She pushed him off and hunched up, clasped her hands together. He had to lean further forward to hear her. ‘There’s nothing to say, Mike.’
He got up and paced the kitchen. ‘What do you mean, nothing to say?’ He wanted to slap her. ‘You were drunk on duty and you’re telling me that you have nothing to say about that?’
She gave a soft laugh. ‘No complaints.’
He gripped her hair and drew her head back. ‘You killed a boy, Lorraine.’ She made no effort to release herself and he shoved her forwards, disgusted. ‘You shot him.’
She nodded.
It was impossible for Mike to know what she was thinking; her eyes were glazed, and she seemed to be half smiling.
‘You’re out, don’t you understand? You’re out of the force. They’ve kicked you out! Rooney told me they took your badge.’
She shrugged again. ‘Well, that’ll make you happy, I’ll get some nail extensions and some Carmen rollers and make myself into a Tina clone. That what you want, Mike? Is that what you want?’ Her face was ugly with rage. She had no shame — and worse, no remorse.
‘Go to bed, Lorraine.’
She stumbled against the doorframe, and fell face down on the bed. Mike didn’t bother to undress her. He was almost out of the room when she said something, muffled by the pillows. She was repeating it, over and over. ‘I don’t remember, I don’t remember, he’s dead, he’s dead.’
Mike never heard the plaintively whispered, ‘Don’t go.’ Instead, he sat in his study until dawn, compiling notes for his case.
The next morning, glass of whisky in her hand, Lorraine sat at the kitchen table. Nothing meant anything any more.
Mike joined her and sat opposite. She held up the glass. ‘Hair of the dog.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘You mean work?’ she asked.
‘No. Will you be on trial or what?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I blame Lubrinski. You’ve not been the same since you started working alongside him.’
‘Lubrinski’s dead, for chrissakes.’
Mike watched as she refilled her glass. Suddenly he sprang to his feet and yanked away the bottle. ‘That’s enough.’
She held out the glass like a dirty diaper. He snatched it. ‘It’s nine thirty in the morning. How long has this been going on?’
‘What going on, Mike?’
Holding the bottle, he almost felt in need of a drink himself.
‘I just wanted something to ease me up a bit. I’ve been kind of tense lately.’
He was speechless.
‘I don’t have a problem, Mike. It’s just... lately things have got to me.’
He felt as if someone had punched the air out of his lungs. Lorraine looked at her bare feet. ‘I feel all strung out and I can’t remember what happened the other night.’
He swallowed. ‘You killed a kid, Lorraine. They’ve taken your badge, you’re out, don’t you understand?’
‘Oh.’ She said it lightly, still staring at her feet.
‘I’m gonna talk to Rooney again. I don’t know if they’re pressing charges.’
‘Have you talked to Rooney, then?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ he snapped. ‘I told you last night. How the hell do you think I know about it? And what do you think Donny is gonna say about this if it gets into the press?’
‘Donny?’ she said, confused. ‘What’s he got to do with me?’
‘He’s got a lot to do with me. I’m in the middle of a big case right now. How do you think it’s gonna look if they find out my wife not only opened fire on a kid but was drunk on duty as well?’
She rubbed at her neck. ‘It’s none of their business.’
Mike closed his eyes. ‘No? You think the press won’t have a field day with this?’
She took out a cigarette, hands shaking. He watched as she tried to light it. She inhaled deeply. ‘You remember that day, Mike?’ He sighed. She looked at him, tilting her head to one side. ‘Best day of my life. You’d just qualified and... what happened, Mike? I feel like I don’t know you, like I’m drifting in some kind of sea. I hate what you’re becoming and I’ve gone along with it, never felt I could say anything to you but it’s all changing between us. You want success more than you want me.’
Mike poured himself two fingers in the tumbler she had used and drained it. It was as if someone was pulling the rug from beneath his feet. Suddenly everything he had been striving for was ragged at the edge. He sat down, cradling the glass in his hands. ‘Nothing has changed between you and me, nothing. I love you. I always have loved you. Okay, maybe I’ve had to put in more hours lately, but then so have you. You know I wanted you to give up work, you think I didn’t notice the strain you were under, but you’ll never talk to me.’
She knelt down at his feet and wrapped her arms around him. ‘I want things to be the way they were when we both had nothing.’
‘You had your career. It was me that had nothing,’ he said petulantly.
‘But you know why? I worked hard so we’d have a home and you’d have your chance.’
He kissed her forehead. ‘Maybe you haven’t noticed that I’m earning good money now — you haven’t needed to work for years and you’re missing the girls growing up.’ She leaned against him and he slipped his arm around her. ‘Whatever happens, we’ll come through this together.’
They went to bed and made love for the first time in ages. That evening, Lorraine began to prepare dinner, even putting candles on the table. Then it started, the panic. It swamped inside her, beginning, as always, with fast flashes of faces. Lubrinski, then Laura Bradley, and now the boy? A boy running with a yellow stripe down his sweater. All she could think of was to get just one drink; then the panic would stop and the pictures would blur into oblivion. She wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable, so trapped. Just one drink would do it and she’d be all right. She went on with the dinner, having just one more, then another and another.
Mike didn’t come home until after midnight. He saw that the table had been laid for some special occasion; the candlewax had melted over the cloth. In the kitchen he found two wine bottles and the Scotch bottle, all empty in the trashcan with the remains of dinner.
Lorraine was asleep, still in her dress. He didn’t wake her, not even to tell her that Donny had offered him a partnership. He pulled the quilt from beneath her and laid it gently over her. He went round the apartment and threw every liquor bottle he could find into the garbage chute. Not until he slid into bed next to her did he see that Lorraine was cradling the picture of Lubrinski in her arms. When he tried to take it from her she moaned and turned over. Maybe there had been a lot more to their partnership than he had realized.
Next morning, Lorraine was up early, cooking breakfast for the girls. Mike could hear her laughing and talking. By the time he went into the kitchen, they were ready for school.
‘I’ll drive them,’ she said. ‘You haven’t had breakfast yet!’
He snatched up his car keys. ‘I’ll drive them, okay?’
‘When will you be home?’
‘I’m in court today so I’ll be late.’ He walked out without kissing her goodbye, slamming the front door.
She was making the bed when he called. He’d booked her a doctor’s appointment.
‘You did what?’
‘Listen to me, sweetheart, he’s somebody you can talk to, friend of Donny’s—’
Lorraine interrupted, ‘I don’t need a god-damned shrink, especially not some asshole friend of Donny’s. There’s nothing wrong with me that a few days’ rest—’
Mike was adamant, not wanting to sound angry but unable not to. ‘Yes, you do, Lorraine, listen, don’t hang up—’