sure they don't."
Guarding the entrance to the ballroom holding a plenary session on religious commonality, Nolan surveys the grounds."
"The K-9 squad came through here 10 minutes ago. The dogs cleared this area," Harper reminds him.
"I know," Nolan acknowledges, "but I spotted someone on the stone bench by the reflecting pool. I'm going to check him out."
If the man staring at the water is hiding a gun, John can't figure out where. The cotton gauze shirt and pants he's wearing can't even conceal his prominent ribs. He hasn't the sick look that John sees too often with malnutrition, but he apparently doesn't eat anything not required purely for nourishment. "Are you all right, Sir?" Nolan asks. "It's much safer inside. Your bench is outside the protection perimeter."
"Safer for what, Officer? Not for being part of the world. When I have questions, I need to commune with all things. I can see that you have questions too. What's troubling your mind?"
"That someone might try to shoot you," John responds.
"In which case, this life will end, and I'll start another. I'm not afraid. I've spent my time trying to solve the question of what is the right thing to do. That should do well for me in my next incarnation. Sit down, look at the water. Be peaceful and tell me what question you're trying to decide."
"I can't sit on duty," John replies.
"Then tell me standing up," the man suggests.
John takes a breath. He has so many questions, but one is at the top of the list. Should he explain the ethical problem of revealing he's a cop to his fellow students? He tries to explain as best he can.
"You see yourself as a guardian. That's important to you. You've chosen to pursue that road as a police officer. Sharing your truth means sharing who you are." his advisor declares. "You shouldn't build your path forward on a falsehood."
"I suppose you're right," John acknowledges. "But I'll be attacked for who I am."
"That's better than being attacked for who you're not. And hiding the truth of your being rarely works. You can't reach out to share your thoughts from behind a wall."
"That makes sense," John decides. "But you haven't told me who you are. Where does your truth come from?"
"From all the incarnations I've had. But the present one, I am told, is as the head of the Von tradition. There are very few of us, but we keep our truth alive."
"You gave me something to think about," John admits. "But right now, my truth wishes that you would go inside, where all the cops can protect you."
"All right," the Von agrees. "I've shared what I was meant to share." John ushers him back into the meeting hall.
Nolan rises in class to read his first assigned paper. "I've come to realize that any discussions I have in here must be based on the truth. You've already discovered that I'm a cop. I've faced difficult decisions as a member of the L.A.P.D., and I may not have always made the right choices. I'm going to tell you about those dilemmas now."
