“It’s a very sweet story. I’m so sorry you lost him the way you did. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.”
“Worst day of my life.”
Without thinking much about it, I reach over and cover her hand with mine, giving a gentle squeeze. The second my skin connects with hers, I realize I’ve made a critical error by touching her.
The subtle gasp that escapes from her lets me know she feels the same thing I do.
Even knowing all the reasons why it’s a bad idea to leave it there, I don’t remove my hand. “You don’t have to talk about it if it’s too painful.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Still . . . Some things never get easier with time.”
“True.” After a long pause, she releases a long deep breath. “I was working at the restaurant when the cops came. At first, I thought it was him. He would pop by to say hello sometimes when he was on duty. He worked second shift, three to eleven, so our work hours were the same. There were two cops, and I remember looking around them to see if he was with them. They said something to my dad, and he . . . He just crumbled.” After another pause, she continues. “I think I knew Tony was gone the second I saw my dad’s reaction from across the big room.”
“God, Carmen. I can’t imagine.”
“It was pretty horrible, but we were very well supported. The department was amazing. They took care of everything. That first week was just a blur of people and food and so much heartbreak. The restaurant became the gathering place for everyone, and it went on for days. It seemed like half the city passed through before the actual wake and funeral were held. Thousands of police officers came from all over the country. It was so amazing and overwhelming.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s not much to be said. My grandmothers, who are both widows, were incredible. They helped me find a way through the grief. It took a while, but I bounced back. I thought he’d approve of me going to school since I wasn’t going to be a stay-at-home mother after all, and I didn’t want to waitress for the rest of my life. Although, I made a very decent living at the restaurant.”
“He’d be so proud of you. I’m proud of you, and I just met you.”
“Thanks. I like to think he’d be proud that I survived it. He loved me so much. I never had any doubt about that.”
“He was lucky, and he knew it. Smart man.”
“We were both lucky.”
“Did he always want to be a cop?”
“From the time he was twelve and did a ride-along with a friend’s dad who was a cop. He never deviated from that plan. We even waited to get married until he’d completed his training. It’s comforting to know he was doing exactly what he loved when he died.”
“I’m glad you are able to see it that way.”
“There’s no other way to look at it, really.”
The GPS directs us to the address Deb gave me, and I finally release my hold on Carmen’s hand as I find a visitor parking space. “We don’t have to do this now if you’re not up to it.”
She smiles warmly at me, making the breath catch in my lungs. Affection of any kind from her feels like a rare, special gift. “You’re just hearing about this. For me, it’s old news.”
“I suppose it is.”
“Not that it has ever reached the point where it doesn’t still hurt. It just doesn’t hurt like it did at first, when it was an open wound making me wonder if my life was over, too.”
Is it weird that I hurt for her? Probably. The ache stays with me as we go inside and take the elevator to the seventh floor where Deb is waiting for us. My emotions are all over the place after hearing Carmen’s story. She’s certainly helped to give me perspective on my current predicament.
So what if my career is a mess at the moment? No one is dead. It’s sobering to realize the full magnitude of what she went through at the tender age of twenty-four. I try to picture her surrounded by people and police officers and compassion and endless sympathy. After having known her for only two days, I have little doubt she was strong and resolute through it all, determined to make her