Belief
by Troubleshooter Copyright 2000 all rights reserved.
Chapter 5
Its another Monday morning. I suppose lots of people hate Monday mornings, what with
it being the start of their work week and all. I did shift work and weekend work most of
my life, so Monday mornings never meant anything to me.
I guess Ive gotten pretty far off the story Im supposed to be telling. Jules
and I talked about writing a little bit this weekend. We decided to go into the city
Saturday morning and stay at the apartment she has for us in the Quarter. We had a good
time.
We walked around and looked at all of the shops. Jules loves to shop. Im the pack
mule, which is fine by me. Besides the view is great. I get to trail along behind her.
Jules has a really nice ass. Her mother and father are coming in tonight. She and her
mother can go shopping until they drop.
Im not much for shopping. Seems like a giant waste of time mostly. And some of the
stuff they have in those shops in the Quarter.... Ive come into contact with a whole
lot of people being a cop. I dont think Ive ever met anyone that would buy
some of that stuff, unless you wanted to piss off a relative or something.
We went to this place called Snug Harbor for dinner. Theyve got great steaks and
great jazz. Then Jules wanted to go dancing. I like slow dancing better than the fast
stuff, probably because its another Jules contact opportunity. We went to this
little place called The Treasury. Its a mixed bar and it turned out that they were
having a drag show. It was actually pretty good.
A lot of lesbians Ive met dont like drag shows. Im not sure why. There
was this one that was really good that used to be held at this bar on the corner of
Decatur and Esplanade. The two guys that put the show on were phenomenal performers. They
didnt do the standard drag thing - put on a gown, makeup and a wig and mouth a song.
Their little skits required you to think. It was more like performance art. Plus,
youve got to love the names those guys come up with as their stage names.
My favorite one was the live Patsy Cline/dead Patsy Cline skit. I remember the first time
I saw it, I was amazed. One of them would come out on stage dressed as Patsy Cline and do
a fairly decent rendition of Walking After Midnight. Then, when it was over, the lights
would go out, and there would be this combination of music and noise that would come over
the speakers. It wouldnt register at first what it was, but if you paid attention,
you could figure out that it was the noise of a plane going down and crashing. Then this,
I dont know, I guess an angry disco version of Walking After Midnight would start
and a spotlight would light up on stage, focused on the other guy. He was dressed in a
black pantsuit that was torn and ripped and had makeup bruises and fake blood on him, like
he had been in a plane crash.
I couldnt believe that a lot of people didnt get it. I thought I was reading
too much into it. It seemed to me that the portrayals were about life versus death. The
sweet, almost innocent, version of the first song, then the anger of the second. I got a
chance to talk with them one night, so I asked. I wasnt reading too much into it.
They meant to do that.
I couldnt sleep, and so after Jules drifted off, I got out of bed and sat on the
balcony. Theres always something going on in the Quarter. Its like no one ever
sleeps here. And if theres a weirdo out there, theyll find their way to the
Quarter.
I spent a lot of time on patrol in the Quarter. Its my favorite district.
Everythings so old here. Some tourists find it dirty. I guess it is, but if
everything was shiny and sparkling clean, I think it would lose something. I like the
sense of history I feel. It makes me feel like I belong. The cracks in the
buildings...its like you can see the defects, see the stress the buildings been
under, but its still holding up. I think the cracks are beautiful. Its
probably a good thing I wasnt an architect. Id starve.
My favorite picture of Diego and Jules was taken a couple of blocks away from here. It was
taken on February 24, 1998, which was Mardi Gras Day. For a cop, Mardi Gras isnt
that much fun. Mardi Gras here in New Orleans isnt just a one day celebration. It
runs for two weeks before the actual Mardi Gras day. Every officer is pulled and
theres massive reassignments during those two weeks. You work between twelve to
fifteen hours a day and by the end of the two weeks, youre a walking zombie.
I had the fortune of getting an assignment to the Mounted Division, actually the DDD,
which was the Downtown Development District, in the late eighties, which meant that I got
to patrol the downtown area on horseback. I did that for four years. I was one of the
Departments experienced riders, so every year I pull Mounted duty for Mardi Gras. In
my opinion, its the best duty you can get. Usually, youre assigned a parade to
ride in front of, then youre assigned to a corner on Bourbon Street. Theres
between six and eight officers assigned to each block of the parade route, as well as each
block on Bourbon.
Jules and Diego came to visit me on Mardi Gras day. During that time, thats about
the only way I got to see them. We kept the horses behind barricades on the side streets
off of Bourbon. Youd be amazed at what drunks will try and do to your horse. I had
put Diego up on top of Sabu, the horse that I usually rode. He was a gorgeous gelding.
Part Arabian, part monster. He topped out at sixteen and three-quarter hands. He was
almost copper in color, with a flaxen mane and tail, and a white blaze down his face. And
could he move a crowd.
