Band-aids Over Bullet Wounds

A Change In The Air

         I'd trained in the DEA for six months before I'd been released unto the world.  I'd been a federal policeman for 10 years prior to my transfer to the DEA.   I remember the day like it was yesterday.  Perhaps the best day of my life.  I'd been sitting at my desk, officers scurrying around me, talking on their phones, writing up their own reports, when the Chief approached my desk.  I'd been writing up a reveiwing on a subway shooting in downtown Chicago.  I'd moved into downtown Chicago from the suburbs right after highschool to attend the University of Chicago for the Police Department.  Once I finally graduated into the police force I escalated pretty quickly within my short years.  After my fifth year mark on duty I was promoted to Segeant, and the rest was histroy. 

    I sat there that day looking up at him with big round eyes, shocked at the unexpected visit.  He wasn't even supposed to be in the Chicago division day.  So what was he doing here?
    "Sergeant Nicks, my office," he grumbled moodily at me.
    I didn't need telling twice.  Jumping up, I followed behind him, closing his door behind us with a soft click.
    "It's been a pleasure working with you Sergeant Nicks, but it's time you've moved on," The Chief stood behind his desk, a soft smile on his face as he looked on at me. If it weren't for the smile on his face I would have feared he was firing me.  Yanking off my police hat, I rung it between my hands when a chill ran down my spine
    "I don't understand sir," I mumbled.
    "We're transfering you.  You always said you wanted the DEA didn't you?" As if I was a three year old, he had to annunciate each syllable.  He may have been the head, but good G-D was the man a right prick sometimes.
    "I don't know what to say Sir," I forced down an exuberent smirk. 
    I'd been waiting my whole life for this.  I'd been going through the police motions for ten years just for the chance to be transfered into the DEA divison.  It was my dream to be put into the secert divison called the "Special Operations Divison." Also known as the SOD.  I knew that meant being transfered to Virgina, but for the DEA I was willing to move anywhere.
    "Why don't you go finish that report you're working on.  How long do you need until you'll be ready for the move?  They want you as soon as possible," at this he sat down at his desk, and pointed to the extra seat.
    I sat down, contemplating, and placed my hat in my lap.  I had no wife to hold me down anymore, so the move would be no problem.  My wife had passed away four years ago in a car crash.  I was a 36 year old widower with three children, and it was hard. She had been a nurse, a great one at that too, and a great mother.  But when your smack in the middle of a six person pile up on the highway, no amount of your nursing training is going to do you any good.  She died before she even got to the hospital, leaving behind me, our baby girl- two at the time- who is now six, and our two twin boys- new born then- who are now four.  There had been nothing harder than raising three children under the age of five, alone, and completely devistated at the loss of literally, the love of my life. We'd been childhood sweethearts.  I'd known her since first grade.  When I was in the eighth grade I used to tell all my friends that I would marry her one day.  I kept my promise.  I'd never been with another women, before her, or since.  All I had left of her now was our three children.  I loved them more than life itself, but nothing, and I mean nothing in the world compared to having her safely in my arms.  My baby girl was slowly turning into her spitting image, with her long curly chestnut honey'd hair, and her sweet sea green eyes.  Although, no matter how much she looked like her, she would never be my wife Karen.  It was painfully crippling. Still to this day, four years later.
    I was shattered for months after the accident.  I'd been gone from the police force for two years in and out.  Finally getting back into the fold these past to years, I'd been desperate for the DEA to come calling.  The day had finally come, and I was happy to leave this place behind, to leave all the memories for good. 
    Karen and I had lived in suburban Chicago since we were little.  We made the move out to Chicago university together.  Got married in second year, and lived the life while I was a rugby Champ.  I'd gotten into Chicago U on a rugby scholarship. I'd played all throughout high school, and still played. It aided in making me as big as I was today.  6 foot and thick as anything.  I worked out three times a week, and played rugby competitively.  The force loved me as a foot man because I was in shape- it helped with DEA transfer because they need footmen, they need men to do the dirty work like play the field and infultrate the operations in real life, not behind a police badge. 
    I wasn't going to be those stereotypical officers with a beer belly who ate donuts and coffee on the job.  The rugby playing and working out kept me better than good.  The rugby really was the only thing that kept me semi sane when my whole life had crumbled around me.  This place held too many memories, and I would happy to leave it for good. There was nothing left for me here.
    "I could probably be out by next week." Pausing, I realized my mistake and changed me mind.  I did have three children, who were roudy, and uncooperative at the best of times. There was no way my six year old princess was going to move to Virginia so easily.  All her classmates where here, and she'd put up one hell of a fight to stay with them all. "Actually, maybe longer.  To pack up the whole house is going to take time,"
    "Darren, I don't think you understand.  They want you in the fold as soon as possible. You've got to round up your fifteen children and move as soon as possible.  You've wanted this since the day you stepped into this office."
    "Three," I cut him off.
