by Connie Cox
“I love my family, but I have to admit we have our faults. We don’t put the fun in dysfunctional. We’re not typical, I guess.” Mark gave her sympathy even though he couldn’t understand how a person could live with a drug addict and not realize it.
“We had thought we were unique, the only family in the world drug addiction had ever happened to. But we are typical. Denial happens in most families. But it only makes coming back from the brink a harder and longer process.”
“Did Ricky inspire you to go into the field of substance-abuse treatment?”
She shook her head. “It was my husband, many years before we married. I had just graduated high school and was trying to find a job when I met Chuck. He was a beat cop in my neighborhood, older than me by eight years but I looked older. He looked younger. And in the end age made no difference.
“He saw everyone as humans, individuals, no matter what shape they were in. My best friend in high school, a girl with a brilliant future in front of her, got hooked on meth. Instead of treating her like trash, Chuck treated her like a girl with a problem. He must have had her taken to the hospital at least three dozen times before she finally overdosed and couldn’t be saved.
“He held me when I cried. Told me I could make a difference. Taught me about financial aid and scholarships and helped me enroll in college. I had never even considered going to college before that. I didn’t know anyone who had.”
Even knowing he had no right, Mark felt both gratitude and jealousy toward this paragon. How could he compete with the memory of a dead man?
“Why did you quit medicine? When you talk about treating families, I can see the passion in your eyes.”
The waiter brought their order of baklava to the table, interrupting the moment.
Eva sat back and picked up a piece of baklava. “This isn’t really the way I intended this conversation to go.”
She took a bite and gave a moan any man would want to wring from her lips.
Mark promised himself he would do everything in his power to bring that kind of ecstasy to her eyes. “Good, huh?”
“Absolutely.” She picked up a piece and held it to his lips. “Try it.”
If it had been the apple from Eden, Mark wasn’t sure he could have resisted.
Her fingertips against his mouth sent a rush through his system, speeding it up, making it pump, making him restless for her.
“Good?”
He wrested his focus back to the rich sweetness in his mouth. “Yes. Absolutely,” he said, repeating her word.
The baklava was as good as he remembered it. The dating game was even better than he remembered it.
“Hmm...” Eva licked the stickiness from her lips.
Mark watched, entranced, as the tip of her tongue swept across her lip. It was like the basketball game all over again.
“Good?” he asked, wanting to hear her voice.
“Very.” The huskiness in her tone exceeded his expectations.
He hoped to hear it tonight and maybe in the morning, too.
That’s when he remembered how much had changed since the last time he’d dated. Then he’d had an apartment all to himself. Now he had a teenager living under his roof. It would have to be Eva’s place tonight and morning sex would be out.
Raising this kid really cramped his style.
As if he’d conjured up Aaron with his thoughts, his phone buzzed, showing his nephew’s cellphone number.
“Uncle Mark?” Aaron’s voice quivered. He sounded young. Scared.
The controlled calm that came over him in emergencies settled into Mark’s mind. “Yes, Aaron?”
“Uh, I’m at the police station and they said I could call you.”
“You’re where?” Mark asked, even though he’d heard it clearly the first time. This was not the type of emergency he was prepared to handle. How had his sister done it that first time she’d received a call like this?
“Dr. O’Donnell, this is Officer Stack. This is a courtesy call. Your nephew was stopped for driving erratically. He is being charged with driving under a suspended license, resisting an officer and violating the terms of his probation. We have your nephew at the Fifth Precinct annex. We are about to book him and send him to a juvenile facility. Would you like to come down and talk to him first?”
“Yes. I’ll be right there.”
Mark hung up the phone and blinked for a split second, forgetting where he was and who he was with. Now the enormity of the situation came crashing down on him.
“Mark, what’s wrong?”
“I’ve got to go.”
“Okay. I guess I can call a taxi.”
“No, I’ll...” Mark looked up as if the ceiling tiles held all the answers. “Where is the Fifth Precinct annex?”
“In my neighborhood.”
Mark was surprised at the address she gave him. The rough part of town. What was Aaron doing there?
Later, he would think about why Eva still lived there. If there was a later for them after this. Most likely she would drop him like a hot stone when she found out about his family troubles. He couldn’t blame her. Who wanted to be associated with his kind of problems?
“Is it Aaron?” Eva pushed back her chair and put her purse strap over her shoulder.
Numbly, Mark nodded.
“Let’s go, then. I can give you a few shortcuts through the streets.”
“Those are not streets I’d want to cut through with you in the truck. That’s not the safest part of town.”
“That part of town is my home. Where I grew up. Where I live. Where my brother lives.” She gave him a twisted smile. “Come on, big boy. I’ll protect you.”
Her humor fell flat. But she had already taken the lead, heading out of the restaurant in front of him.
Throwing enough bills on the table to cover their meal, he followed her.