One of the newspaper photographers that Jules knew was wandering around in the crowd and
stopped to talk to Jules. He had his camera with him and talked Jules into getting up on
Sabu with Diego in front of her. He took a picture of the three of us, me standing on the
ground next to them. The looks on their faces were pure joy. Great smiles. I think I look
goofy in the picture. Jules tells me I look proud.
I am, you know...proud. Proud of them both. That I would have ever been given two
treasures in my life like that...it was beyond anything that I could ever imagine. I need
to remember that. I get so caught up in my own shit sometimes. I dont want to lose
Jules.
We ended up talking late Thursday night. I told her some of it. I didnt tell her a
whole lot. Just that I had seen Diego die. I dont think I can tell her all of it.
She doesnt need to know. It will just hurt her more. Hasnt she been hurt
enough?
At that moment, I never felt so powerless in my life...so hopeless. Its my nightmare
every night. I will never forget that. They could remove my brain and Id still
remember. Its a memory of my heart and soul.
Jules asked me last night what more I could have done. I didnt have an answer. There
should have been something. I go through what happened and I find my mistakes. My
mistakes...theyre uncorrectable. I had one shot.
That mother fucker laughed when she pulled the trigger. Our boy was crying and calling for
his mami. Calling for Jules. I told him how much we both loved him.
How can I tell Jules that? How can I tell her that those soft brown eyes were staring at
me and filled with terror? Pleading with me to do something? And I couldnt. I
couldnt get away from the two men holding me. I had lost too much blood from the
gunshot wounds. My left shoulder was dislocated, the arm broken. My eyes almost swollen
shut from the beating I had endured. My body failed me and I failed him.
When she turned the gun on me, I wanted to die. I prayed that she would kill me. Praying
never works. I think she meant to kill me, but she didnt. As she fired, my last
thoughts were of our boy going to Heaven. Jules would see him one day, when she died. I
wouldnt. I would be joining Catalina de Quintanilla in Hell. I couldnt wait
for her to join me.
Its the eye for an eye story, as old as time. I killed her son, Vicente. She killed
mine. Revenge, pure and simple. It didnt make a difference to her that Vicente was
the scum of the earth and trying to evade capture and kill police officers while doing it
and that Diego was an innocent child. I thought it would make a difference that she was a
mother. I pleaded and begged with her to let him go. It made no difference to her. She
said that all she wanted was to see my face, my pain when she killed him. To know that I
knew what it felt like to lose a child before she sent me to be judged by my maker. I
tried to deny her that satisfaction, but I dont think I did.
How can I tell Jules any of this?
********************
Good afternoon.
I went out and bought Damian a camera this morning. One of those really nice ones with
interchangeable lenses, zoom, auto-focus, practically anything you could want on a camera.
I got the idea when we were in the Quarter this weekend. I bought one of those disposable
cameras to take some pictures. She hates having her picture taken. I took one of her in
front of the Joan of Arc statue at the Place de France where Decatur, St. Phillip and
North Peters streets meet. It was like talking to a child. Damian, stand up
straight. Stop fidgeting. Smile...please. She finally gave me the most adorable
little smile. I hope the pictures come out.
We have a nice camera and one of those camcorder things, but nothing like this. Shes
always taken good pictures, often from very interesting perspectives. Mom and I were
talking in D.C. last week and she suggested that I get Damian interested in something. I
figured photography would work. At least she could build a darkroom. If I dont get
her interested in something besides building things, were gonna need to start
clearing more land. How much deck do we really need? Its gonna be bigger than the
house soon. And my dads coming in tonight. More trees will give their life so we can
have a Guiness Book of Records size deck.
When I gave the camera to her, her eyes lit up. I could give her a bag of dog poo and
shed be excited. Im not sure if its because of the prospect of taking
pictures or if its because its a new toy she has to figure out. I hope she
doesnt break it before she gets a chance to use it. She never reads directions. I
always tease her and tell her that her father must have been an engineer.
The first time I did that, it did not go over well at all. She was putting together a
barbecue pit we had bought. I was about to go crazy watching her. We were having people
over in an hour for a little get together and the main attraction was in about a hundred
pieces on the patio in the back yard. I tried to interject a little humor into the
situation, mostly to make myself feel better and to see if she would take a hint about
reading the directions.
It didnt work. The hint flew over her head, I definitely didnt feel better and
she got angry. We were a little late.
Shes gotten much better about that. The teasing, that is. Not the directions thing.
So if the camera survives her initial inspection, I imagine Ill have some beautiful
pictures to see.
Damian was unusually quiet this weekend. I think what happened on Thursday night really
took its toll on her emotionally. Emotional things just exhaust her, and shes had
enough of that in the last several months to keep her tired for the next five lifetimes.
