by Jay Allisan
I got him some Tylenol and put a glass of water on the nightstand. I pulled the blankets back onto the bed and gave him his pillow.
“I’ll tell Dixon you’re sick,” I said. “But if you’re not feeling better by the time I get home, I’m taking you to the doctor.”
Max burrowed into the blankets and closed his eyes. I kissed his cheek.
“Call me if you need anything.”
He nodded.
“I love you.”
“You too.”
When I came home he was dressed and cooking supper, and the next morning he was up before me. No more ramen. No more headaches. But the dark circles beneath his eyes wouldn’t fade away.
April
MAX LEANED forward, his hands on his knees, his chest heaving as if he was going to vomit. I rubbed his back. “It’s okay, just relax. They covered the body again.”
“Oh God,” he whispered hoarsely. “Oh my God. Her face… I can’t look—”
“Take a deep breath, Max. It’s okay. You don’t have to look.”
“It’s my job and I can’t… oh, God.”
His shoulders rolled and he clapped a hand to his mouth. I grabbed him around the waist and dragged him out of the house, just in time for him to lose his lunch into the bushes. He sagged to the ground, pale and trembling.
I pulled him to his feet. “Not here, Max. Let’s go back to the car and take a break, okay? I’ll get you something to drink.”
I got him into the passenger seat of the sedan and snagged a bottle of water from the trunk. He swirled a mouthful and spat it out before gulping down the rest.
“Do you want another one?” I asked. He shook his head. I crouched down so we were eye level. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He crumpled the empty bottle and tossed it in the backseat. “I’m fine,” he mumbled. “I just wasn’t prepared. I’m fine now.”
I put my hand on his knee. “Max…”
He stood abruptly, stepping around me so quick I almost fell on my ass. I scrambled after him and caught his wrist. “Max!”
“I’m fine,” he said again. He tugged free of my grip and shoved his hands in his pockets. He gestured vaguely with his head. “I’m going to go talk to the neighbors. Over there.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“I can do it by myself.”
“I know. I’d still like to come—”
“Just let me do it by myself,” he snapped. “I’m a detective too. I can do it by myself.”
I flinched at his tone, then raised my hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay, Max. If you need anything I’ll be with forensics.”
The fire left his eyes and tinged his cheeks instead, but he pressed his mouth shut and walked away.
August
I HOVERED anxiously outside the conference room, peering through the window every few seconds. Max was still crying. Dixon knelt in front of his chair, mouthing things I couldn’t hear. My hand fell on the doorknob but Paddy pulled it back.
“Just give him a minute.”
“He needs me.”
“This is between him and Dixon, Shirley. You’ll complicate things.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Paddy took me by the arm and dragged me away from the door. “You know damn well what it means. He’s worked up enough as it is, and if you go in there now it’ll be too much. That’ll be the end of it.” He gripped my arm tighter. “Hey. Hey. Don’t you get worked up now too. Whatever he decides, you’re gonna support him, got it?”
I didn’t answer.
“Got it?”
“I just hope—”
“I know,” said Paddy quietly. “Me too.”
It was a long time before Max came back out. I sucked in a sharp breath at the look on his face, my stomach aching as if I’d been sucker-punched. I wanted to run, maybe to him or maybe away, but I couldn’t get my feet to move. He came to me instead.
“I’m going to take some time off,” he said, looking at the floor. “But I can’t do this anymore, Shirley. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I said, and I meant it. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Couldn’t do anything right, either.”
I seized him urgently, almost shaking him. “That’s not true, Max. That’s not what happened.”
His eyes lifted slowly, flooded with tears. “Then what happened? What happened to me? I used to be able to do this. I used to… I just wanted to help people.”
“You have, you’ve helped so many people.”
He shook his head tiredly, doubtfully.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said again. “This isn’t your fault. We see a lot of terrible things and it’s hard. Hard to keep your distance.”
“You can do it, and Paddy—”
“It’s not about anyone but you, and—” I had to swallow twice before I could keep going. “And it’s been really hurting you, Max. You shouldn’t put yourself through this, not when you don’t need to.” I pulled him into a hug, so grateful when he returned it. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not mad at you. I just want you to be happy again, whatever you want to do.”
“I don’t know what I want to do,” he whispered. “This is all I know.”
“You don’t have to leave the force altogether. You could train for something new. What about instructing at the academy? You’re a great teacher.”
“I don’t know.”
“Or how about working in a school? Or maybe—”
“I don’t know, Shirley. I have to think about it for a while.”
“Okay. That’s okay, Max. Take your time. There’s no rush.”
He let me go, as deflated as I’d ever seen him. “I’m going to go home now. I’ll see you tonight.”
“I love you,” I said.
He nodded. “I know.”
One slow step after another, he left the office and made his way down the hall. I began to follow. “I should—”
“No,” said Dixon. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Give him space. He needs time to think it through.”
I watched Max turn into the stairwell, watched him disappear behind the door. I didn’t look away. If I waited long enough he’d change his mind. He’d turn around and come back and he’d be happy again, and everything would go back to normal.
