did—by keeping the bad stuff at arm's length, boxing it up in process and order, putting distance between himself and emotion. You couldn't do it any other way and survive the job. The bad stuff just kept coming, year in, year out, while he waded through an endless sewer pipe, trying to carry the good people on his shoulder like St. Christopher.
Not that he'd ever felt saintly. Now, with things going to hell with Chris, he felt even less so. He should have heeded that voice in his head that said alone was the only way to go. He'd just been so damned tired of being alone, and Chris lit him up. She made him feel alive and hopeful, like it was possible to have a life and do the job. Like some hungry old bear, he had wandered out of hibernation and there she was. She'd put some balance in his life. Now it seemed like she was bent on undoing all that.
Sure, there had been strains before. Sometimes she got frustrated with the way his job controlled his life, with the calls and the hours, the danger and the canceled plans. But it seemed like they were working through that, that she'd accepted the nature of his job and been okay with it. Until this week.
Four days ago, over a pleasant dinner and recap of their days, she suddenly set down her fork, and said, "Joe, there's something we need to talk about. I know it'll be kind of a shock for you. It will seem too early in our relationship." She'd smiled her knowing smile. "Changing you is like turning a supertanker, Joe. So you're going to think I'm pushing too hard or wanting too much too soon. But I've been thinking about this for a while, and I don't think I can wait much longer..." She'd tilted her head back and forth, mocking herself the way she did. "You're going to think I'm out of my mind."
He set down his fork, too, his stomach tightening. She looked so serious. Older and more tired, too, as though coming to this decision had aged her. He was usually pretty good at anticipating, but he had no idea what was coming.
She picked up her fork again, pushed some shreds of chicken like a mop through the gravy on her plate, and set the fork down again without eating. "Joe, I want to adopt Neddy and Nina. I'm afraid if I wait, they'll have been placed... or at least, Neddy will. I can't imagine many families will be eager to take Nina... and he'll have gotten settled someplace. Nina needs stability." A pause, a deep breath. "And she needs to be with Neddy."
Not "We should adopt Neddy and Nina," he noticed. She had said "I." She also hadn't asked for his opinion, probably because she already knew what he'd say. She'd gone on, ignoring his stunned silence, mentioning the attic as a third bedroom. How much fun she and Nina would have making the guest room into a girl's room. How much the children needed a stable and permanent family and her mother would be able to help. He had let her talk on without interrupting because he couldn't think of a single positive thing to say.
It had been a huge challenge for him to allow one person into his life after spending so much of it as a solitary creature. She knew that. He was learning to make the adjustments that went with their living arrangement—curbing his temper, learning to be patient, explaining his comings and goings instead of simply doing whatever he thought needed doing. He tried not to be impatient when she questioned the demands of his job, when she asked where he was going or when to expect him home.
He was learning to share his bed and his dark dreams; figuring out how much he could tell her about the ugliness that papered the inside of his head. He was coming to understand why so many cop marriages failed. How hard it was to balance the instinct to protect and the necessary practice of boxing up feelings with the need for sharing and intimacy. Hard to change habits decades in the making. He felt their situation was hopeful, yet still fragile and precarious.
And now this. He certainly wasn't ready to bring more players into
Not that he'd ever felt saintly. Now, with things going to hell with Chris, he felt even less so. He should have heeded that voice in his head that said alone was the only way to go. He'd just been so damned tired of being alone, and Chris lit him up. She made him feel alive and hopeful, like it was possible to have a life and do the job. Like some hungry old bear, he had wandered out of hibernation and there she was. She'd put some balance in his life. Now it seemed like she was bent on undoing all that.
Sure, there had been strains before. Sometimes she got frustrated with the way his job controlled his life, with the calls and the hours, the danger and the canceled plans. But it seemed like they were working through that, that she'd accepted the nature of his job and been okay with it. Until this week.
Four days ago, over a pleasant dinner and recap of their days, she suddenly set down her fork, and said, "Joe, there's something we need to talk about. I know it'll be kind of a shock for you. It will seem too early in our relationship." She'd smiled her knowing smile. "Changing you is like turning a supertanker, Joe. So you're going to think I'm pushing too hard or wanting too much too soon. But I've been thinking about this for a while, and I don't think I can wait much longer..." She'd tilted her head back and forth, mocking herself the way she did. "You're going to think I'm out of my mind."
He set down his fork, too, his stomach tightening. She looked so serious. Older and more tired, too, as though coming to this decision had aged her. He was usually pretty good at anticipating, but he had no idea what was coming.
She picked up her fork again, pushed some shreds of chicken like a mop through the gravy on her plate, and set the fork down again without eating. "Joe, I want to adopt Neddy and Nina. I'm afraid if I wait, they'll have been placed... or at least, Neddy will. I can't imagine many families will be eager to take Nina... and he'll have gotten settled someplace. Nina needs stability." A pause, a deep breath. "And she needs to be with Neddy."
Not "We should adopt Neddy and Nina," he noticed. She had said "I." She also hadn't asked for his opinion, probably because she already knew what he'd say. She'd gone on, ignoring his stunned silence, mentioning the attic as a third bedroom. How much fun she and Nina would have making the guest room into a girl's room. How much the children needed a stable and permanent family and her mother would be able to help. He had let her talk on without interrupting because he couldn't think of a single positive thing to say.
It had been a huge challenge for him to allow one person into his life after spending so much of it as a solitary creature. She knew that. He was learning to make the adjustments that went with their living arrangement—curbing his temper, learning to be patient, explaining his comings and goings instead of simply doing whatever he thought needed doing. He tried not to be impatient when she questioned the demands of his job, when she asked where he was going or when to expect him home.
He was learning to share his bed and his dark dreams; figuring out how much he could tell her about the ugliness that papered the inside of his head. He was coming to understand why so many cop marriages failed. How hard it was to balance the instinct to protect and the necessary practice of boxing up feelings with the need for sharing and intimacy. Hard to change habits decades in the making. He felt their situation was hopeful, yet still fragile and precarious.
And now this. He certainly wasn't ready to bring more players into
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