I was kind of glad that she was quiet. What she told me really shocked me. I...Im
not sure if she had said more that I would have been able to respond. I did make some
decisions this weekend, though, thinking about it.
I would think that it would be less painful for me if I didnt know what happened.
But I want to know, if only because I think that if she tells me, that at least some of
her pain would lessen. We arent married in the eyes of the church or even the law,
but my commitment to her, for better or for worse, wont allow me to do any less.
I also realized how far weve come along in putting our lives back together.
Damians been there for me so much while keeping everything inside. In the long run,
its probably best that it happened that way. Shes so much stronger than I am.
If she had told me about seeing Diego even a month ago...I dont know what I would
have done. I wouldnt have been able to handle it.
Its her turn now. I feel stronger, and even though the pain hasnt lessened, it
doesnt come quite as often. I feel like I can handle things a little better now. I
need to, for her sake. Shes been bearing the burden alone long enough. I need to
thank her for that.
Theres so much that I need to thank her for. I want to spend the rest of my life
doing that. Im really trying to make a conscious effort to find the good that will
come out of what happened. It isnt always easy. I think Mom and Dad coming will
help. I know that Moms little heart to heart with me helped tremendously.
I also thought a lot about what Mom had to say. Shes so good at pointing things out
that I cant see. Its the forest for the trees concept. Youre so deeply
involved in something that you miss other things. Ive been pretty concerned about
whats going to happen with Damians career. Being a police officer is so much a
part of who she is.
We havent talked about what she wants to do. Shes on disability leave right
now. I dont know if she can go back to it, both physically and mentally. And
frankly, I dont want her to. The thought of it terrifies me. If its something
she wants to do, though, Ill find a way to deal with it. They could offer her a desk
job, but thats not Damian. Shed be miserable.
We dont have to worry about money, which is another gift from my father, although
its a worry we both could have lived with, because it would mean that Diego is
alive. I dont know if Ive mentioned it before, but my fathers in
insurance. If youre the child of a man whos sold insurance your whole life,
youve got more policies than you can imagine. I think we even have insurance on Maya
and Arabella.
He advised us to buy life insurance on all of us, whole life I think they call it, for
investment purposes. When Diego died, the life insurance paid off, as well as the
disability policy on Damian and some policies she had through the Department.
Damian hates the money. She wont even do anything with it. I understand how she
feels. I hate it, too. My parents sat us both down and had a little chat with us about it.
I felt so guilty doing anything with it. So did she. They urged us to at least use what we
needed to take some time off and put our lives back together, then we could give it to
charity or whatever we wanted.
We talked about it. She lets me handle the money. We both still hate it, but at least
its giving us this time to heal without additional worries. We havent gone
crazy or anything with it. We were on a pretty tight budget to begin with and we really
dont require a whole lot. Weve kind of maintained that budget. We decided to
invest the money and use the proceeds to donate to various non-profits that deal with
children. I think Diego would be proud of it. I think that he would be proud of us.
What I wouldnt give to see his smile one more time...to hear him say, I love
you, Mami.
I need to leave. Weve got to go get my parents from the airport.
********************
So how many did you take down?
I stared at Jules father, trying to burn holes into him with my eyes. He kept
pounding that damn nail into the board. Eleven, I could feel the anger ignite.
Not good enough.
Youre alive.
Not good enough. I barked back.
What would have been good enough?
I could feel myself start to shake as the flames of my anger licked at my heart. What
would have been good enough? Bringing Diego home, alive. Having my little boy...our little
boy, safely cradled in Jules arms...my arms around both of them. Absolutely nothing else
would have been good enough. Little boys shouldnt die when they were ten.
Have you talked to Juliana about this?
She knows what happened.
No, she really doesnt. She hasnt heard it from you.
I kept staring at him. I couldnt hit him to shut him up. He is Jules father. I
just had to stand there and take it.
He finally finished pounding that damn nail in and looked up at me. My stare didnt
seem to bother him a bit. He stood slowly, and lifted his shirt up to display a large scar
on the side of his chest. Nam. 1962. He snorted at the look on my face.
You believe everything you read in the papers? We were over there then.
I didnt know what to answer, or even if I was supposed to.
I wont bore you with the details.
I watched as a look of sadness came over his eyes. He dropped his shirt back down.
Absolutely nothing helped but speaking to Marilyn about it when I got home. Not the
shrinks, not my buddies. Nothing.
He stared at me for so long I wanted to squirm.
You love a Hayden woman. God knows, she loves you. Theyre a tough breed.
Marilyn still kicks my ass every single day.
He dropped back down and picked up another nail, then he looked back up at me. Love
tolerates many things, Damian, but not secrets. Neither do Hayden women. Shell get
it out of you eventually. Make it easy on yourself. He chuckled at his last words,
as if remembering something.
