SAILING INTO UNCHARTED WATERS
Chapter Eleven
"Lori, what the hell happened?" John asked, pushing aside the curtain in the temporary 'room' in the ER.
Laura looked into the worried face of her husband and bit her lower lip.
"Honey, are you okay?" He leaned down, quickly kissed her mouth and then looked at her intently. "Talk to me, Lori."
She blushed and refused to meet his eyes. "It was the tuna fish."
Mystified, John stared at her. "Tuna fish? Sweetheart, what are you talking about?"
She sighed deeply, preparing herself for the fallout even though she didn't see how a simple trip to the grocery store put her in the wrong. "I was hungry and we were out of tuna fish," she said simply.
He continued to look at her. "Am I missing something? You were in a car accident because you were hungry? Lori, the apartment is full of food."
"Yes, but there was no tuna fish. I wanted tuna fish. I needed tuna fish. You know how I get now, John."
Seeing his face begin to redden, she went on to explain. "I was smart, though. I knew taking the bus or even the subway wasn't a good idea… so I called a cab. How was I supposed to know the cabby was a frustrated race car driver?"
John pulled up a chair and sat down in it. "Christ, Lori… tuna fish?" He wanted to say more, much more, but he held his tongue. "How do you feel? Are you okay?"
She nodded. "But I want to go home, Johnny. The doctor says everything is fine, but I'm really tired. I just want to go home, change into something comfortable and get in bed." She caressed the side of his face and smiled sweetly. "I want to be held… pampered. Can we go home now?"
He let his anger and worry go and turned his face into the palm of her hand, kissing it. "Yeah, we can go – soon as the doc gives the okay, we'll leave."
"Good," she said, satisfied all was well. "And, Johnny…"
He looked at her.
"Can we stop for some tuna fish on the way?"
Andy was going through Sylvia Costas's file on that rug-wearing creep, Giardella, his scowl deepening with each page he read.
The squad room was quiet. Most of his fellow detectives had left for home or for a quick bite before starting the evening shift. It was the quiet before the storm – the room would soon be humming with activity as New York crazies began showing up, alone or accompanied by cops.
At their last meeting, Andy had promised Costas that he would take a look at the file and see if there was anything new he could add. So far, there was nothing and it frustrated Andy to see how flimsy the case against Giardella was.
How does this son of a bitch stay out of jail? he wondered. But he knew the answer – it was the creepy but effective lawyer on Angelo Marino's payroll. Andy had to hand it to Marino, that sleaze bag Giardella answered to; Marino knew how to hire good counsel.
Alphonse Giardella was a cheap thug and a self-absorbed little prick. He didn't care who he hurt or how much. They'd come so close to convicting him several times over the past five years, but each time the fat bastard walked. Their best opportunity for putting him away occurred two summers ago. Andy was certain Giardella had been the instigator in the gunfight that broke out between two warring crime families in an Italian restaurant, but there was no real proof and Giardella had an alibi that stood up in court. The guy was like Teflon – nothing stuck to him. His smooth and powerful attorney made sure of that – and so did Marino, a hood who had connections.
Well, Angelo Marino might be virtually untouchable, but Andy knew Giardella was not. He was going to get that contemptible son of a bitch one way or the other.
He yawned and looked at his watch. It was almost seven p.m. He wondered how things were going with John and Lori. The kid had sounded relieved when he'd called Andy to tell him Lori and the baby were okay, and that he was taking the rest of the day to be with Lori.
Women, he thought. Damned crazy creatures. Drive a man nuts if you let 'em.
His thoughts drifted to Katie.
In the beginning, he and his ex-wife had shared some good years. That was before she began harping about the job, how he couldn't leave it at work, how he was always bringing it home to her and Andy, Jr. Got to the point he couldn't stand to go home and see the sour look on her face.
Christ! If she saw the things he saw every day, she'd find it difficult to leave it back in the squad room, too. Did she think he was a freaking machine, able to turn it on and off? The endless fighting about work, the accusations that it was changing him, making him coarse and mean, became too much. He left while they could still be friends.
Friends. He laughed silently. Some friendship, her glaring daggers at him every time he dropped off the alimony check. Still, the divorce allowed them the space to be civil with one another. In the end, it was all they had left. Civility.
