Free One Foot Off the Gutter by Peter Plate Page B

aside, we would be nothing without them.

    I finished first and looked at Bellamy. I measured him with a cynical eye. It wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t help it. Bellamy was a solid cop, yet he didn’t understand the personal, behind-the-scenes program. There were certain pressures that went along with being married which Bellamy didn’t comprehend. I decided to explain myself.
    â€œI’ve been talking to Alice. That’s all we ever do. We talk about this bullshit. And I’ll admit it. I’m starting to get crazy. And you know what? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. If my circumstances don’t improve, I don’t know what’ll happen. What other choice do I have? I’ve got to jump for what I want.”
    â€œIf you want, I can drive,” Bellamy offered.
    I leered at him in mild fury, convinced this was an issue Bellamy would never fathom. “You know I can’t let you do that,” I japed. “What’s the matter with you? You have a suspended driver’s license.”
    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, “I don’t like Novato. All I ever see are other cops’ wives. It’s like we’re clones. We worry for our husbands. Our little gods. We want them to come home safely to us. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it. I know it’s part of the job.”
    Feeling like a ship lost at sea, Alice struggled to find the right expression. She wasn’t fussy. But it had to be accurate; something that made sense.
    I’d 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 kitchen’s stern fluorescent lighting.
    â€œI’m working on a plan,” I said. “I’m reading the listings in the newspapers every day to see what’s available. I’m chatting up property managers, landlords, and real estate agents whenever I’m making my rounds. I’m keeping my ear to the ground, doing what I can to pick up tips that will help us.”
    Who would have thought it was going to come down to this? The expression on Alice’s face scared me. The distress glinting in her watery green eyes wasn’t 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 snail’s pace. Nothing was moving like it used to. Hard work and conscientious thrift didn’t change anything.
    â€œWhat are you looking for?” she asked.
    â€œOh, a house.”
    â€œA house? Coddy, please don’t get our hopes up.”
    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 Alice’s face, I also saw the seeds of defeat planted in the downward curve of her mouth.
    â€œDon’t worry, sugar. This is a good plan.”
    â€œCoddy, you know we can’t afford a house. You know that.”
    â€œDon’t be so negative,” I said smartly. “Things can happen.”

    â€œI’m not accusing you of anything, Coddy. I’m only being practical. I’m not afraid to gamble with what we have. But if that’s what we’re going to do, we can’t make mistakes We don’t have any margin for error in our lives. Be realistic, Coddy.”
    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.
    â€œHoney, I’ve got to go to