I went back to pounding nails into the boards. I was so angry, it was only taking one
swing of the hammer to drive a nail in. I know he's right. I just don't want him to be
right.
We compared scars later. I often wonder if I had had parents, if they would have been like
Julianas. I know my mother wasnt. I doubt my father would have been.
Shes really lucky. Im lucky by default. She came with them. Her Dads
pretty cool. Her mother scares the hell out of me.
*******************
They are so weird. Damian and my father. I looked out the back window and they were both
practically naked and pointing to the various scars on their bodies. I called for my
mother, who joined me in looking at the display.
What is wrong with them?
I dont know. Badges of honor or something. There are just some things that
Ill never understand about your father, no matter how many years Ive been with
him.
I muttered back. I know what you mean.
She laughed. My mother has a delightful laugh. I cant wait until they start
fighting over whos going to flip the steaks on the barbecue pit tonight. Want to
make a bet on which ones gonna win?
I chuckled. As long as theres no bloodshed, I dont care who does it.
Maybe I should go buy another pit.
No...if it bothers them enough, theyll build another one. How many truckloads
of bricks did it take to build the one thats out there now?
My eyes moved over to the brick pit Damian had built. I have no idea. It looks
like a miniature house.
You could put a whole cow in there.
I shook my head. I know. When she planned it, she said it was just going to be a
small little thing. I should have known better when she dug the hole for the foundation. I
thought she was putting in another pool. Who knew a barbecue pit should have a
foundation?
It felt so good to laugh and talk with my mother. To commiserate and grouse about Dad and
Damian. It felt so normal.
I turned and looked at my mother. I hope I look like she does when I get older. Im
almost an exact copy of her now. Thank you, I offered softly.
Youre welcome, sweetheart. She turned and looked at me. Damian
looks a lot better.
Weve talked a little more. Shes starting to open up a little.
My guess is that shes as stubborn as your father.
More, I think.
I received a groan of sympathy.
Come on, lets go outside and get them before your father has heat stroke.
Damian may be used to this heat, but hes not.
I happily followed my mother outside as my thoughts wandered to that skin she was showing.
I really dont know what came over me. The closer I got to Damian, the more I wanted
her. My mother caught me staring at her. She gave me a knowing look. I turned beet red.
Damian and my father looked confused.
My mother dragged my father into the house, scolding him about staying in the heat too
long and telling him that he needed a shower before dinner. She kind of looked over her
shoulder at me and nodded slightly. Oh my God! My mother was telling me that she was going
to keep my father occupied for a little while. I turned red again.
Damian was looking at me, puzzled. Jules, are you okay?
I waited until the door closed and then practically flung myself at her. I never was one
to waste an opportunity.
Jules...mmmpfff...honey...your parents....
My lips were busy keeping hers occupied. It made it a little difficult for her to talk.
Sweet...heart...your mom...dad.....
My hands went to her breasts and I heard a guttural moan. I love when she does that. I
love that I do that to her.
She broke away from me. Juliana Lee Hayden! I love when she gets indignant.
I put on my best little pout and batted my eyelashes at her.
Your parents are gonna come out and catch us.
No, they wont.
How can you be so sure? What has gotten into you? Her eyes looked over
nervously at the back door.
Moms going to keep Dad occupied for a little while. I didnt know
how, and I didnt care.
What?!
My eyes searched around the backyard for a place where we could make love. Seclusion would
be good. Behind the barbecue pit? It certainly was big enough to hide both of us behind
it. Hell, we could probably both get inside the damn thing. No. Not good. The pool.
Excellent choice! Ill explain it to you later. We dont have a lot of
time. Get in the pool and get naked.
You have lost your mind.
I leered at her. Yeah, aint it grand? Now get in that damn pool before I throw
you down right here and sit on your face. I was certainly in a mood.
Those blue eyes went wide, but she started backing up to the pool. I think she was scared
that I would have really done that. I dont think I would have. I think.
It was fast and furious and wonderful and then I couldnt get her out of the pool.
She didnt want to stop. Neither did I, really. But how long could my mother keep my
father occupied? I finally had to resort to a little white lie. Is that the
door? I whispered as she plunged her fingers inside me.
Didnt hear a door.
I bit her shoulder to keep from crying out when her thumb brushed over my clit. I
think that was the door.
Just a little bit more time, baby. Youre so close again.
She gets so focused. Someone could have drained all the water out the pool right then and
she wouldnt have noticed. And she was right. I was very close. I stopped with the
door comments for a few more minutes.
When we went back inside, my mother smirked at me. My father asked me why my hair was wet.
I told him we jumped in the pool to cool off. He asked me if I did. Damian said no as I
said yes. I turned red again. I hope my mother didnt tell him what we were doing out
there.