He could see the same thing was happening with John, but he kept his trap shut about it. It was up to the kid to work things out. As much as Andy disliked Lori, he hoped John did work it out.
There was something different about John; he wasn't like the rest of them. He wasn't cynical – not yet. He wanted the things Andy had tossed away: the good marriage, kids, the decent family life.
Andy didn't want to see John ending up alone, looking for affection from empty-eyed whores and sharing his evenings with a bottle of whiskey.
No, he didn't want that for him, but he kept his mouth shut. Interfering in another cop's personal affairs was against his code, even if that cop was like a son to him.
John had to find his own way. Maybe it would be different with him. Maybe he could have it all – the job, the family.
A feeling of hopelessness surged through Andy as he considered all he had given up. He'd like a steady life again, not with Katie… no, that ship had sailed. But maybe with someone… someone he could come home to who wouldn't harangue him about the job, someone who'd take his mind off all the ugly stuff he saw every day.
That's what the drinking was really about – all the crap he experienced, his increasing inability to leave it behind at the end of the shift. And the goddam loneliness. It had all started with just a drink or two after work, a way of smoothing out the end of his day. After a while, though, it became more than one or two drinks – and no longer confined to the hours after work.
"See you're going through that file, huh?"
Andy looked up to see Sylvia Costas, smooth and elegant, standing in front of his desk and pointing down at the file.
"Yeah," he replied, sitting up and straightening his tie. "While it's quiet around here, I thought I'd take a look and see if you missed anything."
She grinned. "If I missed anything? Officer, I work with what you give me. You give me garbage, you get garbage. How about giving me something useful next time?"
I'd like to give you something useful, sister, he thought, annoyed.
But not too terribly annoyed. There was something about Costas that he liked in spite of her prissy ways. Part of it was the way her legs looked in that skirt… the other part was her mouth. She acted like butter wouldn't melt in it – until you got her goat. Then she said what the hell she liked and she didn't mince words.
He liked a woman that gave as good as she got – even if it sometimes pissed him off.
"So, have you eaten?" she asked, surprising him. "Maybe we could get a hamburger and go over the file. What do you say?"
Part of Andy liked the idea. A lot. But another part of him was a little scared of Sylvia. Why that was the case, he wasn't sure. He didn't like being frightened of a woman.
"Sorry, Esteemed Counsel, no can do… my dance card is all full up this evening."
She frowned. "I'm not asking you out for a date, Andy. I thought we could discuss the case."
"Yeah, right."
"You've got a mighty high opinion of your own self-worth, don't you, mister? Well, here's a newsflash: you're not all that special." She turned on her heel and headed for the door.
"What a jackass," he heard her mutter as she left.
Jackass.
Try as he might, he couldn't disagree.
John sat in the living room, a cold beer in his hand, and his eyes fixed unseeingly on the TV screen in front of him. His thoughts were far from the game he was watching and the Mets' chances for the playoff season.
The day had been a bitch, and he was feeling unsettled. The fear he'd felt when he got the call from the hospital had taken a lot out of him. Lori was now sleeping peacefully in the other room, no worse for wear.
The same couldn't be said for him. He was still shaken.
And from more than Lori's accident.
The exchange he'd had with Art Fancy earlier in the day continued to bother him. The fright he'd experienced on learning of Lori's accident had taken much of the heat from his anger, convincing him that Fancy's remarks were not important in the bigger scheme of things.
At the time, though, he'd been so incensed he'd considered going over Fancy's head and writing to his superior, telling him that Fancy's interference in his men's personal affairs was unprofessional, contributing nothing to the morale of the office. He'd silently composed a bitter diatribe about Fancy's shortcomings and might have put it to paper if Lori's accident hadn't taken front and center in his mind.
Imagine the consequences that little effort in self-indulgence would have cost you, Kelly, he thought wryly. You'd have gotten a reputation for being a crybaby and for disloyalty to a commanding officer. And for what?
To salve a guilty conscience.
John finished his beer and set it aside.
He knew what this was about.
Guilt.
He felt guilty he hadn't talked to Lori about the open position. They were a team. Wasn't that what he was always telling her? He was the one who was always trying to get Lori to open up and discuss things, and here he was, holding out on her on something this important.
But he knew why he hadn't yet talked to her. She would have pushed him to take the job.
And he didn't want it.
