[ Part Three ]
Battling alcoholism meant facing your fears and admitting to ugly truths on a daily basis and although it was painful and – at times – humiliating, Andy was honest with himself. He no longer tried to repress negative thoughts but carefully examined them instead, no matter how much they made his stomach churn. Joel was more helpful than Andy would have ever imagined the scruffy guy capable of being. Pushing forty, the other man wore faded hoodies and jeans with trainers that Andy wouldn't have even worn to the gym and smoked like a chimney; his messy light-brown hair and the ever-present stubble on his chin added to the impression of deliberate neglect. Still, his comments - though usually riddled with expletives - were surprisingly insightful and Andy took great comfort in the fact that he wasn't being patronized. Joel simply spoke his mind in his own, blunt way and that made it easier for Andy to weigh his arguments instead of dismissing them right away whenever they held unpleasant implications.
There was one thing in his life that he didn't try – or dare – dissect and that was his relationship with Sharon Raydor. After the ugly scene at the cafeteria, they had taken up meeting at the deli for lunch almost every day. In the beginning they had always arranged to meet again the next day, but after a few weeks it had become a fixed date that didn't need to be specifically agreed upon anymore. Instead they would call each other if one of them couldn't make it on a work-related matter. Andy noticed, to his own dislike, that whenever she canceled, he found himself in a gloom and he always went out of his way to prevent cancellations on his own behalf. He didn't want to think about whether he had feelings for her that went beyond the boundaries of friendship, but there was something to be said about the way he tried not to look at her too closely until she was seated across from him, her belly disguised by the table. Sometimes he forced himself to take in her whole body when she entered the deli and he was already waiting and it gave him a definite feeling of unhappiness. Today was such a day and he found that he'd avoided looking at her for so long that he had missed the fact that her baby had grown considerably over the previous weeks. No longer would anyone not notice the fact that she was pregnant and it filled him with a curious sense of disappointment that tasted almost like jealousy. However, it also made him realize in wonder that they'd been meeting up for lunch for three whole weeks now and he reveled in her easy smile when she sat down across from him with her usual salad and sparkling water.
"We'll have to find another place to eat as soon as I don't fit into these booths anymore," she joked uneasily as she tried to find a comfortable position on the bench.
"Or we could sue them for discrimination against pregnant women because they make them too small," he shot back, digging into his sandwich.
"I forgot how awfully clumsy that big belly makes me feel," she said gloomily, obviously in a pensive mood. "I used to be a ballet dancer in college, you know. Now I feel like a dancing hippo at best."
The little piece of information had just slipped out and reminded him that their daily lunches had brought about nothing but easy, comfortable conversation so far and he wasn't actually much closer to finding out about her background. Maybe it was the fact that she was addressing the subject of her pregnancy today, which didn't happen too often, or maybe it just irked him but he suddenly felt impatient to learn more about her. So Andy lunged at her statement like a dog would at a particularly tasty slab of meat.
"Really? Were you good?"
It occurred to him that he had no idea whether she was the type of woman who would downplay her own achievements or whether she'd gloat and it fed his growing mood. His anger dissolved immediately when she shrugged in a perfectly unpretentious way.
"Good enough for my college's production of Swan Lake but it wasn't exactly the Bolshoi Theater of Russia. And by that I mean I was a pretty good amateur but nowhere near being talented enough to become a professional."
"What else did you do in college?" he asked and added a dumb joke for good measure: "Hot lesbian experiences that you would like to tell me all about?"
Another one of Sharon's more obvious character traits was that she ignored comments that she found misplaced or rude but one could never be sure whether she would get back to them later or not. She didn't even flinch at his immature innuendo.
"I majored in Criminal Studies, predictably, and then signed up for the LAPD. My parents were furious."
Now that was interesting.
"Why?" he simply asked, holding back on any sarcastic remarks in fear of having to endure one of her condescending silences. Sharon put a piece of tomato into her mouth and looked at him over the table. Her expression looked deliberately neutral which was a sure sign that some emotion was connected to what she was about to say.