This is the first day. Theyre going to be here until next Monday morning. Were
gonna look like prunes before they leave.
**************************
Ed and Marilyn went to meet some friends for lunch in Mandeville, so we have a little time
to sit down and write. Jules is sitting in front of her computer. She keeps looking over
here at me. I dont know whats gotten into her. Not that I mind it. Its
been fun. A lot of fun. Kind of like were being bad kids and sneaking around doing
something we shouldnt. I think my shoulders going to need some ice on it for
the bruising. Every time she comes, she bites down on it. Ive got to tell her to
switch shoulders. Equal opportunity bruising.
We havent been this relaxed in a long time. Its just the thought of her
parents being in the house that kind of freaks me out. I dont really know why.
Its..its...theyre her parents. I dont think I really need to say
more.
Ive gone back and looked at some of what Ive written so I could figure out
where it was that I left off in our story. Its a good thing Im a cop and Jules
is the writer. Ive jumped around all over the place. So lets see if I can get
back on track.
I think the last thing I really talked about that didnt jump all over was
Diegos surgery. That scared me. A lot. Jules was so good about all of that.
Shes so very patient with me and shes got this way of treating people...of
asking questions. They talk to her. You cant help but like her. Shes got a
really beautiful smile. Understanding, kind eyes. Her face is so expressive. Honest.
Sincere. Shes not a good liar. You can tell in an instant when she is.
She talked to every person she could get her hands on about the surgery and ASD. Then she
explained it all to me. Its not that Im stupid or anything. I get really
impatient. I want answers now, and I guess I can be a little abrupt when Im asking
questions. Jules says I intimidate people. I have to acknowledge that I tend to do that on
occasion. I also hate when they dont answer me directly. The doctors either talk to
you like you dont know how to tie your shoelaces or youre Albert Einstein.
Diego looked so small in that big hospital bed, hooked up to all that machinery. I think
Jules and I actually suffered more than Diego did after his surgery. That little sucker
bounced back so fast. Kids are amazing.
I dont know whos worse at qualifying their answers...doctors or lawyers. We
were dealing with lawyers, too, after the surgery, trying to start the adoption process.
We finally found this lawyer who was a childrens rights advocate. Harry Becnel. What
a trip this guy was. He said to us, Im not like most lawyers. Ill take
your money. Probably a lot of it. But I get results.
I liked him immediately. He was a no bull shit kind of guy. We found out later that what
he made from paying clients he used to finance the cases for clients who couldnt
pay. He drove an old, beat-up Ford pickup. He came to Diegos memorial service, still
driving that truck.
There are special people you meet in your life, the ones that make an impression.
Its usually the ones that dont try to make an impression. They just are who
they are. Harry Becnel was like that. He died a month ago. The world will be a little
poorer without him. We went to his funeral. The place was packed. He mustve helped a
lot of people. How come you dont hear about people like him in the news?
Jules is like Harry. You cant come away from an encounter with her without feeling
like your lifes been touched for the better in some inexplicable way. Diego was like
that, too. He was such a happy boy, in spite of everything that had happened to him. I
used to tease he and Jules about that. Like mother, like son.
I mean, I know that they werent blood related. There was just so much of Jules in
Diego. He was bright and energetic. He had a certain patience that you wouldnt
expect of a little boy. And he loved life. Both of them...the things that we got to do
with him...it was incredible. Theres this picture we got someone to take of the
three of us in Disney. The fireworks were exploding and it was kind of a semi-profile
shot. The expression on our faces...we all looked like kids.
Joy...pure, unadulterated joy...thats what Diego made me feel. Thats what
Jules makes me feel. Theyre the only two who ever did.
Those initial months...it was so wild. I was in love for the first time in my life. The
only time. Diego eventually got out of the hospital, and with Harry doing a little bit of
legal wrangling, and me pulling a few strings with some contacts I had in Social Services,
we got Diego placed in a foster home with some people I knew. Jules and I werent
really living together at the time. We ended up being together as much as we could,
though.
I think I drove her crazy sometimes. I always took my responsibility as her baby
sitter, as she called me, very seriously. No one Id ever worked with had
gotten hurt, and with Jules and our developing relationship, it became triply important.
We had gotten some breaks in the case. There was this family that had an operation set up.
They smuggled drugs, guns and people. The Quintanilla family. Theyre all dead now.
As it should be.
We went on another raid the first night after we made love. There was this container ship
that was coming into port. It was supposed to have a little bit of everything on it -
guns, drugs and people. I would still get pretty aggravated that I couldnt
participate fully in the raid, what with Jules tagging along. We secured the ship.
Generally, you dont get a fight from the crew. Most of them dont even know
whats on the ship.
