Jimmy picked at the chicken she had roasted.
“It’s bad enough I can’t sleep at night worrying about you in Monta Clare.” Dark rings circled beneath his eyes. He did not shave on weekends, and blue-black stubble peppered his cheeks and neck. Most nights he studied till late, surprised by his own limitations. He had made good grades at school. He had never questioned his own future, his abilities, his faith in himself and in the fact that everything would be just fine. It was one of the things she admired most about him.
“You don’t need to worry about me.”
“You’re my wife.”
“It’s my career, Jimmy. It’s important to me.”
He sipped his water. “You don’t think I know why you do it.”
“I want to make a difference,” she said, and ate a mouthful but could not swallow it down. Behind him the wallpaper had been stripped but left in wet piles.
She stood and made to clear the dishes.
He pulled her onto his lap, and she smiled.
“We’ve got each other. We’ve got our faith. I’d do anything for you,” he said.
“I know that. I’d do anything for you, Jimmy.”
“Except show up for prom.” He pinched her sides and she laughed and he laughed.
He kissed her. “Don’t go to Kansas. I’ve only just about got my head around being married to a police officer.”
“Jimmy, I—”
He reached for her breast. “We should try again…tonight. Now.”
“The dishes…”
“You can do them after.”
He tugged her hand and led her up the stairs.