He helped her into the truck then drove as if on autopilot towards the precinct.
At one red light a group of teens on bikes crowded the truck. Before he could stop her, Eva rolled down her window.
“Get out of the street before you get hit.” She raised her hand against the glare of the streetlight. “Maria Rosita, is that you? Just wait until I tell your father you were out this late.”
The kids scattered before the light turned green.
“Maria’s father works the night shift. He will ground her for a month when he finds out she was out tonight.”
Absently, Mark responded, “You’re going to tell him?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t you want someone to tell you if your teenager was out so late without permission?”
“You mean, someone other than the police? Yes, I guess I would.”
Mark thought of the time the neighbor had called his mother about him climbing out his girlfriend’s upstairs window when he was fourteen. She had railed about busybodies for hours and had then had the woman kicked out of the Junior League and had never spoken to her again.
Chances were Maria Rosita’s father didn’t know anyone in the Junior League. And, yes, now that he was in the parental role, he could see where he might appreciate a warning call even though it would be a very uncomfortable conversation.
Once at the station Mark didn’t know what to do with Eva.
It turned out that he didn’t need to do anything. As soon as he put the truck into park, she was out and heading for the front doors.
He hurried his stride to catch up with her.
The guard at the door nodded to them both as they went through the security scanner.
“It’s been a while, Doc,” he said to Eva.
“Yes, it has, Henry.”
Even though Mark wanted to know more, now was not the time to stop and ask questions.
The flu
orescent lights cast the same harsh light over everything and everyone in the precinct annex as they did in the emergency department.
Clarity. In-your-face reality. No shadows to obscure problems that needed to be addressed.
The atmosphere was familiar to Mark, but the procedures were not. Here, surrounded by professionals in dark uniforms and holstered guns instead of scrubs and stethoscopes, he felt like a victim instead of a rescuer.
His ex-wife stood at the reception desk. She was dressed in some kind of black silky dress that showed off her cleavage and mile-high shoes that showed off her legs.
She had her lawyer face on, the face that would win national poker tournaments if she were to lower herself to participate in such a plebian activity.
She greeted him with, “He’s fine.”
“Why are you here?” All his worry and frustration came out in his question.
“Aaron called me.”
“I can handle this.”
“I’ve known Aaron from the day he was born. We might not be husband and wife any more, but he will always be my nephew despite that piece of paper between you and me. Let me help.”
Mark was acutely aware of Eva by his side, witnessing this whole exchange.
The desk clerk stared at him until he gave her his attention. “Sir, I understand you’re Aaron Cunningham’s legal guardian. Would you like to go back and see your nephew?”
“Yes, please.”
Eva watched him go, her heart going with him.
The woman held out her hand. “Tiffany Spears, Mark’s ex-wife.”
Eva accepted the firm handshake. “Eva Veracruz.”
Tiffany nodded. “I’ve seen you testify in court before. Substance-abuse expert, right?”
Eva nodded. It had been a while since she’d considered herself an expert, though.
Eva could see the change in Tiffany’s eyes as she remembered where else she’d seen Eva.
“I’m sorry about your husband.”
“Thank you.” She looked Tiffany in the eyes. “And it’s long overdue, but also thank you for handling the case so well.”
“Killers should be taken out of society, especially cop killers.” Tiffany glanced at her buzzing phone. “Excuse me, please.”
Eva took a seat on one of the hard plastic chairs where she could see Mark when he came back from his visit with Aaron.
Her eyes skimmed over the posters on the walls warning against shoplifting or illegal gun possession or a half-dozen other crimes. She’d sat here plenty of times before, waiting for Chuck to end his shift, waiting to drive him home, knowing he’d had a long heart-breaking day. Waiting to give comfort where she could.
And now she waited on Mark for the same reason.
Tiffany seated herself next to Eva.
“Been dating long?”
Eva tensed, not sure where this was going. “No. We’re co-workers.” Not feeling truthful about that not-quite-right answer, she followed with, “Tonight’s our first real date.”
“Mark’s a great guy.” Tiffany bit her lip, a gesture that looked out of place with her confident persona. “It was completely my fault.”
“There’s no such thing.” Eva gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ve done enough counseling to know that—and I was married enough years to know that, too.”
Tiffany waved away Eva’s reasoning. “Mark was and still is all about family. He’s the glue that holds his mother and sister together. I wanted to be first in his life. I couldn’t share. So I found someone else, except it didn’t work out.”
“I really don’t need to know this.”
“The way he looks at you, and the way you look back at him, there’s something between the two of you.”
“Maybe there will be, but not right now.” As Eva said it, it sounded false. The sparks they shared weren’t glimmers of the future. They were full-blown electric shocks happening right now.
That’s why she could tell, simply from the footfalls in the hallway, that Mark was approaching them.
As soon as he rounded the corner, his face pale and drained, she stood and forced an encouraging smile for him.