I just wanted to go back to normal.
“Come sit, Shirley,” said Dixon. “We’ve got work to do.”
He guided me to my chair. I sank down numbly, still looking toward the door. “He’s leaving. He’s really leaving us.”
“This is what’s best for Max,” said Dixon. “He’s been struggling for a while now.”
I’d known. I’d known, and I’d just watched it happen. “I thought he’d get better. He always gets better. He always…”
Dixon gave my shoulder a pat. “Change is difficult, but Max will be all right, and so will you. Let’s get back to work.”
I stared at the desk beside me instead, the one Max would never sit at again.
It was our first anniversary.
October
“BOMB SQUAD.”
“Yes.”
“Bomb squad.”
“Yes, sweetheart. Bomb squad.”
Max was watching me carefully. I fought to keep my expression positive, neutral at the very least. “Bomb squad,” I said. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Why bomb squad?”
“You keep saying bomb squad, Shirley.”
“I—I’m just…”
He stopped walking, the crunchy leaves underfoot falling silent. We were in the park, only a few minutes away from the dense woods where Dixon had tricked me into thinking he’d shot Max. I couldn’t help but wish this was a trick, too.
Max took my hands. I knew my face was betraying me, but the words just kept playing in my mind. Bomb squad. Bomb squad. Bomb. His eyes softened.
“You’re scared,” he said, and I burst into tears. He pulled me into a
hug. “Oh Shirley, it’s okay…”
It wasn’t okay. Bomb squad was so goddamn far from okay it was like nothing could ever be okay again. I tried to tell him but I couldn’t say it, couldn’t get the words out. There was an iron grip around my throat, razors in my lungs, tremors rippling down my legs until I couldn’t stand anymore, until I had to sit down, panicking, panicking, unable to think, to stop it. I couldn’t stop it.
Then Max was in front of me, his hand beneath my chin. “Shirley, look at me, sweetheart. Look at me.” His face was calm and reassuring, a cool oasis in the middle of hell. “Let’s take a deep breath, okay? Together. In and out. Good. Again. In and out. Good, sweetheart. Again.”
I was out of practice, and it took longer than it should have to get back in control. Max sat next to me in the middle of the path, thin sunshine weaving through the canopy of trees and catching on the side of his face. His thumb skimmed the back of my neck.
“Talk to me, sweetheart.”
“Your shoelace is undone,” I whispered. “You have to—you have to tie it.”
Max glanced down at the laces drooping on the ground, then up at me in confusion. “Okay, Shirley, I can tie it.”
He reached for the laces but I took them first. Row by row I pulled them tight, looping the laces together in a double knot. I untied his other shoe and did the same thing, testing the knot, making sure it was secure. I tucked the ends into the sides of his sneakers, then pulled them out again. That wouldn’t be comfortable. I tucked them back in. To hell with comfortable, his shoes would stay on. They’d stay on.
Max covered my hands with his. “Shirley? Is there something wrong with my shoes?”
“I fixed it,” I said. “They’re better now.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t understand—”
“My dad taught me to tie my shoes.” My hands were shaking, buzzing. “First he tied them for me, but then he taught me how. He used to let me practice on him, but he doesn’t wear shoes anymore because he doesn’t have feet. You can’t wear shoes if you don’t have feet. There’s nowhere to put them.”
Max wrapped his arms around me and I cried again, about feet and shoes and bombs, why bombs? Why couldn’t he do something safer?
“In some ways it’s safer than what you do,” he told me. “They’ve got the robots and the suits and lots of protocols for safety. I’d be trained, and Briar Rose isn’t a war zone. It’s nothing like what happened to your dad.”
“It’s the same,” I whispered. “It doesn’t matter where you are or if you’re trained. Bombs explode just the same.”
“I could stop them,” he said quietly. “I could stop the bombs from exploding, stop something bad from happening instead of always cleaning up afterward. I could save people like your dad. I could make a difference.”
“You’ve always made a difference, Max,” I said tearfully. “You’re important. You’re so important to me.”
Max kissed my forehead. “You’re important to me too. That’s why I wanted to talk about this now. Bomb squad training starts in a few weeks and I’d like to go, but only if you’re all right with it.” He cupped my cheek. “I know this is hard for you, Shirley. I know I’m asking a lot. Will you at least think about it? If it’s too much then I won’t go. But it would mean a lot if you’d think about it.”
I couldn’t think about it. If I thought about it I’d say no, and Max would leave it at that. He’d nod his head graciously and hug me, thanking me, and he’d pretend it was no big deal. But he’d be miserable again, and it would be my fault. I couldn’t do that to him. I wouldn’t. So instead of thinking, I said, “Go.”
Max’s eyebrows drew together. “What?”
“Go.”
He took me by the shoulders. “Shirley, are you sure? Don’t you want to—”
I took a deep breath, a therapy breath, and when I let it out I was brave. “This is what you want? To be on bomb squad?”
“Yes,” he said, a nervous smile growing on his face. “Yes, I really do.”