That was what was at the heart of his anger with Fancy. He knew the man was right, but that didn't make John like it any better.
As a husband with a baby on the way, he should have at least discussed the matter with Lori, helped her understand why he wasn't yet ready to leave the streets.
But what was the point? He knew he'd never make her understand how satisfying it was to him to deal one-on-one with the punks out there. Every time he brought one of the bad guys in, he felt like he was scoring one for his old man.
His old man.
Is that what this was all about? Trying to make things right because some creeps gunned down his father?
A chill went through him as he recalled the grief he'd felt when his dad's partner came to the door with the news. Is that the sort of heartache he wanted to put Lori through? Or his kid?
John stood up and reached for the empty beer can. On his way to the kitchen, he tried to convince himself that his not telling Lori about the position hadn't been done with premeditation. He'd meant to tell her – when the time was right.
But would the time ever be right?
Honesty forced him to admit he'd held his silence in hopes that the whole thing might go away. Tossing the can into the trash, he was headed to the shower when he heard Lori's soft voice call out to him.
"Hey, honey," he said, coming to sit by her. "How are you feeling?"
"Lonely," she said, smiling.
He stretched out on the bed next to her, gathering her close. "Better?"
"Lots."
For several moments, the two lay quietly, each lost in their own thoughts. John's troubled heart quieted as he breathed in the fresh scent of her hair and neck.
"That tickles," she said, moving slightly away and grinning up at him.
"Does this tickle?" he asked, kissing her deeply, his hands beginning to roam in her soft, thick hair.
"That's enough, officer," she laughed, breaking the kiss after a few intense seconds. "Your wife is still kind of tired… and hungry."
"Oh, Lord," groaned John. "Not the tuna fish again!"
"Ice cream would be nice. There's some strawberry in the 'fridge."
John sat up. "Woman, you are going to get as big as a house if you keep these cravings up."
"What can I say? No point in arguing with Mother Nature. I've got a hungry kid in here," she said, pointing toward her stomach.
Grinning, John leaned forward and placed a quick kiss there. "Okay, one bowl of ice cream coming up."
"Thank you, kind sir, for being gracious to the mother of your child," she teased.
She watched him leave the room and stretched out against the soft pillows. I could get used to this, she thought, ice cream in bed at night. She started to giggle, but stopped when she felt an odd sensation near her pelvis. Before she could consider what she was feeling, a sharp pain followed, leaving her gasping in surprise.
What? What was happening?
The pain abated, leaving Laura frightened and clammy. She touched lightly and protectively the region where she was sure her baby lay. Quietly, she hardly dared to breathe, hoping she'd feel nothing further...
Again, another pain! Laura began to cry.
"Johnny, Johnny, come quick," she called.
Unaware of his wife's distress, John answered nonchalantly, "Hold your horses, Missy, I'm getting the ice cream as quick as I can."
He was smiling, amused by Lori's cravings, when he heard a small scream. The bowl of ice cream dropped from his hands, crashing to the floor.
"Lori!" he cried, running to the bedroom.
He took a deep, frightened breath when he saw her. Pale with fear, her face was streaked with tears.
"Honey, what is it?" he asked, his heart beating rapidly.
She pulled two fingers from beneath the bedspread and held them up. They were covered in blood.
"I need to go to the hospital," she sobbed.
"Hey kid, how's it going?" asked Andy quietly, sliding into the chair next to John's in the waiting room.
John shook his head, unable to speak for a moment.
"Any word yet on Lori or the baby?"
Again John shook his head. "Thanks for coming, Andy… I, um… I didn't want to wait alone."
Andy nodded. Briefly, he patted John's knee, and then leaned back in the chair to wait with him. "You want to talk about it?"
"I don't know what happened. She seemed okay, you know? One minute, we were laughing, joking… she asked for ice cream… then she started crying. God… the ride over here! It was a nightmare." He ran a shaky hand through his hair and then leaned his head back against the wall. "Christ, she was in so much pain, blood on her legs, tears. She kept begging me not to let her lose the baby."
He quickly stood up and began to walk around the room.
"Come on, John, sit back down." Andy watched his friend, a troubled expression on his face.
John stopped pacing and looked at Andy. "Maybe it was the taxi ride. She was shook up from the accident. The docs said she was okay! They let her go home, for God's sake! If anything had been wrong, why would they have let her go home?"