Tiffany watched him with guarded eyes, glanced at Eva, then put her phone away.
When Mark spotted Eva, he walked towards her like a man dying of thirst walking toward a dry river bed.
His eyes were bleak, hopeless, but wishing for a miracle.
Without thought, she opened her arms to him and he moved in for her embrace.
As Tiffany walked towards them, he pushed himself away.
“Would he talk to you?” she asked.
“Yes.” Mark rubbed his hand through his hair. “He just doesn’t get it. He thinks this is no big deal and he’s being unfairly persecuted.”
Tiffany let out a sigh. “Do you want me to represent him? You have to tell me that officially.”
What would have seemed an obvious yes to Eva gave Mark pause. He seemed to be fixated on a poster of a young man being led away in handcuffs for vehicular homicide. It read, “Barely buzzed is still drunk.”
“Mark?” Tiffany put her hand towards him then dropped it.
“Yes.” He looked at her, his eyes brimming with tears. “Yes, I’ll hire you to represent him.”
“We’ll talk about the hiring part later,” she said. “In anticipation, I’ve made some calls. They’ll keep him overnight in juvenile detention and tomorrow you can take him home on your own recognizance.”
Mark’s eyes hardened. “I want to take him home tonight.”
“This is his second offense.” Tiffany took a breath. “You won’t like to hear this, but Aaron’s so hard-headed that a night locked up might be a good lesson in taking responsibility for his actions.”
“Tough love, Tiffany? What about family loyalty? That one’s not as high on your list, is it?”
Tiffany clenched her mouth tight. “That’s the best I can do for Aaron tonight. You can pick him up between ten and ten-thirty tomorrow morning.”
Mark paced off to stare out the glass doors into the black night.
Tiffany reached into her purse and handed Eva her card. “I know he’s hurting. I’m glad he’s got you to take care of him. I wish I could have but it’s just not in me.”
Eva could tell Tiffany was hurting, too. She tried to reassure her. “We all have our own talents. Mark and Aaron will definitely need yours in the coming days.”
“I’ll be there for them as much as I can be.” Tiffany stared at Mark’s back with sad resignation. “Different people fit together differently.”
How did she and Mark fit together? Well, so far. But, then, their relationship hadn’t been tested.
They hadn’t even called what they had between them a relationship.
Tiffany walked toward the doors, putting her hand on Mark’s shoulder as she walked past him. “Take care of yourself, Mark. And take good care of Eva, too. She’s been through a lot.”
Absently, Mark nodded. Taking care of people was what he did. Two patrol officers brushed past him as they entered the building, their faces grim.
He was very ready to get out of this place yet strongly reluctant to leave without his nephew. But he had to take care of Eva. He had to get her out of there.
A yell from the hallway startled them all.
“Help. He’s seizing.”
Mark took off at a run with Eva right behind them.
Mark’s first thought was one of relief. The boy wasn’t Aaron.
His next was to help.
But Eva was already on her knees next to the boy, who couldn’t have been over sixteen. He lay curled in a fetal position, shaking so hard his body looked blurred.
The boy prised his eyes open, took one look at Mark and the officers surrounding him
and seem to shrink even further in on himself.
Mark knelt down on the boy’s other side and checked his pupils. “He’s responding to light.”
“History?”
The officer shook his head sadly. “He lives on the streets. We bring him in a lot, but he’s never done this before.”
“What do you bring him in for?”
“Usually drunk and disorderly. He begs for money on street corners and the local businesses don’t like it.”
She smelled his breath. No alcohol. “How long has he been locked up?”
“Since late last night. We’re trying to keep him as long as we can so we can get a few meals in him before he’s brought before a judge, fined and returned to his father. Then he’ll run away and we’ll see him back in here within the week sporting new bruises on top of the old ones. Same old cycle over and over with this kid.”
“Not seizing. He’s got D.T.s.” Eva laid her hand on his head, gently brushing his hair off his face. The boy moaned softly, turning his face into her hand like a wounded animal needing reassurance.
“We’re going to take care of you,” she said softly. “You’ve called the paramedics, right?” she asked the officer in the same soothing voice.
When he nodded, she asked, “Can we get a couple of blankets?”
The desk office rushed to get the requested blankets.
Eva cushioned the boy’s head with one and covered his body with the other.
Feeling helpless, Mark sat back on his heels. There was nothing else to do for the boy. If he were in the E.R. the boy would have already been shipped off to a ward.
But Eva kept patting the boy, rubbing his shoulder, talking quietly, giving him what he needed.
“I’m a doctor,” she told him. “And I know how to take care of you. You’re going to a detox facility. Have you ever been to one before?”
The boy managed to shake his head despite his trembling.
“They’re going to teach you how to get well.”
The boy looked up at her with so much hope that Mark felt himself tear up.