I managed a smile too. “Then you’d better go to training.”
Max laughed, a bright, giddy noise that burst something inside me, and God, I was crying again. He hugged me tightly, desperately, babbling gratitude. I knew right then that I could handle it. I’d do whatever it took to see him happy.
“Thank you,” he was saying. “Oh my God… I don’t know what to say. You’re amazing, Shirley, you’re… oh my God, I just don’t even know what to say.”
I dried my eyes before leaning back to face him. “You can promise me something, Max. I need you to promise me something.”
He was beaming with excitement, practically radiant. “Anything,” he said earnestly. “Whatever you need.”
“Promise me you’ll work hard, and you’ll be good at it, and you’ll be safe. Promise me you’ll be safe.”
He smiled as he kissed me, sweet and gentle. “Always, Shirley. I promise.”
2010
January
MAX SWOOPED into the living room with a happy sigh, draping himself across the couch and, incidentally, me. I put down my book.
“Hi, Max.”
He wormed his hands behind my back and laid his cheek on my chest. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Good first day, I take it?”
“It was great, Shirley, it was so great. Everyone’s so friendly, and really encouraging. Gareth helped me with the software for the new robot, and I practiced reconstructing with old pipe bombs. Diffused, of course,” he added quickly. “Totally safe.”
“You mean the police department doesn’t leave live explosives lying around?”
“Of course not!” he said, shocked.
I kissed the top of his head. “What else did you do?”
“Actually that was pretty much it, but Amir showed me some pictures at lunch. He’s got a new baby boy, only two weeks old, and God, is he adorable. He had this little blue cap on and these tiny booties, and his nose was all scrunched up like he was about to sneeze. Amir is crazy about him.”
Max grew quiet, his arms drawing tighter around me. “Shirley, I’ve been thinking again.”
“Did you stop thinking?”
“Well… no, actually. No. But it was hard for me for a while so I didn’t think it was the right time, but now that things are getting better I wanted to talk again. Talk about kids.”
I was sure he’d heard the stutter in my heart but he didn’t seem alarmed. I kept better control over my voice. “I thought we agreed it was too soon to think about kids.”
Max propped himself up on his elbows, frowning at me. “Sweetheart, that was more than a year ago. Have you thought about it at all?”
“Of course I have,” I said quickly, and it wasn’t a lie. “I think… I think three would be good. It’s just that this isn’t the right time to plan a family, Max. You’ve just started a new job, and this apartment would be too small if we… if there was more than just us. We’d need a bigger place.”
Max nodded slowly. “A house.”
“A house,” I echoed, nearly melting in relief. It would take time to save for a house. “Let’s wait until you’re really settled in at work, okay? Then we can start planning these things. We wouldn’t want to be unprepared.”
Max studied my face, and I held my breath until he nodded. “You’re right. We need to be prepared. I guess we can wait a little longer.”
He lowered his head back to my chest, and I picked up my book. “Do you want me to read to you?”
“That would be nice,” he murmured. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
I combed my fingers through his hair, words spilling off my tongue but never processing in my mind. A little longer couldn’t last very long.
2011
November
“HOW WAS your day?” Max asked, stirring a pot of chili. I spread garlic butter on slices of bread and slid the baking sheet into the oven. I began to set the table.
“Same,” I answered. “Whale’s out of town again and Paddy’s s
till sick. He mopes around the office and eats lozenges all day. He crunches them, and it’s driving Josie bananas.” I poured a glass of milk for Max and filled one with water for me. “What about you? Anything exciting?”
Max stared down into the chili and shrugged. “Oh, nothing. Well, not nothing, but nothing, you know… nothing special.”
“Nothing special?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Nothing even a little bit interesting?”
His cheeks pinked. “No, not really.”
I took a bag of salad from the fridge and dumped it in a bowl. “That’s funny, because I heard a rumor.”
“A rumor?” Max squeaked. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, I didn’t hear—”
“Rumor is bomb squad had a visitor from City Hall today. Apparently someone was being congratulated for his work on the letter bomb case.”
Max bit his lip, the wooden spoon banging against the pot as he dragged it back and forth, back and forth.
I said, “I also heard he did such a good job reconstructing the warehouse fire that arrests have been made and charges laid.”
Max stirred the chili furiously.
I folded my arms around him from behind, smiling as he jumped. “And,” I whispered, “I heard that he’s been keeping a big secret from his wife.”
Max dropped the spoon with a clatter and whirled around, his eyes wide. “Are you mad?”
“Mad about what? It’s just a rumor.”
I slid my hands beneath his shirt, tracing the flat plane of his stomach, following the downward slope of his hips. “Of course, if the rumor was true there might be cause for celebration…”
He blurted, “I’m being promoted.”
I teased my fingers lower. “You sure you’re not just saying that?”
Max’s neck flushed with heat and he clutched at the counter. “I wanted… I was going to surprise you at the ceremony…”
I laughed. “You thought you could keep this secret until the ceremony?”
Max groaned. I unbuttoned his jeans. “I’m going to take your clothes off now, unless you want to wait for—”