"My parents are... old-fashioned," she said carefully. "I grew up in New York City with ballet lessons, debutant balls and vacations in the Hamptons. The last thing they wanted me to do was become a police officer, especially in a town like Los Angeles."
Andy was stunned but not overly surprised. The way she conducted herself, the unwavering self-confidence and the hints of wealth that were scattered among her house definitely pointed towards a very privileged upbringing.
"Did they disown you or something when you joined the academy?" he asked, really curious now but she shook her head with a sad smile.
"My parents aren't like that. They don't openly oppose things. They just... disagree in a silent, yet very obvious way. And they thought I married well, so I didn't disappoint completely."
She took a sip of water and raised her brows when he looked at her expectantly.
"Why did you want to become a police officer?"
"I wanted the world to be a better place, I guess," she said. "And I've always enjoyed firing guns." She raised one corner of her mouth in a dark half-smile that made his fingertips tingle.
"And yet you ended up in FID."
"And it's impossible to better the world when you're busy investigating your fellow officers, you mean?" Her tone had become snide and she continued before he could say anything else: "It's actually important to make sure that cops follow the rules. Police violence is dangerous and people have greater faith in the force if there is someone to make sure professional standards are being upheld." Her gaze softened somewhat. "And I've always wanted children which is a lot easier when you're in FID. More reasonable hours and less hazardous situations." She gave a humorless laugh. "Unless your fellow officers decide that you have to be punished for doing your job."
The topic of Samson hadn't come up between them again but Andy knew that he had been suspended, his disciplinary case pending and being handled by Sharon's captain. He watched her eat for a moment and noticed the small signs that gave away the fact that she was slowly trying to regain what little of her composure had slipped during her previous revelations.
"I'd like to go back to active duty once my children are grown," she said somewhat dreamily. "but it's notoriously difficult to make the transition. Someone would have to be very confident in my abilities as an investigator and I don't really see that happening."
"So you're okay with having another child?" Andy asked, having finished his sandwich and sipping his coke, trying to get his attention away from the nagging thought that it would taste better with a splash of whiskey in it.
"Yes, of course. It wasn't exactly planned, but she is definitely wanted."
"A girl then!" Andy said, not sure what to make of it. "Too bad. You could have named a boy after me."
"Why would I do that?" Her twitching eyebrow was the only thing that gave away the fact that she was teasing him.
"I don't know. Because I'm your favorite lunch partner?"
She smiled, nodding and placing her cutlery aside. "Fair enough."
He knew that this was the perfect opportunity to find out about her husband but, it seemed, so did she and she quickly changed the topic to talk about a popular rumor that a notorious Detective named Provenza had somehow managed to get himself in trouble again. He grinned when she mentioned that she'd recently slapped him with a report because of his misogyny, but his mind was elsewhere, in a place that he didn't want to consciously go to.
Andy hadn't been to Sharon's since their dinner and he was once again surprised how inviting the little house felt even from the outside. Clutching the shopping bag, he took the two steps and waited on the porch for her to open the door. She'd called this morning to cancel their lunch, telling him that Tommy was sick so she had to stay home. Sensing an opportunity to spend an evening with her, he had committed to the selfless act of bringing her groceries and more medicine. Evenings were the hardest. Upon closer scrutiny of his habits and relationships, Andy had had to admit to himself that most of his current friendships were firmly based on spending nights in bars and drinking. Joel had promised him that there would be a time when he'd be able to enter bars again and spend time with his buddies there without being in immediate danger of relapsing, but for now it was completely out of the question. He was still sensitive when it came to the subject of his alcoholism, so he refused to ask his friends to meet him somewhere else without drinking which led to his spending most of his nights alone in front of the television. Being alone with his thoughts drove him crazy sometimes and it took great restraint not to try and comfort himself with the bottle. Sharon's home seemed like a save haven compared to anywhere else and he felt instant calm settling over him when he stepped over the threshold.
