Worth the Reward

FEBRUARY: CHAPTER 1

IT FELT GOOD to be back in the driver's seat of my patrol car. There was authority here. Power. Obligation. And the cozy comfort of my own personal suffering.

A week camping in the Colorado mountains was a nice break from reality, but sooner or later, you've got to come back to the old grind. Settle back into the routine. Live the dream.

It had been a good morning so far. My six A.M. run was energizing. The shower following, relaxing. Traffic had been slow as I drove to my favorite sitting spot –a small section of four lane on the highway north of town. The goal wasn't really to pull anyone over, but to gently remind drivers -with the sight of the patrol car alone- to stay within speed limit. Fifty-five MPH. But honestly, it was Monday morning. People were on their way to work. I wouldn't pull anyone over unless they were pushing eighty.

I pulled my phone from my back pocket and looked at it for a moment before placing it in the cup holder off to the side. I wondered if I should call the Captain; I wouldn't be surprised if he forgot that I was back on duty today.

But instead, I grabbed the apple I'd brought from home, settled into my seat and flipped open the computer to scan through the last week's incident logs.

I took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed.

Full logs. I'd sift through all that later.

I sighed, went to take another bite of the apple. Eyed it with discontent. What I wouldn't do for a donut with white icing...

A buzzing to my right drew my attention back to my phone.

And I froze. The apple slipped from my hand, bounced in my lap, then rolled casually to the floor mat as I stared at the name lit up on the screen- a name I hadn't seen since the December before last.

LUCY C.

A wave of different emotions crashed over me. Surprise. Fear. Embarrassment. Shame. Anger. I was spiraling, deeper and deeper in the dark, dangerous waters. I was drowning in them.

All while the phone buzzed monotonously in the cup holder.

How many times had I tried to call her? How many miserable, drunken voice messages had I left, begging her to call me back?

Please talk to me, Luce. Just call me back and we can figure this out. I still love you. Please don't leave me, Luce. I need you. Please, please, please.

How humiliating.

It'd been over a year and I'd never heard a word from her. So why now? Why was she calling me now?

The screen went dark. The buzzing stopped. And I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

"We need to talk."

She sounded bored, uninterested. I didn't think anything of it.

"What is it?"

"I'm leaving you."

The screen lit up again and I dreaded seeing the voicemail or text message notification, but no... this was worse. She was calling again.

LUCY C.

For years, her name in my phone had been Loose. It was a stupid, vulgar joke between her and I that stopped being funny the exact moment she confessed that she'd been cheating on me with multiple partners.

I didn't want to talk to her. I'd spent months in worse places than Hell trying to get over her. And thankfully, I'd done it. I could honestly say that I didn't love her anymore. I often questioned if I ever did.