We started checking the containers. They were using dogs. One of the dogs found something,
so everybody started moving in that direction. We stopped, Jules and I, kind of off to the
side of the container. As they were opening the doors, this idiot dropped a bolt-cutter. I
had no idea at the time what it was. All I heard was a loud bang. I dove on top of Jules
and she kind of hit the deck. Hard. With me on top of her.
We found some guns and drugs. Well, they did. I ended up having to take Jules to the
hospital to be checked out for a concussion. She was a little out of it there for a while.
I told you it was amazing we didnt kill each other the first few months.
Sitting in the emergency room, waiting for them to finish examining Jules...I think that
was the first time I really thought of what I did for a living. I had been on the force
for fourteen years. I had seen a lot of things. Experienced a lot of things. I hadnt
shot anybody, but I had been in a lot of confrontations. Been in some dangerous
situations. Almost got killed once when I was in Vice. You put the badge on, and it comes
with the territory.
But I never had anybody to worry about before. Never had anything to live for before. I
remember sitting there thinking, Boy, this is going to take some getting used
to. Feeling like I had a responsibility towards someone else was...strange. But I
liked it. A lot. And I had two someones to take care of.
My jobs never been an issue with Jules. Weve talked about it. Im pretty
sure that she doesnt like the idea of the risks that the job entails, but she
accepts it. Its what I do. Part of who I am. I dont know anything else. I did
get a chance to go to college. One of the schools here has a criminal justice program.
Cops get a break on the tuition. I went part-time and ended up with a Master of Criminal
Justice. Eds brought up private security work. I dont know if Im cut out
for that.
Ive been thinking about going back to the Department. Joe Duncans told me
hed take me with him, get me a job as a fibbie if I want to do that. I dont
know what I want to do. I miss it in some ways. In others, I dont. I...you get a
chance to do some good out there. Help some people out. Or at least try. Sometimes it
works out. Sometimes it doesnt.
I think the best assignment I ever had was foot patrol in the Quarter. I loved walking a
beat, being able to be in contact with people. Jules would laugh hysterically if she read
that line. Its not that Im a people person. I was always pretty much happiest
when I was alone, until Jules came along. I cant imagine my life without her.
Its the being on the street...on the ground...not riding in a car. You got to know
people. See them for more than just the first impression you get if you jump out a patrol
car answering a call. You figure out that they have problems and you help where you can.
Sometimes, all they needed was someone to listen. Tell em they were worth something.
It really pisses me off that nobody in government can get their act together so we can get
more cops on the street.
Take the City for example. Everybody bitches about there not being enough money. About two
years ago, the Mayor got on TV and threatened that the city was going to be paralyzed
because the tax money from gambling that they were relying on wasnt coming in. Over
half of the employees at City Hall were gonna be laid off and they wouldnt be able
to hire any new policemen or firemen.
The politicians answer? Raise taxes. There was a big campaign and a vote. The people
ended up rejecting the taxes. Guess how many people lost their jobs. If you guessed
nobody, youd be right. What a bunch of crap. Jules wrote a great article about it.
Shes not the Mayors favorite reporter.
Somebody should take a walk through City Hall. For every one person thats actually
doing work, there are two people watching. Its sad. Most people dont care.
They dont have to deal with City Hall. As long as their lives arent affected,
its a non-issue. But as soon as their lives are affected, the worlds supposed
to stop and everybodys supposed to make it right. There was this woman one day, on
the steps of City Hall, with cameras and reporters from the TV stations surrounding her.
She was bitching about some tragedy that occurred to her when she was trying to get
something done at City Hall. She made a statement about being appalled.
Im always appalled. Things have gotten less appalling over the years. That bothers
me. Its like you become desensitized to it. Begin to accept it as the norm. I
dont think thats right.
Most of what bothers me is really common sense stuff. Take the drug smuggling for example.
We spend billions of dollars a year to fight it. Whats the results? Loss of life,
both from the use of the drugs and the battle over them. Addiction. Crime from feeding the
addiction. How much do we spend on keeping the drug smugglers behind bars? This
doesnt even begin to touch on the ramifications.
Whats the ramifications of legalizing it? Make it cheap. Even free to those who
cant afford it. Didnt we learn anything from Prohibition? Will you still have
addicted people? Hell, yes. Youve got em now. Will you have any more? Probably
not. Addictions a disease and right now, we dont even know whos
afflicted. Will more kids try it? Probably not. If you think kids as young as ten or
twelve arent taking drugs or drinking alcohol, youve been living under a rock.
If they want it, they get it. No law stops them.
