“…miracle weight loss…” “…Jenner transition…” “19 Kids and Counting cancelled…” “…Kardash…”
“Hi honey, how was your day at work?” I ask my husband as he enters our living room. He looks at me with those exhausted eyes after a 16 hour day at work.
“It is so crazy! I see the same thing every day…these kids getting into trouble, the parents calls us because they can’t control them and they want us to scare them straight, which I refuse to do. They say the teachers are not doing their jobs, but really they are afraid of these kids.” I watch as he drops his shoes and plops on the couch. “There are bullet holes in their walls, they know who did, but won’t tell us because they are not “rats”. How am I supposed to do my job if they don’t talk to me, but I am supposed to go find their kid in a neighborhood where people have illegal guns and hate me. As I am walking around, people are yelling “pig”, they say I’m harassing them, as if I had nothing better to do. It turned out, the kid wasn’t missing, he was just hanging out, trying to get away to cool off after a fight he had with his parents.”
I sigh and say “I told you not to take this job! I hate it!!! I don’t care about who needs help, I care about you coming home! I worry about you, you have too good of a heart, always want to help…but people don’t care, they just see you as some jerk in uniform, they see you as a racist just because of the color of your skin AND your uniform!!! They don’t know who your wife is and they spit when you walk by, they yell ugly things at you…” I feel the anger boil…the tears from my fear of losing him…he senses my fury..
“I help a lot of people, you know…that little girl that was hiding in the closet when her house was being robbed, she gave me a hug and was so happy to see me, she was so scared, poor thing.” He knows I have a soft spot for children.
“So?” I am not giving in so easily, I still hate his job. “Quit your job, we’ll sell the house, we’ll both work…get a small house in the south, close to the beach…please?!?” That’s it, my heart done squeezed the tears out.
“My love, this is who I am…my life has meaning…I help people, there is more good than bad in this world, I just get to see the bad every day. People need help…who is going to do it if I don’t?” He’s serious.
“Batman, Superman…I don’t care as long as it’s not you!” I say crossing my arms to show that I still don’t care. And of course he puts his arms around me now, making the tears flow more like a river. I know my face is blotchy and I can’t breath through my nose.
“You are being stubborn. 15 more years until I can retire-“
“That is if you’re not DEAD!!! Look at the rioting, the way people talk, LOOK AT ALL THE INJURIES YOU’VE GOTTEN FROM YOUR JOB…YOUR NECK…ALL OF THE TIME YOU MISSED OF THE KIDS BECAUSE YOU ARE IN PAIN!!! THINGS ARE GETTING WORST!!! I realize I am borderline yelling because I am so scared, scared he won’t come home from work one of these days, scared that I’d have to explain to the kids why daddy is not coming home, afraid that I will have to spend the rest of my life alone…without the man that showed me that I am someone worth loving, that I will die from a broken heart. I take a deep breath. “You are getting hurt by people that are hurting other people-“
“That I stop from hurting other people.” He says calmly…but my fear has no limit.
“For 5 minutes, because the judges always let them out.” I spat at him…
“It takes a second to pull a trigger…I take guns off the streets…I have to believe that I am saving someone to make this worth it. Would you rather me quit my job and do something meaningless to me and be unhappy?”
“I don’t help people-“
“People like me, need people like you to keep on.”
“I hate your stupid job…” I say knowing I’m not going to win this…”Please…just…be safe.” I’m defeated.
“Don’t do anything alone!”
“Be last at gun calls.”
“Can’t promise you that.”
“Always wear your seatbelt!”
“That, I can promise!!!” He says knowing I’m almost done with my checklist.
“Take the calls to help the old people.”
“You know I do.”
(One time he took this lady to the hospital, promised her he’d feed her cat, which he did, visited her, they even called him right before she died, he went to see her and she died right after he left.) Being out of things to make him promise, I finally say…”Please promise me you’ll always come home to me.”
He knows I take promises seriously, and he promised me he’ll always come home to me, so that means he can’t die while working because he’s going to be safe, because the world needs good people like him. He has to come home now… he promised.
“What were you looking at?” He asks knowing I am obsessing over his job in my head.
“Just the news…nothing important.” and just like that, the conversation is over.
This began as a #BlogBattle story in which
the word of the week is NEWS.
Not knowing if it is suitable for younger readers I will not submit the story.
Thank you for reading!!!