Falling Back to One

by Randy Mason

  “I’m fine,” Micki said, looking out the passenger window. Baker was driving her to the hospital for her weekly session, but all she really wanted was to go home and sleep. All day long, the images from the night before had intruded on her thoughts—even during a surprise physics quiz.

  Sleet was falling steadily, and Baker pulled up to the hospital’s entrance so he could let her out before he parked. She released her seatbelt and unlocked the door, but then hesitated. “Would you come up with me?”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “WHAT A PLEASANT SURPRISE,” Dr. Lerner remarked as Baker followed Micki into the office. “To what do I owe this?”

  “Is it okay?” Micki asked.

  “Yes. Though in the future, I’d prefer to schedule family sessions separately—in addition to your private ones.”

  Family sessions! “I—um”—Micki took off her jacket—“I just thought I’d give this another shot.”

  Already seated, Baker lit a cigarette and flashed an anxious smile, though no one was even looking in his direction.

  When Micki had settled herself, the doctor asked, “What is it you’d like to talk about, Micki? My guess is, you had something particular in mind.”

  With everyone’s eyes on her, she fidgeted. “Yeah. Well—I dunno. Things—seem different now. I wanna know if it’s real.”

  “In what way are they different?” the doctor asked.

  “Y’know …” But both the doctor and Baker remained silent, so Micki said, “He’s more—relaxed about stuff. And he doesn’t, y’know, even search me anymore.” Then looking at Baker, she added, “He still searches my apartment, though.”

  “I’m worried about you using drugs. I know it isn’t easy staying clean.”

  “Then how come you stopped the other?”

  “Because I feel I can trust you not to bring contraband to school. And because—and because it makes me uncomfortable now.”

  “Yeah, well, whatever.”

  The doctor said, “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “Well, why should I be? He can say anything he wants. How do I know if he really means it?”

  “You don’t think I’m being honest?” Baker asked.

  Micki shrugged.

  “Why would I lie?”

  “Maybe you just want me to think you like me now so I won’t try to kill myself again. I’m sure that didn’t go over too well with—with—y’know.”

  “So you think this is all an act? So I’ll look good?” Baker’s voice was rising.

  “Why not?”

  “So yesterday I was only pretending to have a good time?” Shaking his head, he shifted his gaze and stared at the wall. “Jesus, Micki.”

  She looked at him sitting there with his right ankle crossed so casually over his left knee. Cigarette smoke was wafting toward his eyes, and he was squinting slightly as he took another hit. “I dunno, okay?” she shot back. “I dunno anything anymore! How do I know if y’really feel anything?”

  He nodded while he exhaled a large stream of smoke and stubbed out the Camel. Still looking at the ashtray and grinding out the cigarette, he said, “I breathed life back into you.” His voice had come out choked, and he turned his face away.

  Her mouth fell open. Voice so low it could barely be heard, she said, “I just—I—I dunno. You’re only my guardian ’cause y’have to be.”

  Both feet now planted firmly on the floor, he leaned forward so his forearms rested on his knees. “Captain Malone called me this morning. He said I can go back to my squad whenever I want.”

  Lips in a thin line, she averted her gaze, eyes alighting on the doctor’s bookcase and Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams.

  “I told him I’d wait until the school year ended.”

  She turned back. “What?”

  “I think it would be best if I were there until you graduate.”

  She was almost unaware that the question “why?” had escaped her lips.

  He lit another cigarette. “Because you could use some stability in your life.”

  Still looking stunned, she said blankly, “Oh.”

  Lerner asked, “How do you feel about that, Micki?”

  “I dunno,” she replied. “How am I supposed to feel?”

  “Well then, how do you feel about Sergeant Baker?” Lerner asked. “Last time you were both here, you were very angry at him.”

  Micki glanced at Baker, then looked back at Lerner.

  “You were especially angry,” Lerner continued, “about his having had sex with you.”

  Micki took to staring at her hands, which were sitting in her lap.

  “How do you feel now?” the doctor asked.

  There was only the ubiquitous, careless shrug.

  Body tense, Baker smoked.

  “I’d really like you to answer,” the doctor pressed.

  “I—I guess I don’t feel so angry anymore,” Micki said.

  “What’s different?”

  Micki stared out the window. The sky was completely overtaken by clouds. “I dunno. I’m not sure. It all seems so far away now, and—and I don’t think he did it to hurt me.”

  Feeling a familiar stab of pain, Baker closed his eyes.

  But before Micki had a chance to say more, flashes of the previous night’s images returned, and her eyes grew panicked. When she caught Lerner observing her, she felt as though the doctor could see right into her head.

  “Our time is up for today,” Lerner said. “But perhaps you’d like to schedule another appointment this week, Micki?”

  “I have to work.”

  “Perhaps Saturday morning.”

  “It’ll almost be Monday again anyway.”

  “I understand,” the doctor said. “I’ll see you next week, then.”

  Baker looked from one to the other.