    "What?" he didn't seemed pleased that not only was I not coperating, but I had cut him off.  Hey, my daughter had to get her attitude from somewhere. 
    "I have three children.  That's it." I replied calmly.
    "Well, when they're all in the same room they're so exuberent it's hard to hear anything but screaming children."
    He was a real tool through and through.  The guy hated kids, and the one time I'd brought mine into the office because I had no choice in the matter, he's never let me live it down since.
    "I'd more than love to go as soon as possible, but sir I know my children.  They'll have something to say about it," I countered.
    "Darren, I'm telling you now.  You have three days to pack up your home, and all your millions of children.  They're expecting you in by Monday morning to start the new week in training.  Six months of training after arrival, and only then will you be put into general rotation," he looked down at the stacks of papers on his desk, listing off my transfer.
     "Hold on sir, we never talked about additional training.  I've been in the police force for ten years.  Why do I need training?"
    To suggest I was angry was an understatement.  I wanted the action, the good stuff.  The only reason I'd ever wanted to join the force was to deal with drug busts.  Now I'd have to wait months to even get in. It was a major disconcern, and I was seriously unhappy.
    "Standard procedure, after the six months you'll have just as high a standard job as you do here."  Well that made me feel better.
    "Thank you sir," I may have hated the man most of the time, but he was a good Chief to say the least.
    "You've got three days to clear that desk Darren.  Now get out of my office before I throw you out." Without looking at me, he dismissed me with a wave of a hand while he surfed his files with his eyes. 
    Standing with the dismissal, I thank him again before leaving.  Half the officers were standing around quiltily, pretending to not have been listening at the door.    
    "Well...?" My partner prompted.
    "I've just been transfered to the DEA," I hadn't meant to scream in ecstacy, but it came out before I could stop it as I jumped my partner, laughing hysterically.
    People always say girls know how to scream, that girls have this uncanny ability to get over excited and loud.  It seemed in that moment that men in the police force would give prepubesent girls a run for their money.  And it was the best feeling in the world.
    I didn't know whose hands belonged to who, or who's screams and cheers were louder, but they riverbreted around me and sent my system in vibrating overdrive.
     In the back of my mind all I could think about was how proud my late wife would have been.  It left a burning hole in the pit of my stomach, and it took all my will power to push the thought away and laugh and cheer with the boys.  I thought about my kids, and I knew my work was cut out for me.
    Strong thick arms snaked around, squeezing tightly, and knocked the air literally right from out of my lungs. My partner, Kevin was hugging me hard.  He'd been my partner for eight years.  He'd been there during everything that happened with Karen- my late wife- and all the nights where we sat up and talking about my dreams of the DEA when we were supposed to be thinking of file processing. He'd been there to help me raise my kids when I couldn't do it by myself. He was a real brother to me.  He was- undoubtably- the only person I'd miss when I had to leave.
    The officers began to disperse, all going back to their work, but Kevin hung on holding me still. 
    "When are you going?" he asked simply.
    "I have three days to wrap everything up," I sighed, the notion hitting me that I had to go and find an apartment, a moving company, and all the time I needed to do this, in three measly days.
    "Oh," Kevin released me, stepping back.  "You better get moving then,"
    "I'm going to need some serious help."
    I didn't need to say more than that to him.  Kevin was the best friend anyone could ask for.  Three hours later while I was putting the finishing touches on my final report he came over with three possible apartment options, a moving company picked out already, six different preschool choices, and muliptle elementry school options.
    I was so grateful I could almost kiss him.  Almost.
    *
    "Come on baby, we need to get moving or we're going to loose the big white truck with all our stuff in it,"
    The movers were milling in and out, carrying all our boxes.  The truck wasn't finished yet, but if I didn't get my daughter to get all her stuff, and herself in the car already, we'd never leave.   It was still early morning Sunday. I wanted to beat morning traffic, plus we had a good 12 hours to kill until we got to Virginia.
    "But daddy," Her sweet voice floated back to me from behind a handful of all her dolls that she didn't want to part with.  "The big truck hasn't left yet,"
    She was smart for a six year old, and I just loved her to pieces.
    "I know Mac and Cheese.  Put them in the box, and lets seal it up." My daughters name was Mckennzie Nicks.  My wife had come up with the nickname mac and cheese.  Whenever I used it, it reminded me painfully of my wife.  I missed her.  In every milestone the kids climbed, it just made me miss her more.  I stiffled an eye roll as my daughter took her sweet time.  We had to leave soon, and my daughters room was still a disastor.  She'd thrown a tantrum that morning and refused to pack all her dolls.  After I made pancakes for her she'd suddenly complied nicely.  I didn't like bribing my kids, but when they threw tantrums at 5 am, I was cornered.
    "But daddy-" She was cut off when my two twin boys Sammy and Noah came barreling in.
