(2012) Officer Jones

by Derek Ciccone

  I stared out at my brother as he approached. “Ethan was right … I should have been here.”

  Noah arrived with a bear hug for me that sent pain through my broken body. He had a cheek kiss for Pam, and smiles for the children, who declared their love for Uncle Noah, but took issue with the cigarette smell.

  Pam excused herself to find Ethan, but first invited Noah to their Labor Day barbecue on Monday.

  “I wouldn’t miss it, sis,” he said with a smile.

  It was good to see him smile, especially now knowing what today signified.

  “You look a mess,” he addressed me.

  “You should see the other guy.”

  “I did … every night on the news, claiming he was gonna kill my big brother if their demands weren’t met.”

  “And he would have, but then he found out how happy everyone would be if he got rid of me.”

  Noah laughed, before embracing again. This was a much more affectionate Noah than the one I remembered from before the accident.

  Our reunion wasn’t like old times. Old times, frankly, weren’t that memorable in our relationship. We didn’t fight like he and Ethan did—we always got along—the problem was that we rarely spent time together. I went off to college when Noah was just in first grade. Maybe because of the wide age gap, he always seemed to be trying to find his identity. I had regrets about not being there for him in the way that Ethan was there to steer me in the right direction, or at least attempt to. Maybe that’s why he gripped so tightly to Lisa.

  So it was like new times. Times I looked forward to.

  We remained standing in the middle of the fairgrounds, rehashing last night’s game, and getting me caught up on all the hot-button topics in Rockfield. He also received the first, in what I figured would be many “smoking is bad for you” lectures.

  The most interesting part of the conversation was Noah’s career plans. As far as I knew, he never had any before. Lisa was his career. He had returned to school to become a guidance counselor. He wanted to help kids so that they, to use his words, “Don’t mess up their lives the way I did.”

  What we didn’t talk about was the accident.

  Nobody was closer than Noah and Lisa. They had enough passion to fill up ten rooms, and even though their relationship often played out in an endless cycle of drama, fights, and making up—their love was too strong for anything to keep them apart.

  There was an outcry in Rockfield that Noah got off with just a slap on the wrist. There couldn’t be anything further from the truth—he received a life sentence. And if it were left up to him, he would have pleaded to anything that got him the death penalty, in order to rejoin Lisa quicker.

  Noah looked at his watch. “I gotta take off, JP,” he said, before surprising me with another embrace. “But we’ll definitely hook up at Ethan’s on Monday.”

  “Hot date?” I asked.

  Noah’s look intensified. “No, I’m just going to meet an old friend. We haven’t talked in a while.”

  “Are you going to be alright?” I instinctively asked, the big brother in me showing through.

  Noah looked back as he walked away. “I’m going to be fine,” he said, and smiled mischievously. “And speaking of old friends who haven’t talked in awhile, JP—I saw Gwen Delaney walking around here earlier.”

  I watched him fade into the distance. He turned back momentarily and gave me one more smile and wave. He seemed better, especially compared to the vision of him on that bridge that was now etched in my mind. I looked forward to spending time with him, vowing to do my best to make up for lost years.

  Then my mind wandered to Gwen.

  Chapter 27

  I stood as inconspicuously as possible amongst a crowd cheering two fat guys participating in the annual pie-eating contest. It was enough to make me never want to eat again.

  After Ethan’s stinging words, I had a sudden urge to find my mother so she could work her magic to ease my guilt. I pulled my baseball cap down as far as I could and slipped out of the crowd. I hobbled down a grass corridor between the exhibit tents. And then time froze.

  I couldn’t help but stare at the raven-haired beauty in the distance. I was paralyzed by a tornado of swirling emotions. History would record our relationship as a complex mix of pure greatness at the highest level and the relentless cloud of what might have been. It was similar to the way my father used to describe Mickey Mantle.

  Gwen didn’t seem to be afflicted with the same inner turmoil, and began casually strolling toward me. I didn’t notice a twitch of hesitation, nor did I sense that this was a life-altering moment for her.

  I never wanted to see someone as much and as little at the same time. Her long legs were covered by a knee-length plaid skirt and high black boots, which were more fairground-appropriate than Lauren’s heels. Physically, she looked similar to the last time I saw her, but this Gwen carried an aura of sophistication.

  A camera hung around her neck, and bounced up and down as she approached—like my heart palpitations. My knees weakened, forcing me to lean on my cane for support.

  “JP, I heard you were in town. It’s good to see you in one piece after what you went though,” she greeted me affably, and offered me a handshake like we were business colleagues.

  I just stared at her. I had thought about this moment for a long time, but never really prepared what I’d actually say. In the daydreams the conversation depended upon my mood. Sometimes I would call her every name in the book for moving on without me. Other times we would rush into each other’s arms and declare that true love really is forever.

  I knew touching her hand would be a mistake, so I didn’t. “It’s been a long time,” was all I could manage to say.

  “Yeah, it’s been a while. It must be a few years now.”

  Must be a few years? The words ripped at me. Her casualness in the wake of such a historic event—our last meeting, well over a decade ago now—was like a knife to my lungs. Could she possibly not have our last meeting burned in her mind, as I had?