Sharon looked the sort of tired that he immediately associated with the caring for a sick small child. There was weariness and exhaustion paired with concern because when you hadn't been a parent for a long time, every tiny illness seemed like a looming danger. He remembered when his son had caught a cold at three and he'd rushed him to the ER only to be sent home with a pitying smile and a box of tissues.
Without thinking about it, he pulled her in for half a hug with his free arm and kissed the air next to her temple. She smelled of sleep and oranges and he had the sudden urge to wrap himself around her and never let go. At the same time, he had no idea whether he was yearning for that in order to comfort her or to comfort himself.
"Thanks for coming, Andy. Tommy just fell asleep but I'd like to make him some chicken soup for when he wakes up." Her voice cracked. "He has quite a fever."
They walked into the living-room where the boy was curled up on the sofa under several woolen blankets, holding on to his teddy bear, his face pale with flushed cheeks.
"Did you take him to the doctor?" he asked and she nodded.
"This morning. Yes. It's the flu. Poor baby."
They tiptoed into the adjoining kitchen where Sharon began to unpack the groceries Andy had bought, smiling at the wide range of chocolate products he'd purchased.
"He has difficulty eating due to his throatache," she relayed. "I don't think he'll be able to appreciate these until he gets better."
Andy shrugged. "I actually brought them for you, you know. To calm your nerves."
She looked grateful both at the gesture and the fact that he understood her concern. Soon a pot of soup was simmering on the stove and Andy was left alone in the kitchen while Sharon checked on her son in the other room. His eyes were drawn towards a stack of documents on the kitchen table and he found himself stepping closer to have a look. It seemed like legal papers to him, but he couldn't make out what exactly they entailed. It wasn't divorce, he could tell, since he'd been staring at his own divorce papers for two nights in a row before he'd signed them with tears in his eyes and the burning of vodka in his throat. She came back in before he could investigate any further and stirred the soup.
"Is this a family recipe that you could teach me?" he asked.
"Not really. My parents didn't cook themselves. I got this one out of a magazine that I was rather embarrassed to be seen buying."
They shared a grin at the thought of Sharon buying housewife's magazines.
"Too bad," he said. "I hope it helps."
There was the sound of crying from the other room and he followed her in to find her on the couch, holding her son in her lap. His eyes were a bit glassy and Sharon flinched when her lips touched his forehead.
"He's burning up," she said in a flat voice, cradling the child closer to her.
"My mother used to swear by leg compresses," he said. "Do you want to try?"
She nodded, if hesitantly, and he brought her wet cloths that she wrapped around her son's calves. Tommy protested with a low wail but then quickly fell back asleep when she wrapped him in his blankets again and adjusted his pillows. Andy listened to the string of whispered terms of endearments and thought of his own children who'd recently been relocated to San Diego. His wife had found a new boyfriend and he spent his darkest hours imagining the man playing with his kids while they called him "Daddy". His customary thoughts of Sharon's husband returned to the forefront of his mind when he watched taking care of her son. Where was he when the little one was ill? Had he left the family? Or was he a danger to the child? Her parents thought she had married well... maybe the guy was rich but less than interested in his son? Could someone like Sharon be such a spectacularly bad judge of character? Or was she able to fall in love head over heels just like anyone else, blinded by her feelings? He looked at her belly. Things had obviously been okay enough to have sex until five months ago. Tommy coughed and he was snapped out of his thoughts when Sharon got up and walked over to him. She looked strangely distraught and her usual self-control was suddenly lacking. Following a subconscious impulse, Andy reached out to touch her cheek and found his suspicion confirmed.
"Sharon, you're sick," he said matter-of-factly, holding on to her arm as she tried to pull away. "You should be in bed."
"It's not that bad," she murmured, trying to walk past him again, but he refused to let her go.
"Do I really have to remind you that you're carrying a child, Sharon? You need to take it easy."
As much as he wished that she wasn't pregnant, he didn't want any harm to come to her baby. For a moment they tried to stare each other down, then she surrendered; he could see it in her defeated expression and decided to act before she changed her mind.