    They were feternal, one looked like a miniture version of me.  Noah had my dark brown straight hair that stuck up in every direction, and the startling green eyes that Mckennzie and him shared, which were inherited from their mother; while Sammy, like Mckennize, had Karen's dirty blonde curls, and my soft hazel eyes.  Sometimes in the trick of the light they looked like honey brown, and sometimes they were as green as the tree tops.
    "Daddy, Kevin's at the door," Noah clung to my leg, wiping his nose on my pant leg. Noah was the clinger twin.  Don't get me wrong, they were both extremely clingy, but Noah was on a whole different level.  I thought I had given them so much love as babies, always holding them close and cuddling them.  Perhaps I hadn't given Noah enough...
    "Sorry if this is a bad time," Kevin pocked his head in bedroom door, smiling shyly.  Kevin was a solid 5 foot 6 guy, with a femainiely chiseled face, deep brown eyes, and a bald head.  I questioned any times in the span of time we'd known each other if he was rooting for the other team.  I'd never had the gall to bring it up though, and wondered if I'd spend the rest of my life questioning his sexuality. "I just wanted to stop by one last time,"
    Detached himself from my leg, Noah flung himself at Kevin's as he walked into the room.  "Kevin, you come with?"
    "I can't come with big guy.  My job is here," Kevin crouched down to Noah's level, to pick him up while Sammy saundered over to me, reaching his hands up to be held.
    "You'll get a new job like daddy," That made us both chuckled as I scooped up Sammy, situating him on my hip. 
    "I can't buddy. I'm sorry," Kevin replied.
    Noah just sighed dramatically, dropping his head on Kevin's shoulder and let out tortured whimper.  I tired not to laugh at my son as I diverted my attention back to my daughter who was dropping her dolls in her box one by one. 
    "The men are done in the trunk I think," Kevin pipped up.
    "Oh ya?" I stood, still watching Mckennzie. My goodness did she look like Karen.  It was haunting.
    "Ya.  Go ahead man, I'll watch the little trouble makers,"
    "Thanks bud,"
    Then I was out in the hall, forgetting that Sammy was still in my arms, but realizing now that he was I held him a little closer and tighter.  He dropped his head on my shoulder and touched my face with his free hand that wasn't clinging to the back of my shirt as I walked down the hall.
    "Daddy, why do we have to go?" His innocent voice was so palatable and enjoyable to listen to.  It was my favrioute part to Sammy.  If this kid talked forever, I didn't know if I'd mind so much.
    "Because daddy got his dream job in Virginia.  That's going to be our new home now.  You're going to love it so much." I dragged my hand through his beautiful chestnut curls, as I took the stairs slowly.
    "Really?" Sammy whispered softly into my ear.
    "Really, really," I nodded, kissing his head for good meassure.
    "Kevin?" He perked up, pushing on me to get a good veiw.
    "Sorry bug, he can't come.  He'll visit.  I know he will," I was still talking to my little guy just as I came out of the front door to see the truck driver closing the back door.
    "That's everything," one of the workers suddenly appeared beside me.
    "Great.  Thanks man." Slapping my free hand with his, we shook on it.
    "We're gonna head out in a few.  We've got the address. We plan to be there no later than 10 tonight.  Should be there eariler." The young mover nodded.
    "We'll follow along soon, when everything is finished up."
    "You've got nothing major left?" He asked last minute.
    "Actually yes.  In one of the rooms is a box, that my daughter should be sealing up right now.  I'll bring it down."
    Sammy and I turned around- he had been eerily quiet the whole time- and raced back into the house and up the stairs.  When I came into Mckennzie's room Kevin, Mckennzie, and Noah were all taping up the box, laughing when Kevin taped his mouth to make them laugh.  I dropped Sammy to the ground and he automatically clung to my sweatpants leg.  I guess he was a clinger today too.
    I took the box from them, and left them all in the room as I raced it back downstairs.  I handed it off, and the boy took it gladly.  I watched them as they finished loading everything, and hop into the truck. I watched them pull out of the driveway, taking the contents of my life along with it.
    "Daddy, Princess Margeret was in that box," I spun on my heel to see Mckennzie walking up behind me, reaching up to take my hand.  Princess Margeret was her stuffed bunny rabbit that I had perchised at the hospital the day she was born.  She slept with it every night.  I knew it wasn't in that box.  I'd left it on her care seat in the car because I knew she'd cry over it.
    "No Mac and cheese.  He's in the car." Kevin and the boys came down the stairs just as I spoke.
    "I was scared he was gone daddy," She looked up at me with shining eyes.  She was so sweet, I just couldn't get enough.
    "No baby.  Daddy is going to take care of everything," I picked her up, and together we all went back inside to finish loading our car.
    Funny the irony in that one statement.
    Four years ago I had no idea how to handle three roudy and loud children by myself.  Like times does to us, over the spans of months since, I'd forgotten what it felt like to share the responsibilty.  My children where mine, and I was the only one that took care of them.  I didn't remember what it felt like to share, and for now I was content with that.