OVER THE NEXT FEW weeks, Micki gained some weight and stabilized there. Although still very thin, she no longer appeared gaunt. She also began asking Baker questions:
“If I live with you, will I have to change schools?”
“No, of course not. You’ll go in with me in the morning.”
“Okay, I—” Her eyes grew wide. “Oh …” This was the reason why he hadn’t returned to his squad right away. But it wasn’t until the following day that she asked, “What about my job?”
“If you really want one, you can get one near me. But until you graduate, you don’t have to work at all unless you want to; I can more than afford to take care of you.” When she looked skeptical, he added, “There are guys with my salary who support a wife and kids. Believe me, it’ll be fine. I can always moonlight.”
“But why do you want to do all this? I mean, what’s in it for you?”
And so he tried to explain that being a parent was supposed to be a giving thing, that the giving itself made you feel good. He said he didn’t expect anything in return, but then added, “Well, maybe a little love and appreciation would be nice.”
Chewing the inside of her lip, she looked away.
A few days later, she asked, “What if sometime I wanted to, y’know, um, have a friend over?”
Trying to keep a straight face, he asked, “A friend of the male persuasion?”
“Um—well—yeah.”
“I suppose … I suppose that would be okay; I’d rather know where you are and who you’re with than not. What about you?” he asked. “How’re you going to feel when I have Cynthia spend the night?”
And Micki tried to imagine what that would be like, for she’d never thought about it before, had never considered that he would ever ask her such a thing, either. “I’d be okay,” she finally said.
And so it went until she had nothing more to ask. Still, he didn’t get his answer. Yet they’d fallen into a comfortable pattern: she spent Sunday afternoons with him and stayed overnight, sometimes Monday nights, as well. She also made good use of his laundry room, more than happy to stick it to her Laundromat. Baker forced himself to be patient.
Then one day, after school, she said she needed to talk to him. Alone—for Marino was in the office on the phone. But once they were in an empty classroom, she couldn’t meet his eyes for more than an instant. His heart sank, the atmosphere suddenly as oppressive as the room’s drab interior.
“I—” She stole yet another quick glance, only to note the hard set of his jaw. After she awkwardly cleared her throat, she said, “I got my period.” And then she turned her head to fully look at him, only to see his face had gone blank. Her own face grew hot: he’d told her to tell him this if it happened; it wasn’t like she’d ever want to. This was, after all, a very female thing. To have to tell him this while he towered over her …
“I—I wasn’t expecting you to say that,” he said. “But that’s great.”
“Yeah, oh joy!” she shot back.
He chuckled. “I admit it doesn’t sound like much fun, but”—his expression grew serious—“it’s a good sign, Micki. You know that, right?”
She shrugged, then watched his gaze shift to the far end of the floor. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head, spinning around feverishly. When he finally looked back, her face was full of suspicion.
He said, “I know I told you that you wouldn’t have to go to the doctor—”
“I’m not going! You said I wouldn’t have to go if—”
“I know what I said. But the truth is, you’re already sexually active, so you should be getting regular checkups anyway.”
“But I’m not really active now, right?”
He gave her a shrewd look.
She folded her arms across her chest. “How come you didn’t say this before?”
“Because I …” He put his hands on his hips. “Look, I’m not going to make you go this very minute. But in a year, if you haven’t gone already, I’m going to insist.”
Micki didn’t respond. She was too busy trying to grasp that, a whole year from now, Baker fully expected to be a part of her life.
♦ ♦ ♦
THAT SUNDAY, OVERNIGHT CLOTHES packed and waiting on the bed, Micki was scribbling furiously, finishing as much of her history homework as she could before Baker arrived. In the middle of answering the third of five questions, she heard a car door slam, and she closed the heavy textbook along with her loose-leaf. She heard Baker’s voice as he approached the stoop, and then another male voice—which she recognized—answering back. When she peered out the window, she could see the top of Gould’s head behind Baker’s. Her nostrils flared. This was their time together—and Baker hadn’t even asked. She listened to them making their way up the stairs, but she didn’t open the door until Baker knocked.
Seeing her expression, his smile faded. “I—um—I forgot my smokes. I’m just gonna run down to the corner. I’ll be right back.”
Micki gaped while he beat a hasty retreat. Then she clamped her mouth shut and gave Gould an acid glare. With crisp, purposeful strides, she went over to the desk and sat down to resume her homework.
Not knowing what to do with himself, Gould remained in the doorway. Eventually he entered the apartment and closed the door. “Okay,” he said to her back, “Jim’s little routine was pretty lame. But the truth is, I wanted to come here so’s I could talk to you.”
