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<br><br><center>*Desire is an unfulfilled need that slowly degrades the soul* </center>

<br><br>I'm a cop struggling with my own pain. My partner died when he took a slug pushing me out of harm’s way.

Now, I’ve got a new partner—Carol Baker, but the pain’s back again in a different way—last night, she told me she loved me.

And tonight, she's been taken for a ride by a perp who kills women who look exactly like her.



<br><br>On the radio, I hear the crackle of excited chatter as cops relay instructions and start a pursuit.

Our unmarked car is nearby and I jump in and head for the south side, for the maze of alleys where the guy usually takes his victims.

My heart’s pounding in my ears and I’m shouting to the air:

*What the hell are ya doin’ Carol? How can ya be so goddamn stupid?*

<br><br>I blow through two intersections and as I’m passing Pine, I happen to spot a brown sedan turning a corner, half way up the street. I do a screeching U-turn and roar back to the spot.

Sure enough, it’s a blind alley and poorly lit. I see the car parked at the end with its lights off.

I don’t bother with stealth—I floor the accelerator and slam on the brakes just behind the sedan.

<br><br>Carol’s out the door with this guy all over her and I just run full force and slam into him with all my might.

The guy goes down and I go down—I can’t see anything but white stars, falling softly in the grayness.

When I’m able to focus, I hear Carol barking out commands and see the guy laying face down, his hands cuffed behind his back.

<br><br>I get up too quickly and stagger sideways—she grabs me and holds me up.

I look into haunted eyes, desperate and lost.

Back at the precinct, after debriefing, the perp is booked and it’s all over but the backslaps and jibes. It all washes over me.

<br><br>I look for Carol and she’s back in blue jeans and tight white sweater, strangely looking more sensual than in her hooker garb.

“You okay?” I ask, brushing a stray strand of blonde hair from her forehead.

She grabs my hand and holds tight, staring intently, as if asking a question that can never be asked.

<br><br>She wants to sell what cannot be sold. I want to own what cannot be owned.

I want so badly to gather her into my arms—the lost little girl with the huge mascara eyes—but I don’t.

I walk out to my car and drive home—my mind absolutely empty.

<br><br>I get into bed and lie beside Jilly. I hear her measured breath and see Carol’s huge mascara eyes.

In the morning, I’m up again, this time watching rain and sitting closer to the fire.

There’s truth in silence, when you take the time to think. I’m not a great thinker, but sometimes I can get pretty profound.

I’m thinking this morning, that adding is sometimes subtracting.

<br><br>I think of Jilly, our struggles and pain, and it grieves in me a song more dismal than the sparrows’ protest to the freezing rain.

We’re not perfect—either of us. Together, sometimes we can barely cope.

But I want that baby fluttering inside her...and I want my kids and Jilly—stretch marks and all.

<br><br>It may not be lovely, it may not be perfect, but we struggled for it and paid it off.

It’s our life to keep—the five of us.

The kids and me and Jilly Bean.

<br><br><center>© 2017, John J Geddes. All rights reserved</center>

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