A Couple of Years of Gardening (Chapter 2) (standard:romance, 2113 words) [2/10] show all parts
Author: kmr412002	Added: Oct 29 2006	Views/Reads: 2580/1760	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The courtship and marriage of a detective as told by his wife.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

“Why should you be sorry?” 

“Because nobody should have to Katee with the knowledge that this kind
of thing goes on in this world.” 

“You shouldn't either.” 

“It's my job.  Nina, I'm sorry about the getting laid remark.  You don't
deserve that.  I wasn't making up the story about the pictures.” 

“I know.” 

“My shift's almost up. I've got to go.”  He hangs up abruptly and I'm
left staring at the receiver. 

The next day is Kate's birthday and we decide to meet up with some of
her co-workers.  I'm not surprised when Jack doesn't show up.  Kate 
said he is still busy at work.  I can tell that's not the whole story.  
I tell her, “He called a couple of nights ago and told me about the 
girl in the pictures.” 

She leans back in her chair and studies me for a second.  There's that
glint in eyes which probably mirrors the resentment that Jack felt 
toward me.  I'm sure that they believe there's no way I can understand, 
and they're right.  I can't and I tell her so. “I have no idea what it 
must feel like.  Kate, I didn't know what to say when he told me.” 

“It's not just that, Nina.  The only reason I know anything about those
pictures is because I see them on his desk and then he gets in one of 
those shitty moods.  We all have something like that, if not in our 
desks, in the back of our minds.  I'm glad he could finally share it 
with someone.” 

I hold up my hand and say, “Kate, it's your birthday.  Let's not talk
about this. 

A couple of weeks later, I'm waiting at Kate's desk to take her to
dinner. I can see Jack and Megan across the precinct room involved in a 
very animated conversation. I can't tell from this distance if they are 
fighting or not. No matter, because I suddenly make myself very busy by 
digging in my bag. I hear movement by her desk and look up to tell Kate 
to hurry up because I'm starving. 

Jack is actually rearranging things on her desk. I stop short and stare
up at him. He glances briefly at me and continues shifting papers 
around. He says quietly as he stares at a handful of files, “How are 
you, Nina?” 

“I'm fine. What do you need, Jack?” 

“I really don't need anything. I'm just stalling for time because I
wanted to apologize for standing you and Kate up at the Laurel a couple 
of weeks ago.” 

“It really wasn't a for sure thing. We were sorry we missed you.” 

“Are you sorry?” 

“Yea, sure. We figured you got tied up at work.” 

“Not really.  I didn't think it would be a good idea.” 

“Why?” 

“I kept thinking of what I would see in your eyes after telling you
about that girl. I kind of left myself wide open and I thought— 

I hear Megan calling for Jack. She's coming up the hallway whining about
being late. 

I say quickly, “A friend.” 

He squints and says, “What?” 

“A friend, Jack. You would see a friend.” 

“Yea, but what about—“ 

I hold up my hand to stop him. “A friend,” He grabs a blank memo pad and
waves it at Megan as she stops into the room. He stuffs it in his 
pocket and grabs her elbow as they hurriedly leave.   I marvel at hard 
we both work at maintaining this disconnect. 

Kate let me borrow her car so I could attend a meeting on Long Island. I
am supposed to meet her in front of a NYPD gym in Manhattan. As I'm 
walking up the steps, Jack is coming down. He tells me she's just 
coming out. He makes a move as to go on down the steps.  And then he 
stops as if he forgot to tell me something. We stand on the steps 
chatting when I notice a slight bruise on his cheek bone. I point to it 
and say, “Quite a workout?” 

“I box every once and a while.” 

All of a sudden, a bulldog looking man of about sixty burst through the
front doors and starts down the steps. Jack calls after him, “See you 
next week, Nick.” 

The man quickly turns around and starts up the steps toward Jack. Nick
is vigorously shaking his head and abruptly turns to me, “Hey, Missy, 
keep your boyfriend home. It's breaking my heart to see him in the 
ring. Pretty lady like you, and he spends his spare time getting his 
ass kicked.” 

Nick throws back his head and laughs as he goes down the steps to
disappear into a cab. 