"Go up to bed. I'll bring you some tea in a minute."
She looked uncomfortable depending on him, so he rolled his eyes. "Oh god, Sharon. Don't pull that one on me. We've already established that we're friends, so I might as well play nurse to you and Tommy for a while. I'm sure you'll be able to pay me back someday."
He left unspoken the fact, however, that she was already repaying him by giving him something to do and a reason to stay. Sharon turned towards Tommy without answering and scooped him up into her arms to carry him upstairs. Andy would have liked to do it for her, but he didn't think she would allow him to take any more responsibility from her so he followed her into the hall to see them upstairs safely. Ten minutes later he climbed the stairs with two steaming mugs of tea, taking a deep breath before opening the door to her bedroom. It was bigger than Tommy's room but still small enough to look a little crammed with only a bed, wardrobe and dresser. If he hadn't already been convinced that she was living alone, he would have been now. The bed was definitely too small for two and there wasn't even the slightest trace of a male presence in the room. Sharon was curled up under her covers, Tommy's head resting against her chest.
"Is he better?" Andy asked, placing her tea on the nightstand next to her and she nodded with considerable relief.
"I think his fever has gone down and he's sleeping a lot more soundly now."
"I should call my mother more often. She definitely taught me some useful stuff." He gestured towards the cup of tea. "Have some before it gets cold."
She sat up and dutifully sipped the hot beverage.
"You're a good friend, Andy Flynn," she said and after a pause added: "Are you sure you're Detective Andy Flynn with the LAPD? Because your file suggests that you'd rather raid my liquor cabinet and then try to charm me into having sex with you."
She was being rather blunt, he thought, and for a moment he wasn't sure whether he was supposed to laugh or lash out at her, but then she reached out and touched his elbow lightly.
"I didn't mean to offend you," she said, her expression soft. "It just boggles my mind how you can be this sweet and have an FID jacket of that size at the same time."
"You should probably have me reassigned to someone else while you're pregnant," he said, feigning honest concern. "I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be lifting heavy objects like my file."
"Very funny," she said but he could tell that she was relieved at his lack of antagonism. "Just don't give me an opportunity to add to it."
"I hope not to," he said, suddenly uncomfortable on the edge of her bed where he had been happy to perch just a moment ago. "I haven't had a single drink for almost five weeks now and I hope to keep it up."
He still hated to talk about his drinking and so far, Joel had been the only one he really confided it. His colleagues noticed the changes in him but didn't talk about it although he could tell that they were relieved. Sharon placed her hand on his arm again and squeezed it lightly, her fingers a comforting weight that urged him to continue.
"It's only now that I realize what an idiot I've been," he said carefully. "Everything I once cared about has slipped away from me and I didn't even notice. People at work are wary of me, my friends don't call since I'm not up for a night at the bar and I-" It was harder to continue than he'd expected. "I really miss my kids," he finished quickly, afraid that his voice would break. He looked at Tommy's serene face and imagined his own son in his stead.
Sharon didn't bother with platitudes but looked at him with a sympathetic look in her eyes that was a lot easier to endure than anyone else's pity.
"I called my ex-wife last night but she's not very cooperative. I used to hate her for it, but now I can see her point. At least I could talk her into allowing me to attend my daughter's birthday party in two weeks, so that's something to look forward to." Actually Andy was terrified that his kids would be distant towards him or that the new boyfriend would antagonize him, but at the same time he felt a strong yearning to go.
He felt self-conscious at having told someone as guarded as Sharon so much about himself and so he offered to carry Tommy into his own bed so the boy's sleep wouldn't be disturbed by their talking. Sharon looked slightly doubtful for a moment but then allowed him to hoist the little boy up into his arms and tuck him into his own bed down the hall. Tommy hardly stirred when Andy fastened the sheets around his tiny body. His eyelids fluttered once but then closed again for good. Andy stared down at the child and recognized Sharon in his features for the first time. His cheeks were still a little chubby and his nose was too tiny to be placed yet, but he could see that his eyes and eyebrows had been inherited from his mother. He walked back into Sharon's room and found her finishing the last of her tea. To his surprise she patted the empty space next to her on the bed. He followed her invitation and sat down on the covers, feeling stupid in his work clothes but glad that he had taken his shoes off earlier.
