Michael said, “It’s just this little thing I’m having on the side, is all. It’ll wear itself out.”
“That’s what you said four months ago.”
His face hardened. His taint was to be amiable, kid you away from serious talk. But since that hadn’t worked, he coasted for a while on irritation that would soon become real anger if he wasn’t careful. “Look, I admit I screwed up my life back there when I first left home. I gambled, I did some drugs, I married the wrong woman, I couldn’t hold a job — and I let you take over my life the same way you did when I was a kid. And that really helped, Chet. And I’m really grateful for it. I mean, how could I not be? You found my second wife for me, you got me on the force, and you managed to find a bank that would give me a mortgage even with my credit rating.” He put both of his hands on my shoulders. He was three inches taller than I was. “I owe you everything, Chet. Everything. But this time—” He shook his head. Then he shot me the Michael grin again. “This time it isn’t any of your business. All right? I know what I’m doing. I’m not going to hurt Laura or the kids. That I promise. But I’m in this thing and I just have to play it out is all.” His hands shook my shoulders with mock fondness — mock because he was sick of me trying to drag him away from the affair he was having. The affair that had put him right back into gambling, drinking too much, even getting into a few fights. Fights can get you kicked off the force.
He took his hands down. “So can we leave it like that, Chet? Please? I’ll handle it, everything’ll be cool, and we’ll get together at Jen’s birthday party a couple weeks from now and everything’ll be fine. All right?”
He walked away before I could say anything, got in his car, and drove off. I hadn’t known until that moment that he’d bought himself a new Pontiac GTO. I didn’t know another uniformed officer who could afford a new GTO and have any money left over for the wife and kids.
The call came a few months later. Laura, Michael’s wife.
“I’m sure you’re watching the football game,” she said. I’d met her years ago at a grade school. I had been there to tell the kids about being a policeman. Laura was a slender, dark-haired young woman with a very pretty face spoiled only by a quick, nervous smile that revealed the stress she always seemed to feel. This was at the time when Michael had neared the height of his problems — no job, into some gamblers for several thousand dollars, and drinking way more than he should have been. Laura herself was just getting through a divorce, a husband who’d run around on her. Neither of them wanted to meet the other, but I stage-mothered the relationship until it found its own way.
“Actually, no. Jen’s volunteering at the hospital tonight, so I’m here with the kids. I just cattle-prodded them into bed, in fact.”
A strained laugh. “They’re just like ours. They hate going to bed.” Then: “Could we talk a little, Chet?”
“Sure. That’s what brothers-in-law are for.”
So this was to be the night. I knew that it would happen and that when it did a whole lot of things would change. I thought of what Dad had told me the night he’d drunkenly admitted he’d been such a terrible husband: that I was to keep Michael from repeating his mistakes. I wondered how much Laura knew. I was about to find out.
“I don’t think Michael loves me anymore.”
“Oh, come on. You know better than that.”
“He used to come straight home after work. He’d only hang out at that cop bar once a week. But now — three or four nights a week he doesn’t get home until three in the morning. And he hasn’t had much to drink. That’s what makes me suspicious.”
“I guess I’m not following you there.”
“Well, he always tells me he’s just at the bar with the boys. Well, first of all, the bar closes at two, and it’s only about a mile away. It sure doesn’t take him that long to drive home. But even worse than that — he’s never drunk.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it, that he’s cut back on his drinking?” I tried to put a smile into it.
“But I know him well enough to know that if he was at that bar, he’d be drunk when he came home.” Cop wives always say “that bar” when referring to the Golden Chalice. They hate it because they know all about the cop groupies who hang out there.
She said: “Would you talk to him, Chet?”
“I’d be happy to. But you know how he resents me sometimes.”
“You know how I feel about that. And I’ve told him so. You were in a situation where you were forced to be his father. You had to give up a lot of things other boys your age got to do — and all for his sake. I always tell him that.”
“I appreciate it, Laura. But that doesn’t mean he’ll be any happier if I butt into your marriage.”
A long pause: “Then how about a little spying?”
“Spying?”
“Just seeing what he’s up to after your shift ends. Where he goes and things like that.” This time her laugh was real but sad. “I know this is awful. I’d sure resent it if somebody spied on me. But our marriage — it hasn’t been any good for quite a while.”
For a moment I was back in the parking lot and Michael was explaining to me, as if I were slightly retarded, how everything was under control. He had his mistress and he had his family, and according to him, he was doing well by both of them.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have called, Chet. I’m just so—”
She started crying. I let her get through the worst of it. Michael was doing it all over again. He’d lost a first wife who’d been every bit the player he was. But this woman was different. Only through her had he finally put his life on track. And now he was turning away from her.
“I’m sorry, Chet.” The tears became sniffles. “I just feel so isolated, I guess. I’m sorry I called.”
“Tell you what. I’m going to do a little looking around. I’ll be back to you in a day or so.”
“I’m sorry I’m so needy, Chet.”
“I’m needy, too. I want to find out what’s going on. We’ve both got a stake in this, Laura, believe me.” I made a joke of it before hanging up: “I didn’t spend all those years raising him so he’d act this way.”
2.
Three A.M. Sitting in my boxers. Staring at the glow of the guttering fire we’d set to chase the autumn cold away.
I heard Jen coming down the stairs, her slippers flapping with each step. When she reached the living room, I said, “Leave the lights off, please.”
She came over, the hem of her long cotton robe whispering across the hardwood floor. She sat on her haunches next to my armchair. Bare branches scraped the windows in the whistling wind. Shadow goblins played on the walls.
“So what seems to be troubling our baby boy tonight?”
“Sometimes I wish I were a baby boy.” Then: “Michael. Of course.”
She touched my wide coarse hand with her long smooth one. “Now I’m going out to the kitchen and get that.45 you taught me how to shoot. And then I’m going to come back and kill one of us. And at this point I really don’t care which one of us it is. Because if I ever hear that you’re brooding about him again—”
“He’s my brother.”
“Oh yes, and you swore to your father you’d raise him right.”
“Don’t make fun of that. I gave him my word.”
“Yes, and that was the right thing to do. When Michael was still a boy. But he’s almost thirty now. He has a wife and two children. You got him a job, you found him a wife, and you’ve been playing daddy to him right straight through. It’s not right, honey. Or normal.”