  “And I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dr. Lerner said to Baker with a smile.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said, grinding out his cigarette and standing up.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  BUT THE NEXT DAY, Lerner was called away on a family emergency, and Baker ended up badgering Warner for insight into Micki’s odd behavior.

  “For chrissakes, give it up,” Warner finally said. “I can’t answer these questions. You know Micki far better than I do. I may be getting a Ph.D. in psych, but I’m not a friggin’ mind reader.”

  Baker went home, took off his jacket, and went to pour himself a drink. When the liquor cabinet’s door refused to open at his tug, his face filled with astonishment. He straightened up, retrieved his cigarettes, and lit one, smoking fiercely. Then he threw some things in his gym bag and hurried out.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “YOU BETTER THINK THIS through very carefully,” Gould cautioned.

  “I have,” Baker replied. Phone cradled between his head and shoulder, he was about to light a cigarette, then returned it to the pack.

  “Well—you better be one hundred percent sure before you say anything. If you change your mind and take it back, it’s gonna be a million times worse than if you never said anything in the first place.”

  “So you think I should leave things the way they are.”

  Gould sighed. “I can’t answer that. Alls I know is it won’t hurt nothin’ to do nothin’.”

  “I’m thinking about what Micki needs.”

  “You better be thinkin’ about what you need, too.”

  I am, Baker thought.

  “It’s gonna affect you,” Gould continued. “We’re talkin’ major lifestyle change.”

  “Not really.”

  “Jeez, I don’t know. What’s the rush? What’s another week? Wait so’s you can talk to the shrink about this.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Baker said reluctantly.


  Gould’s tone brightened. “Do you realize that, two weeks from today, I’m gonna have been married ten years?”

  “Ten years? Shit!”

  “We’ll be throwin’ a little party the Friday after next. Bring Cynthia if you want. By the way, did you—um—ever return the ring?”

  “I couldn’t. I felt like such an ass.”

  “Lenny’ll still take it back—seein’ hows you’re my partner and all. You know that, right?”

  Baker took a deep breath, “I think I’m going to hold on to it for now.”

  “Yeah? So things are going good, eh?”

  Picturing the grin on Gould’s face, Baker smiled himself. A kid started crying in the background.

  Gould said, “I gotta go but I’ll give you a call in a few days.” And he hung up.

  Baker got a can of Coke, then sat in the dark, drumming his fingers on the armrest of the chair. He wanted to talk. To Micki. He couldn’t explain the sense of urgency. But it wouldn’t go away.

  chapter 37

  MRS. TANDY BURST INTO the security office, a sullen-looking Micki beside her.

  “I’ll call you back, Cyn,” Baker said into the phone. He hung up and extinguished his cigarette.

  “I will not tolerate any violence in my gym classes,” the teacher said. And as Baker stood up, she added, “The slightest provocation and she gets physical.”

  “What happened?” Baker asked evenly.

  “One of the other students—”

  “Rhonda,” Micki interrupted.

  Mrs. Tandy flashed a withering glare at Micki, who then clenched her jaw and stared past Baker. “One of the other students,” Mrs. Tandy began again, “apparently said something Micki didn’t like. Micki shoved the girl so hard she went flying backward halfway across the floor, where she tripped and fell over an exercise mat.”

  With the image of Rhonda falling on her ass still fresh in her mind, Micki had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from laughing.

  The teacher said, “Maybe she thinks that because of that … unfortunate incident last term, I’ll look the other way when she behaves like this. I’m making it clear right now that that is not the case.”

  “I understand,” Baker said. “I assure you it won’t happen again.”

  “It better not, or I’ll have her dropped from the class. Which means”—she turned to Micki—“you won’t graduate in June.”

  The humor vanished from Micki’s face.

  “I’ll see to it this doesn’t happen again,” Baker reaffirmed.

  With a pronounced lift of her chin, the gym teacher turned abruptly on her red-sneakered heel and left.

  The cop and the kid stared each other down, Micki reflecting miserably that certain unpleasant experiences in her life seemed to continually repeat themselves. She noted the rise and fall of Baker’s chest. He looked extremely angry. And disappointed. Actually, that was something new.

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  “What’s the difference.” She turned away, putting her books on his desk.

  He yanked her around. “Answer me. I asked you what happened, and I expect an answer.”

  “Rhonda didn’t think I could hear, but she whispered to Sonya that the only reason a boy would ever go out with me is to fuck me.”

  “Oh, Jesus, Micki; for chrissakes. But she didn’t touch you, did she?”

  “All I did was push her!”

  “What’s it going to take to get it through your head that you can’t go around assaulting people just because you don’t like what they say? Didn’t we go over this already? It wasn’t even that long ago.”

  “I’m not gonna just stand around and listen to that shit.”

  “Then say something back if you can’t walk away. But keep. Your hands. To yourself.”

  She glared at him, then looked out the window.

  “What the hell is the matter with you?” he asked. “Keep this up and you won’t graduate; you could even be expelled. And then what, huh?”