  We started making chitchat about mundane subjects. This didn’t add up, as in no reunion fantasy of mine was it ever blasé. And as the shock of our sudden meeting began to wear off, I started to grow irritated. I searched for any clue that she carried the same devastating scar from our relationship, but found none.

  As we continued beating the humdrum, she caught me staring at her ring finger.

  “Stephen and I got divorced two years ago, to answer your question,” she said.

  Just the mention of his name brought out my inner J-News. “I never know whether to give condolences or congratulations when people get divorced.”

  “It was a tough time for both of us. Everyone goes into marriage thinking it will last forever,” she replied, matter of fact.

  It shouldn’t have been that tough. In fact, it should have been the easiest decision she ever made … since she was supposed to still be in love with me. I never let myself think that she actually loved the guy, or dreamt of spending her life with him. I’d convinced myself that she’d married him out of spite or youthful naiveté, and she eventually realized where her heart stood on the issue. Maybe it would have been best to never see her again and maintain my delusions. But it was too late for that, and I could no longer hold back.

  “I’m relieved it was just divorce. I thought he might have died of old age. What was he like, a hundred when you married him?”

  Her face turned beet-red—I had hit a nerve.

  “The guy I dated before Stephen was an immature child, so it was nice to be with a grownup, no matter how it ended,” she said, her eyes wandering to my cane. “By the looks of it, the more things change the more they stay the same.”

  The small dash of anger provided me the hope I needed to continue on. I knew, or at least hoped, that there was no way our epic tale could end with handshakes and bland discussion of the weather. I needed there to be an emotional connection, even if it came in the form of hatred or regret.


  I followed Gwen’s eyes—still a radiant green—to my cane. My stare appeared to make her uncomfortable. She looked away as she spoke, an edge in her voice, “It was good to see you again, JP. I assume you’re just on a stopover between exotic countries. So have a safe trip.”

  I continued staring at her. I couldn’t stop.

  “What?” she finally asked with irritation.

  I said nothing. I couldn’t.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting back to that news model who has set journalism back a couple of centuries? I think she’s still trolling around somewhere in her supermodel heels.”

  My smile came to life. “How did you know Lauren was here today?”

  Gwen was suddenly flustered, but recovered nicely. “I’m a journalist, remember? You know, like you used to be.”

  “Used to be?”

  “Yeah, back in college before you became a bad example of reality TV.”

  Reality TV was a low blow. Our relationship had officially hit rock bottom.

  “You mean that same ‘back in college’ time right before you kicked me to the curb, and ran off and married Grandpa Warbucks.”

  She crossed her arms around her chest like the temperature had suddenly dropped fifty degrees. I remembered it as her trademark move when we fought. “Oh please, you were the one who needed to go off and see the world. You can try to write history all you want, JP, but it’ll never change the outcome.”

  The cards were now on the table. I ran off to parts unknown and shut her out of my life. Gwen married someone else. But as much as I might want to rewrite a better ending, she was correct about one thing—it wouldn’t change anything.

  “Just tell me something, Gwen.”

  “And that is?”

  “When those terrorists took me hostage, were you rooting for me or them?”

  “Knowing you, JP, you probably staged the whole thing for a publicity stunt. Are you sure you even need that cane?”

  She kicked the cane away with her boot, causing me to helplessly fall to the ground. The cane scattered to my right and my baseball cap flew off. A new rock bottom had been established.

  She immediately knew she’d stepped over the line. She likely wanted to get things off her chest, not commit assault and battery. And she was sharp enough to realize that it wasn’t a smart move to beat up a handicapped American hero in a public place. Small town gossip could be relentless.

  I remained on the ground, playing the empathy card to the hilt. Nothing else was working. Gwen gathered my cap and cane, and reached down to help me up, which I stubbornly refused.

  I rolled onto my strong side and maneuvered to a kneeling position, before pushing myself to my feet. I begrudgingly accepted the cap and cane without as much as a thank you.

  After dusting myself off, I said, “One of my best friends was paralyzed, and our guide was killed on that so-called publicity stunt.”

  “I’m sorry, JP … I didn’t know … I was totally out of line.”

  This time I accepted her apology, but wasn’t ready to talk about Byron. I had become an expert at holding stuff in to let it boil and fester. I called it intestinal fortitude, while Christina referred to it as the first warning sign of my inevitable stroke. So I did what I do so well—I changed the subject.

  “It’s good to know I still bring out the best in you,” I said, testing the rough waters with a grin.

  That’s when I noticed a slight smile escape from Gwen’s lips. It was the smile I had longed to see for all those years.

  Chapter 28

  The moment was fleeting. Seemingly appearing out of nowhere, a uniformed Rockfield police officer came up behind Gwen. I was still feeling the effect of the smile, and playfully said, “Thank you for you concern, officer, but I don’t plan to press charges.”

  When I took a closer look, I realized it was Jones. The man was everywhere. A small, dark-haired boy rode piggyback on his shoulders. He set the child down and they slapped smiling high-fives. The boy ran to Gwen and hugged her, before rambling on about his ride on the roller coaster.

  Jones put his arm around Gwen, marking his territory. “So who brings out the best in my girl?”