I turn to Jack and mouth the word boyfriend as I grimace and shake my
head. I raise my eyebrows and say, “That's incredibly ironic.” 

“What do you mean?” “Look, maybe I'm wrong.  I don't know what I've
done, but I've pissed you off.  You don't like me.” 

“What?” 

“You don't like me.  When I meet Kate for drinks, I always just miss
you.  When I visit her at work, you leave your desk like you have 
something incredibly important to do.” 

“Nina, I never meant to –-.” 

His cell rings and he studies his phone for second before he answers it.
He turns his back and says tersely, “I'm on my way.” 

He quickly hangs up and he says, “I'm sorry. It's been a hell of a day.”


“Apology accepted.” 

“I bet you didn't know I was a golden gloves champ?” 

I shake my head. 

"Hey, I was East Trenton Y Golden Gloves Champ, three years in a row." 

I smile a little, and he says, “You don't believe me?" 

He digs out his wallet and hands me a worn and creased photo. It's a
slightly blurred picture of two teenagers arm in arm. The boy is tall, 
all arms and legs and has a pair of boxing gloves draped over his 
shoulders. He's holding a small trophy in one hand. The girl is a foot 
shorter, but has that same kind of gangly build. Their opposing 
shoulders are slightly angled toward the camera, as if they were just 
huddled in private conversation, and look slightly irritated at being 
interrupted. 

"That's you?" 

He nods, "With my sister. I was never very good. Never really liked the
sport." 

"Then why did you take it up?" 

"Maybe it was much cooler to say you got a black eye because you got
your ass kicked in the ring, rather than at home." 

All I can say to that is, "Oh, Jack." 

We are silent for a moment. Then I say, “Why do you keep boxing if you
don't like it?” 

“Maybe it's easier, Nina, than --.” 

Something makes me turn around and I see Kate looking at us sitting at
the bottom of the steps.  She says, “Jack, we're going for some dinner. 
Want to come?” 

Before he can say anything, his cell rings once again.  He looks at it
and says, “It's Megan. I'm late already.” 

I tell him, “You better let her know you're on your way.” 

He turns his back to take the call. Afterwards, he says his goodbyes,
and then turns to me and says, “It wasn't that bizarre, was it?”   
Before, I can say anything, he hurries down the street. 

Kate gives me puzzled look. “What was that about?” I shrug my shoulders
as I slip the picture he forgot into my bag. 

During the next few days, I occasionally take this picture out and look
at it. I don't know what exactly I am looking for. Most of the time, 
it's those solemn eyes that draw my attention. I think those eyes just 
don't belong to the tough guy I know. 

I can't sleep. I got a postcard from Garrett. We had been together for
nearly two years. The last time I saw him was nearly a year ago. He was 
on his way to Bopal, India. He made his Kateing as photojournalist and 
was very excited about this assignment, so I didn't expect him to 
notice or even care this was probably the last time he would leave my 
apartment. It surprised me when he asked me one last time to leave with 
him. It was in that teasing manner and more like a dare than any 
heartfelt request. I think that just about characterized our entire 
relationship. 

Heartfelt. That's what so many of my friends said my problem was. My
problem with men was that I was expecting that, looking for that. Who 
did that anymore?  Everybody made fun of me. Except, of course, Kate. 

This postcard is to let me know he is in just got back to the states and
has reconciled with his ex-wife. They share a lovely home on the beach 
on the west coast. I really don't feel anything but relief. I don't 
have to be something I'm not; feel something I don't. I must be a 
terribly cold person. All he expected was for me to let him know he was 
the one. The one.  Despite the other women, he was a nice guy, so Nina, 
you must be one unfeeling bitch. No sleep for you. 

I get up and look through my bag intending to pull out that postcard.
Instead, I pull Jack's picture out and study it for an unhealthy amount 
of time. I turn on my computer and scanner. At first, I just want to 
enlarge it to get a better look at it. Then I do what I spend a lot of 
my work time doing, touching up, sharpening the images, erasing the 
creases.  I print it out, study it once again, and slip both the 
original and the copy into an envelope 


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