aside, we would be nothing without them.
I finished first and looked at Bellamy. I measured him with a cynical eye. It wasnât fair, but I couldnât help it. Bellamy was a solid cop, yet he didnât understand the personal, behind-the-scenes program. There were certain pressures that went along with being married which Bellamy didnât comprehend. I decided to explain myself.
âIâve been talking to Alice. Thatâs all we ever do. We talk about this bullshit. And Iâll admit it. Iâm starting to get crazy. And you know what? You ainât seen nothinâ yet. If my circumstances donât improve, I donât know whatâll happen. What other choice do I have? Iâve got to jump for what I want.â
âIf you want, I can drive,â Bellamy offered.
I leered at him in mild fury, convinced this was an issue Bellamy would never fathom. âYou know I canât let you do that,â I japed. âWhatâs the matter with you? You have a suspended driverâs license.â
Alice and I talked night after night. We knew it would take a miracle to get us out of the labyrinth we were living in. Alice had said, âI donât like Novato. All I ever see are other copsâ wives. Itâs like weâre clones. We worry for our husbands. Our little gods. We want them to come home safely to us. Iâm not saying thereâs anything wrong with it. I know itâs part of the job.â
Feeling like a ship lost at sea, Alice struggled to find the right expression. She wasnât fussy. But it had to be accurate; something that made sense.
Iâd propped up my head with the palm of my right hand and let Alice hold my left hand, so she could massage
the scar tissue where my pinkie used to be. Her fingers were cold; her face was underscored by the kitchenâs stern fluorescent lighting.
âIâm working on a plan,â I said. âIâm reading the listings in the newspapers every day to see whatâs available. Iâm chatting up property managers, landlords, and real estate agents whenever Iâm making my rounds. Iâm keeping my ear to the ground, doing what I can to pick up tips that will help us.â
Who would have thought it was going to come down to this? The expression on Aliceâs face scared me. The distress glinting in her watery green eyes wasnât anything compared to the terror I heard bubbling in her throat. I knew she was starting to question me. The power I used to have to make things different had slowed down to a snailâs pace. Nothing was moving like it used to. Hard work and conscientious thrift didnât change anything.
âWhat are you looking for?â she asked.
âOh, a house.â
âA house? Coddy, please donât get our hopes up.â
She was thirty-seven. I was ten years, six months and three weeks older than her. Desperation had never been part of our personal vocabulary, but when I saw the lines on Aliceâs face, I also saw the seeds of defeat planted in the downward curve of her mouth.
âDonât worry, sugar. This is a good plan.â
âCoddy, you know we canât afford a house. You know that.â
âDonât be so negative,â I said smartly. âThings can happen.â
âIâm not accusing you of anything, Coddy. Iâm only being practical. Iâm not afraid to gamble with what we have. But if thatâs what weâre going to do, we canât make mistakes We donât have any margin for error in our lives. Be realistic, Coddy.â
If Alice felt trapped, how did other people feel? I was afraid to put a title on what I saw in her.
A current was riding the air. Not only in the city, but in the suburbs, as well. A current that cut across the fields and the countryside. Wherever there were people hassling to make a living, there was scarcity in the air. I looked at Alice.
âHoney, Iâve got to go to