  Gwen made the introduction. She referred to me as her “childhood friend” and simply called him Kyle. No mention of the BF word, even if it was implied. We awkwardly shook hands, before informing her that we’d already met.

  “Congratulations on your award,” I said, trying to buy some time to wake up from my worst nightmare—maybe that was the reason for the bad vibes. I looked into Jones’ eyes as I said it. Once again they gave me an eerie feeling. I pulled away from the gaze and tried to look at Gwen, but she subtly turned away.

  Jones looked back at me like he was sizing up his competition. “You are Noah Warner’s brother, correct? I’m sorry, when I was at the house the other day, I didn’t put two and two together.”

  “Some would say he’s my brother.”

  “It’s too bad,” Jones said, shaking his head while eying the ground.

  I predicted his condolences about the accident, and mentally prepared my reply.

  He stared at me so hard it actually gave me a chill, then said, “It sickens me that your brother murdered that innocent girl.”

  The comment hit me like burning shrapnel. “That’s a family matter.”

  “It’s the community’s business when someone chooses to drink and drive. It’s no different than if a sex offender moved into the community.”

  I strained as hard as I could to convince myself to take the high road. I really did. But Gwen’s boyfriend calling my brother a murderer was just too much to take.

  “Everybody makes mistakes. For example, your parents had you.”

  Jones flushed, his beady eyes narrowing to angry slits. The subject seemed personal.

  Gwen stepped in between us—the frightened child in her arms—trying to play peacemaker. “Doesn’t your shift start in a few minutes, Kyle?”

  “Duty calls,” he said, forcing something resembling a smile. He gave Gwen a peck on the lips, which made me cringe. He then exchanged another high-five with the boy. “I’ll see you later, Tommy.”

  “Bye, Kyle,” Tommy replied, waving at Officer Jones as he walked away. The boy then shifted gears—now pleading with Gwen to purchase a candy apple. Gwen agreed in motherly fashion, but warned him to return immediately after the purchase. Dollar bills seemed to magically appear in her hand. The boy gleefully grabbed them and ran to the concession stand.

  Awkward silence filled the air, as if someone had hit the mute button. Finally I broke the silence, “Kyle seems like a really great guy.” I didn’t even attempt to sell the statement as sincere.

  “I’m sorry for the comments about your brother. In his job, he’s seen some bad tragedies from drinking and driving, and he’s become quite close with the Spargo family. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”

  I nodded, although I believed Officer Jones had meant every word of it, and most likely had held back due to Gwen’s presence.

  My attention went to Tommy, taking special notice of the striking resemblance between Gwen and the boy. It was just starting to sink in that Gwen had a son. Just one of the many dynamics that I didn’t factor in during my daydreams about recapturing the past.

  “I didn’t know you had a child,” I said. I wasn’t sure why this surprised me—Gwen was in her late thirties and had been married for years. It was logical.

  “Not sure why you would know. Actually, I have three children, JP,” she said.

  I remained quiet. This wasn’t exactly how I pictured this moment.

  “What’s wrong? No wisecrack about how surprised you are such an old guy like Stephen could rise to the occasion so many times. Then flash that annoying smug smile of yours and quip ‘no pun intended.’”

  She couldn’t jar me out of my serious mode. “How are the kids handling the divorce?” I remembered when Gwen’s parents divorced and how traumatic that was for her.

&nbs
p; Gwen couldn’t hold back a smile, which confused me. “I’m just messing with you, JP.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Stephen and I never had children. Tommy’s not my son—he’s my brother.”

  I tried to do the genealogy arithmetic in my head, but I was never very good at math.

  Gwen seemed to be reveling in my perplexed look. “My father re-married—a woman much younger than him. They had Tommy, she bailed, and then my father had a heart attack.”

  My confusion quickly switched to concern. I’d always had a close relationship with Mr. Delaney. “Is he...”

  “He pulled through, and has improved a lot this past year, but he needs a lot of help with Tommy. I temporarily moved back to Rockfield when Stephen and I split up, but temporary is a lot longer than it used to be.”

  I was relieved that Mr. Delaney survived. But the stronger pangs of relief were because Gwen hadn’t started our family without me. I needed a whole team of therapists.

  “So how’s your mother doing?” I asked.

  “She’s good. Lives out in Tucson. Has a male companion, which I guess is a way to say boyfriend when you are over sixty. And yes, JP, you are still her favorite, which she subtly reminds me every time she sends me the latest newspaper clipping about your adventures.”

  I was just about to smile, until Gwen added, “I guess mother doesn’t always know best.”

  The return of Tommy was welcomed. If nothing else, he could fill in the awkward pauses. He pointed his candy apple toward the bustling carnival area, and exclaimed, “Can we go on the Ferris wheel, Gwen?”

  I could tell that Gwen saw it as an excuse to get out while she was ahead, or at least not losing. “Of course, Tommy.”

  Tommy flashed a satisfied look, took a big bite of his candy apple, and pointed at me. “Can the guy with the stick come?”

  Gwen looked up at me, then at her younger brother.

  She looked conflicted.

  So I spoke for her, “I’d love to, Tommy.”