"Make yourself comfortable, friend," she said with an amused smile and so he took off his tie and jacket, rolling up his shirt sleeves to have something to do. She had changed into pajamas, he noticed, and the way the top clung to her breasts was a little distracting to say the least. Her turning towards him didn't help and he felt himself wishing that she would pull the covers up again. Unfortunately she had noticed the direction of his gaze and actually smiled. Maybe it was the fever, he consoled himself.
"Are you staring, Andy?" she asked, now definitely amused. "That's actually a little flattering, me being pregnant and sick."
He was glad that she wasn't mad at him. "Why the surprise? My daughter used to love dancing hippos," he told her and, to his relief, she got the reference to what she had said a few days ago at the deli. Otherwise she might have ripped his head off in a rage.
"What else does she like? What's her name?"
"Anna," he said quietly. "She turns nine next week and she loved horses when I last saw her." Which had been three months ago, a long time in a child's life.
"Horses," Sharon said. "I used to take riding lessons when I was a kid."
"Of course you did, Princess Diana," he teased her.
"Maybe I could recommend to you some books that I read back then," she said pensively. "I'm sure she'd like them."
"Sounds good."
"Oh, and: progress!" Sharon said, earning her a quizzical look. "You didn't ask me whether I made out with my girlfriends in the hayrick."
"Did you?"
She laughed again, launching into a coughing fit that didn't sound good. When it was over, she leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment, her exhaustion clearly showing. She finally pulled her covers up, shivering slightly.
"The thing I hate most about the flu is being cold," she said darkly but he couldn't tell whether it was an invitation – or even request – to warm her up or not. "No amount of blankets helps," she added, sulking.
With horror he found himself say "I'm a good blanket."
The silence between them was almost palpable for a moment and he wondered whether he should just backtrack and make a reference to their earlier girl-on-girl jokes to laugh it off. Instead he waited it out, holding her gaze.
"Andy..." she said in a voice that was so quiet that he hardly recognized it as hers. He wasn't sure whether she was sensing his now rather undeniable interest and was trying to let him down easy or whether she just didn't know what else to say and it made him nervous.
"A friendly blanket," he emphasized in case it was the first. Sharon smiled.
"Be warned. I kick in my sleep."
"I expected no less," he said, feeling a little faint as she inched closer to him, putting her head on his outstretched arm. Hesitantly and unsure where exactly to put his hand, he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her into him, grateful for the barrier the covers created between them just in case his thoughts would wander.
"You're a rather tentative blanket, Andy," she told him with mock sternness. "You can put your hand on my hip. That doesn't count as groping."
He released a snort of laughter. She was certainly guarded when it came to her secrets, but physical closeness didn't seem to bother her. Maybe she even relished it, he thought as he felt her snuggling into his side for warmth and – he was sure – comfort.
"Oh god, the rumors are true," he said. "I'm now officially in bed with FID."
"You see, I am going beyond the call of duty to keep you in line."
"Does that mean you do this for everyone who keeps being out of line? Because if word gets around, there might be riots."
"Oh yes. There's nothing more desirable than snuggling up with a dancing hippo, I am sure," she murmured sleepily and he felt her body relax in his arms. She was such a contradiction, he thought, in allowing him so close to her while she was always so distant. He remained silent when she turned around so they ended up spooning, her back flush against his chest. He caught the smell of her shampoo and felt the softness of her skin under his fingertips when he gingerly placed his hand on hers in a tight embrace.
He was genuinely surprised when he found his mind shutting down, too, while listening to her deep shallow breaths. Sleep didn't come easily to him these days but the comforting presence of his friend in his arms helped him relax. He fell asleep without thinking about alcohol for the first time since he'd stopped drinking.