Hell, living with a bunch of nuns didnt stop it. There was this girl at the home,
Chrissa. She was twelve. I was fourteen. She got moved into our room. She used to keep
Bourbon stashed in a Holy Water bottle in her dresser drawer next to a little bag of
marijuana. Poor planning and poor imagination on her part. If you were gonna hide alcohol
in a Holy Water bottle, at least use something like vodka or gin. At least those were
clear, like Holy Water. She got caught. Big surprise. The nuns werent always that up
on everything, but even they didnt buy that the Holy Water had gone bad. They also
didnt buy the potpourri story either.
I never understood it. I didnt do drugs. I tried marijuana once and threw up. That
was enough for me. Its supposed to have anti-nausea effects. They forgot to tell me.
Jules has done some drugs. Experimented with marijuana and cocaine. I dont get it,
but then, thats just me. She doesnt do them any more. Not since college.
I did smoke in high school. Quit when I was twenty-five. Started smoking again after
everything happened. Jules hates it. I don't know why I started again. I need to quit.
Will there be other problems if we legalized drugs? Probably. But the real question is,
what set of problems can we deal with better? Illegal versus legal? Knowing what I know,
Id have to say legal.
Dont get me wrong. Humans are so inventive. Most likely, someone would come up with
something else that was illegal, and wed be battling about something else. This drug
thing is just a battle thats impossible to win. When they tell you that were
winning the war against drugs, theyre lying to you. For every kilo of coke that gets
confiscated, a thousand make it through.
Sorry about that. I didnt mean to get on my soapbox. It makes me angry that there
are thousands of people who put their lives on the line every day when they dont
have to. Maybe, if drugs had been legalized, the Quintanillas wouldnt have been
doing what they were doing, I wouldnt have killed Vicente and Diego would be alive
today.
*******************
Good morning. Late morning actually.
Im having so much trouble staying focused today. I think part of my problem focusing
is because I feel so relaxed. I havent felt like his in a long time. Im almost
giddy.
I want to grab Damian and play with her. Just do silly things. I keep looking over at her,
and shes so focused on her writing. She does this cute little thing with her tongue
when shes thinking. The tip of it kind of sticks out. And her face...she gets all
these different expressions on it.
Its another one of those little things I learned about her. Her facial expressions,
her voice, her posture...if shes uncomfortable in a situation, she has no
expression. People talk about masks. If theres such a thing as a full-body mask,
then she puts one of those on.
I cant tell you how happy I am that shes writing. Its really a miracle
to me that shes actually doing this. I wasnt kidding when I told my mother she
was stubborn. Ive learned never to say Damian, you shouldnt... or
Damian, shouldnt you... because shell do the exact opposite, just
because. Like when she has a headache. I can tell because of this little pained look she
gets and the way her brows knit. A Honey, why dont you take some
aspirin? will get me a Dont need any. But if I get them for her
and hand them to her without a word, shell take them.
In some ways, dealing with Damian is like dealing with a child. I dont mean that in
a bad way. Its one of the things that I love about her. How she grew up, where she
grew up...I dont think she had an opportunity to be a kid when she needed to be a
kid. If I can give her back a little bit of that childhood, Im not going to
complain.
We were talking about things from our past one evening. Well, I was. Its when I
found out that she grew up in an orphanage. We were out on a date. Damian still blushes
when I refer to them as dates. She says thats so old-fashioned. But she is
old-fashioned about some things, in a very good kind of way. She opens doors for me. Says
please and thank you. Believes strongly in fidelity. In commitment.
I got into a story about a couple of my friends from childhood, talking about things we
did, slumber parties, tea parties, riding the bus to school. Everything that I thought was
a part of everyones childhood. You know how you can be talking to someone and
theyre agreeing with you or saying Yeah, I remember that or I know
what you mean. And you know they have no earthly idea what it is youre talking
about. Theres always this politely interested yet clueless expression on their
faces.
She was wearing that expression. I couldnt figure out why. I asked her,
Didnt you ever go to a slumber party? Put someones underwear in the
freezer?
You put someones underwear in the freezer? A note of disbelief colored
her voice.
Yeah...thats what youre supposed to do at slumber parties. Freeze
underwear, talk about the boys, put makeup on each other...all that stuff. What did you do
at your slumber parties? I still didnt know her well enough to immediately
note the signs that this was making her uncomfortable.
Um...I...well, I didnt go to any.
Why not?
Sisters wouldnt let us go, she mumbled.
I was confused. I didnt think she had any siblings. And she said
sisters. Plural. Being the journalist that I am, I inquired further, Why
on earth wouldnt your sisters let you go? Visions of Cinderella came into my
mind. I was starting to not like her family and I hadnt even met them. Her
sisters...they were probably like the mean step-sisters in Cinderella. Good thing Im
dating the beautiful, kind one.
Not my sisters...nuns.
