Free Sacrifice Fly by Tim O'Mara Page A

“Lisa told me you used to be a cop.”
    “What’s that got to do with anything?”
    “I know how you all think. Think just because my lips’re moving, I’m lying.”
    “You have a lot of experience with cops, Mr. King?”
    “Give me that bullshit. I grew up in this neighborhood. I was getting rousted by the
     cops when you was still playing Little League with all your little friends out in
     the ’burbs. Yeah, Mr. Donne, I got plenty experience being looked at like I’m lying.
     But you ain’t no cop anymore.” He slid his chair gently under the table. “So I guess
     I’ll be going now.”
    “Lisa got that bruise from somewhere, Mr. King,” I said again.
    He stopped and then turned back.
    “I know what you people say,” he said. “Folks don’t change. Some asshole hits his
     wife once, well, he’s just gonna keep on hitting her.” He took a breath. “I did hit
     my wife. Once.” A small smile crept onto his face. “You don’t do nothing hurtful to
     that woman twice. She threw my ass out and told me not come back. Ever. And she meant
     it.”
    I stood, the safety of ten feet and the table between us, my heart still beating a
     bit too fast.
    “What’s your point, Mr. King?”
    “You know why people don’t change?”
    “Tell me.”
    “’Cause they ain’t got no reason to. Plain and simple. They ain’t got no reason.”
     He slapped his hand against his chest. “That’s what makes me different. I got a reason.
     And I’m changing.” He stopped for a few seconds, deciding whether to keep the conversation
     going. “After a few months outta the house, I called my wife. Said, ‘What’s it gonna
     take? You let me back home?’ And she told me.” He held out his thumb. “‘Stop drinking.’
     I said I could do that.” He extended his forefinger. “‘Get some counseling.’ I’m doing
     that.” The middle finger. “‘You don’t never raise a hand to me again.’ I said I could
     do that, and I’m keeping that promise. I am keeping that promise.” He turned the fingers
     into a fist and placed it over his heart. “That woman and those girls? That’s my reason
     to change. I almost lost them once, and that’s not gonna happen again.” He filled
     his chest up with air and let it out slowly. “You can either believe that or not.
     That’s up to you all.”
    We stood there, looking at each other. I was waiting to see if he’d leave, now that
     he’d had his say. He was waiting for me to challenge what he said.
    “I didn’t call you in here to cause you grief or bring any more trouble into your
     house, Mr. King. But my first responsibility here is to Lisa.”
    He nodded. “Mine, too. I’ll find out where she got that bruise and…”
    “And what?”
    He shook his head. “I don’t know. Yet. But I will protect me and mine.”
    “You understand we’re required by law to call in any suspicion of abuse.”
    “Figured you’da done that by now.”
    “I wanted to talk to you first.”
    That seemed to surprise him. “And what’d you decide?”
    Good question. You gave a good speech, I thought. But, like you said, I’m used to
     people lying to me.
    “We’ll let you know,” I said.
    “You do that,” he said and headed toward the door just as Elaine Stiles was coming
     in. It took her a moment to realize who he was.
    “Oh, Mr. King,” she said. “I thought I had missed you.”
    “You did,” he said as he slipped past her and out of my room.
    From the doorway, Elaine gave me a questioning look.
    “That went well,” I said.
    She stepped over to the table. “What happened?”
    I went over the conversation with her. How I started with Lisa’s grades and ended
     with asking about the bruise above her eye.
    “Ray,” she said when I was done, “did you talk to him as a teacher?”
    “As opposed to what?”
    “The cop thing you do.”
    “What cop thing?”
    She shook her head. “You squint your eyes just a touch and lean forward. Then you
     lower your voice