  Stone-faced, she was staring at a dead-looking tree across the street.

  Baker’s expression went dark: she was ignoring him! “You’d better—” But he stopped, eyes growing wide. He reached out and tried to draw her toward him, but she stiffened and resisted. Still holding her by the shoulders, he shook her slightly till she met his gaze. “Do you think,” he asked, his voice low, “that because I’m angry that means I don’t care about you anymore?”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “Do you think,” he continued, heart pounding, “that means I don’t”—he took a deep breath—“love you anymore?”

  Face full of panic, she tried to wrest herself from his grip.

  But he held on tight while the remainder of the words spilled out: “Because I do love you, Micki—like you were my own kid, my own flesh and blood. And I’m only angry because I don’t want to see you make the same mistakes I made.”

  In a sudden burst of noise, a couple of kids ran down the hallway, giggling. Baker let go of Micki, strode over, and shut the door. As he walked back, he asked, “Do you want to know the real reason I’m here instead of with my squad?”

  There was a spark in her eyes.

  “It’s because I couldn’t control my anger. I may’ve been angry for the right reasons, but the things I did were wrong. I”—aware of how closely she was looking at him, he started to sweat—“I actually broke a guy’s jaw once, a perp I had in custody. He was a cold-blooded murderer, a real scumbag. But because of what I did, the entire thing went to shit. In trying to save my ass, the DA’s office let him plead to a nothing sentence.” His eyes bore down into hers. “And I have to live with that.”

  Her brow creased. Deeply.

  “Please, Micki. I don’t want you following in my footsteps. Not like that, anyway. And look at you: you’re so young; you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Don’t fuck it all up.”

  She turned away.

  His shoulders sagged. “I really don’t know what else to say; I really don’t. Y’know, I’m only your legal guardian till you turn eighteen, but—” Micki looked back, and his heart started hammering in his chest again.

  “But what?”

  “Well …”

  “ ‘Well’ what? What’re you gonna tell me? That I have to have a full-fledged parole officer for the rest of my life?”

  “Well, there’ll probably be a lot of legal hurdles, but—but—”

  “But what?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair and heard himself say, “I—I want to adopt you.”

  There was a beat before she said, “You what?”

  Though he felt as though the ground beneath him had fallen away, he heard himself still talking. “At the very least, I want you to think about coming to live with me.”

  “Live with you? How d’ya know y’won’t change y’mind tomorrow? People fall in and outta love all the time, right?”

  Baker caught his breath. “That’s romantic love, Micki. This is different.”

  “Yeah … well … I dunno. I … I dunno …”

  He felt a painful lump in his throat. “Look, I’m not going to pressure you. Take your time and think about it. All I need from you right now is a promise that you’re going to try really hard not to get into trouble like this again.”

  The passing bell rang.

  “You have English class now?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “How’s Mrs. DeGroot?”

  “Better than Newsome.”

  Baker nodded. “Go on, then. I’ll see you later.” But as he watched her leave, he wondered how long it would be till he got his answer.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  THAT NIGHT MICKI HAD a dream:

  She wa
s a little kid. Her father wanted to buy her and the other kids stuff to eat. The other kids were two boys that were her friends, and another girl. But she went to buy herself two cans of Sprite and was upset to see the clerk had opened both without her permission. Not much more than a closet, the store was crammed full of magazines and candy bars, odd novelty items hanging down from the ceiling. She reached into her pocket, proud she had her own money to spend. But while getting out some change, she began to feel strange, as though she was observing herself putting the shiny coins on the counter. The space felt much larger than it had just moments before.

  Back outside, the pavement was baking, the sun so hot the sky was white. She saw that her father and the other kids had gone on top of some sort of double-decker bus that was moving slowly down the street. Alone on the sidewalk, she walked alongside them, noise and people streaming all around in the circus-like atmosphere of Times Square. Then the boys started waving, and she felt she had to wave back—had to smile—as if she were having a good time, like they were all playing the same game. But the boys, joking and laughing, were now wearing motorcycle helmets and superhero costumes as if it were Halloween, while she was still wearing her old T-shirt and shorts.

  Keeping pace with the bus, she continued walking, knowing she was supposed to meet them all at Entertainment World—an “adult” entertainment place. The boys had no idea where they were going—or what it meant. But she did. She knew exactly. Unlike the other kids, who would remain safely on the bus—remain children—she, streetwise and jaded, was already much older than her years. Walking along, she continued to wave, even as she kept a wary eye on the street. She realized she didn’t need to be following the bus to find Entertainment World. She already knew where it was.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  ON FRIDAY, BEFORE MICKI left for work, Baker showed up at her apartment to give her Cynthia’s number again, but this time on a list with several others, including Malone’s and Gould’s.

  “You hold on to these,” he said, raising up the index card and waving it slightly. “I’ll be at Cynthia’s tonight, but I’m not sure for how long. If you need me, try my number first. If you get the answering service, call hers.”

  Distant and dull, Micki’s response was: “Uh-huh.”