Nuns? I was really confused then. Was this some weird offshoot of the Catholic
religion where nuns directed your activities? I didnt know that much about
Catholics. Ive never cared very much what religion a person was. I knew Damian was
Catholic. I found out one day when we were driving down Canal Street in Mid-City and we
passed a cemetery and she made the sign of the cross. Thats a dead giveaway that
youre Catholic. That, and the small gold crucifix on a chain around her neck.
Why would nuns tell you what to do? Other than if youre in school, I mean,
that is, if you went to a Catholic school. I tend to think aloud sometimes. It can
be good and it can be bad.
Her eyes dropped to the table and she played with the silverware. I...uh...I lived
with them.
You lived with nuns or your sisters? I wondered if I had drank too much wine
with dinner.
Nuns...I dont have any sisters. Her eyes flickered up to mine, then
dropped back down. She sighed. I...I grew up in an orphanage.
I was glad it wasnt the wine. I wanted to be fully alert for this. It was one of the
first glimpses into her past that she had allowed me and I wanted to know more. I
wasnt really sure what to say. Here in New Orleans?
Yeah, off of St. Charles Avenue. A place called St. Vincents. It was run by
the Daughters of Charity. She raised her eyes to look at me. It was almost as if she
expected me to reject her.
I returned her gaze and hoped mine reflected warmth and affection and acceptance.
Did you live there all of your life?
From eighteen months until I was eighteen.
Pieces of the puzzle started to click into place. She clearly wasnt very comfortable
discussing this. I wondered what had happened during the first eighteen months of her
life, but didnt want to press. She can shutdown so quickly. I was fascinated by her.
I still am. If we live to be a hundred, Ill still be fascinated by her. What
did you do when you were eighteen?
Joined the department. She seemed a little relieved that I had moved on.
I remember going home that night and climbing into bed, my body still tingling from that
hormonal surge I had experienced as we kissed goodnight. I laid there for quite a while,
trying to read, but my thoughts kept wandering to her. Thinking about her and the things
that I had learned about her...shes probably the richest story Ive ever read.
I have a friend, Ellen, from Virginia. We met when I was in fifth grade and she
transferred in. We still talk and see each other. Shes living in New York now.
Married this really great guy, Vincent. He can cook a mean lasagna. Shes one of
those earth people...at least I call them earth people. She has this certain wisdom about
her. Always has. She just knows things and has a way of explaining them thats
simple...matter of fact. No pronouncements of great pearls of wisdom or truth, but she is
always so very right.
It was 1990 and I had just come back from South Africa where Nelson Mandela had been
released. We were having dinner...the first time I had Vincents lasagna. I was
relating an incident I had observed. Which one...I cant remember right now. It
evolved into a discussion about life and its trials and tribulations.
Ellen told me that she viewed life as a sine wave. I cringed. Mathematics had not been my
favorite subject. I can balance a checkbook, perform the necessary mathematical functions
in daily life, those kinds of things, but the esoteric concepts of mathematics always
eluded me. She laughed at the look on my face.
You know what I mean, Juliana.
It was my turn to laugh. You seem to be forgetting the mathematical prowess I
demonstrated in school.
Oh, yeah. I wont bother with the theories then. I could see by the look
on her face that she remembered. Well, you know the amplitude...how the wave goes
above and below baseline?
I seem to vaguely recall something like that.
I like to look at life like this. She made a motion with her finger, drawing a
sine wave in the air. Since the wave is.... She searched for words my
un-mathematical brain could comprehend. Well, it goes equally low and equally high.
If it goes to, say, a minus five, then the part above the baseline goes to positive
five.
I nodded. Im with you so far.
In essence, as low as you go in life is as high as you can go. I think as much pain
as you experience is as much joy as you are capable of experiencing. People who dont
experience a whole lot of pain...who dont take risks...they...dont ever get to
go that high.
Ive always tried to remember what she told me that night. Its served me well.
I thought of that the night Damian told me about growing up in an orphanage.
I could easily lose my heart and soul to her, I remember thinking as I lay in bed. I had
never risked that before. Was I capable of taking that risk? Did I want to take that risk?
She hid her depth so well behind that full body mask. I had heard comments others had made
about her. Some not so kind. She was a loner, people said. Hard to get to know. Quiet. A
little too intense. The shadows...darkness...it made people uncomfortable. Yet I had seen
her in the light. The softness...the gentleness...the tenderness...the kindness that so
few I had met possessed in such quantities. And the pain...the depth of pain in her eyes I
had seen in those rare, unguarded moments.
Oh, yes, my mind decided. I could certainly...would willingly...give her my heart and soul
if she wanted them. I sensed that the womans life had been a sine wave of a much
bigger amplitude than I could fathom, and if I was that lucky...if there were any deities
smiling upon me...she would want my heart and soul and I would get to ride that sine wave
with her.
The best decision of my life.
To be continued....
Feedback can be directed to troubleshooter
Return to The Bard's Corner