Without turning around, she replied, “Well, you’re here and you’re talking to me, so I guess you got your wish. Now you can go home.”
Micki couldn’t see, but Gould was fighting back a smile. He walked up beside her. “Look, Micki”—he lightly placed his hand on her shoulder—
She leaped up, nearly overturning the chair while he jumped back, heart skipping several beats.
“Don’t you touch me!” she hissed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Alls I want is to apologize for what I did when you were in the hospital.”
“Well, y’already apologized; the nurse told me so.”
“I don’t feel that was good enough.”
“I say it is, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay, okay? You’re the most important thing in Jim’s life, so I need to make it right with you. I did what I did because I was only thinkin’ of him. Y’have to understand how tight him and me are; we go way back.”
Micki’s face said she couldn’t care less.
“C’mon, I owe him my life.”
“What?”
Gould’s eyebrows shot up. “Y’mean he never told you?”
She eyed him cautiously.
He pulled a chair out for her, then sat down on the other one himself. After a moment’s pause, she joined him.
♦ ♦ ♦
THERE WAS SILENCE: GOULD had finished. Not once had Micki interrupted or even asked a question, though her features had undergone several subtle transformations during the telling.
“Yeah, okay,” she finally said.
He was careful that only his eyes were smiling when he said, “Just so’s I’m sure: you and me are okay, then?”
Chair legs scraping against the floor, she stood up. “Uh-huh.”
He stood up, as well.
But then her eyes narrowed. “So how much do you know?”
Using his thumb and index finger, he absently smoothed his mustache. “I know some—not everything.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“I know what happened that night between you and Jim.”
She looked away.
“No one else knows.”
Her eyes flashed. “So whatta y’think, huh?”
“I think Jim made a terrible mistake that he’ll never forgive himself for.”
There was a flicker of shock before her eyes narrowed again. “But whatta you think of me?”
All sorts of things started going through his head. In their brief time together, she’d revealed far more than she knew. There was so much he wanted to say. All that came out was: “I think you’re gonna be all right.”
But he’d stated it with such empathy that Micki’s expression changed. And when Gould held out his hand, it reminded her of when Baker had done that. The beefy grip was firm, and she felt an odd little thrill before they released.
He moved toward the window. “I have to give Jim the sign that things went okay.”
“Yeah? What’s the sign?”
“I stand so’s he can see me, then run my fingers through my hair.”
Sure enough, Micki could hear the downstairs door. As Gould turned back, she asked, “And what if things hadn’t gone okay?”
“Then I would’ve just stood at the window, lookin’ sad and pathetic.”
“Sounds real sophisticated.”
His manner solemn, Gould said, “Sure. Y’don’t think we spent all these years on the job for nothin’, do ya?”
And as if they’d known each other for the longest of times, they shared a sly grin that slowly became a full-blown smile. Baker let himself into the apartment, and looked at them both with mild amazement. Then he pulled some tickets from his jacket pocket, fanned them out, and held them up. “What do you say we all go to a Rangers game?”
“You’ve got four,” Micki said. “Is Cynthia coming?”
“Malone’s meeting us there.”
“I’m not going.”
Gould and Baker exchanged meaningful glances.
Gould, heading for the door, said, “I’m gonna wait downstairs.” But halfway out, he paused and leaned back in. “I hope you change your mind, Micki.” He left without waiting for a response, and she wondered if that implied Baker was going either way: with or without her.
“Why don’t you want to go?” Baker asked.
“How do you think I’m gonna feel goin’ to a hockey game with three cops?” But the stricken look on his face made her lower her eyes.
“You’re not going with three cops,” he said heatedly. “You’re going with me and two of my friends.”
She hung her head. “Captain Malone doesn’t like me.”
“He doesn’t really know you, Micki; that’s why he wanted to come. And considering the way he’s seen you behave, if he’s willing to give this a shot, I think it’s only fair you do the same.”
She looked up and glowered at him.
“And you can just call him Malone,” Baker added.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“Jesus! You can’t go through life with all these walls up all the time. I mean, you can, but you’ll miss out on a hell of a lot.”
She rolled her eyes.
The creases in his forehead deepened. “C’mon, Micki. I can’t have my life all split up into fractured, little pieces.”
“Why not?”
“Seriously? Please. This is important to me.”
With a sigh full of misery and defeat, she said, “Fine.”
His face lit up.
She was surprised to find herself smiling back.
♦ ♦ ♦
MICKI HAD A GOOD time.