"John, sit down. You're all worked up. That won't be any good for Lori. Take a deep breath and try to calm down."
John realized Andy was right and tried to get hold of himself. He sat down and began to take deep breaths. "This is my fault."
"Oh, for crissakes, John," replied Andy, irritably. "You don't yet know that anything is wrong. The baby might be fine. Besides, how do you figure this is your fault?"
John didn't say anything. He didn't know how to put it into words.
On the surface, he knew Andy was right, but something inside him told him differently. Maybe it wasn't the taxi ride that was the cause of Lori's being here.
Maybe the worries she had about his working the streets had caught up with her. What if he'd told her about the job opening? She would have felt relief… happiness…
Would it have made a difference?
Lori's doctor, her face tired and sad, walked into the waiting room and John quickly stood up. She reached for his hand and looked deeply into his eyes. "John, I'm sorry," she said softly.
"The baby…" he began.
"It was a spontaneous abortion, John. There was nothing anyone could do."
"Lori?"
"She's fine," the doctor quickly assured him. "She's okay, but she needs you."
John nodded, but looked lost. He slowly sat back down. Andy gripped his forearm. "Hang on, kid. It's gonna be okay."
John looked at the doctor. "Lori was here earlier… an accident."
The doctor sat on the other side of him, and again reached for his hand. "John, I read the chart. Lori checked out fine after the accident. There was no reason to keep her. These things, well, they happen sometimes with first pregnancies. Something was wrong, something we couldn't see… it's nature's way of taking care of things… the body aborts the fetus."
"Not fetus!" John said roughly, pulling his hand from hers. "Baby, it was our baby!"
"You're right, you're right," she said soothingly. "I'm sorry, John. Forgive me. It's the clinician in me… sometimes it makes me sound cold. I don't mean to be, okay?"
"Okay." He sighed. "We waited so long… tried so hard…"
Andy swallowed painfully. Listening to the kid was like having someone physically wring his heart. The anguish in John's voice was difficult to bear, and he didn't know what to say and so he kept squeezing his arm, hoping to give him some support.
The doctor continued. "I know, and that's why you need to go in and see Lori now. She's feeling all the things you're feeling – and to that you can add a healthy dose of guilt."
That startled him. "Guilt? She has nothing to feel guilty about."
"No," agreed the doctor. "She doesn't, and neither do you. But that doesn't really mean anything to you right now, does it? The heart feels what it feels. Listen to me, John: you both are going to have to be very good to each other. Very patient. And take heart. I know you and Lori had a hard time getting pregnant, but it's often the case that second pregnancies occur much faster. Give yourselves some time to grieve, and then try again. There's nothing to prevent you from having a healthy baby the next time."
John took a deep breath and nodded.
"Are you okay? Ready to see your wife now?"
"Yeah, I'm ready – as ready as I'm ever gonna be." He stood up and bit his lip, wondering what he was going to say to his wife.
She looked so small to him, so fragile and pale, lying there in the dim yellow light of the hospital room. He approached quietly, sliding into the chair near the bed. Lori appeared to be sleeping. After all she'd been through he hated the idea of disturbing her. He reached for her hand, gently taking it in his. Her eyes opened at his touch and she looked at him.
"No baby," she said softly. "I lost him, Johnny… I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry."
There were tears in her eyes, and John felt his own eyes begin to water.
"Not your fault, not your fault," he said brokenly, holding her hand to his lips.
"Sure feels like it," she said sadly.
He dropped his head next to hers, and drew a shuddering breath.
"We'll try again." John's voice was shaky, and he wasn't sure what he was saying. He felt he was babbling, but he needed to say something, anything, to comfort her… to comfort himself. Why did it hurt so much?
"The doc says, the doc, well, she said there's nothing to prevent us from having a healthy baby next time, honey…"
She placed a finger against his lips. "Not now, Johnny. I can't talk about that now."
John found a tissue, wiped her eyes and then his own. "Okay, sweetheart, okay…"
The two were quiet then, each lost in painful thoughts of what might have been.
To be continued.
Authors' Note: This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: mystified; fallout; pampered; self-absorbed; gunfight; contemptible; divorce; interfering; hopelessness; self-worth; diatribe; consequences; grief; heartache; empty; premeditation; gracious; unaware; and distress.