She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, as though debating how best to answer before finally offering a shrug. “Oh, you know. I met a boy in college. He was from here, and I made the move after I graduated. And here I am.”
“I take it that it didn’t work out.”
She closed her eyes before opening them again. “Not the way I wanted.”
The words came out quietly, but it was hard to read the emotion behind them. Regret? Resentment? Sadness? Figuring it wasn’t the time or place to ask, I let the subject drop. Instead, I shifted gears. “What was it like growing up in a small town? I mean, I thought New Bern was small, but 2,500 is tiny.”
“It was wonderful,” she replied. “My mom and dad knew just about everyone in town, and we left our doors unlocked. I knew everyone in all my classes, and I’d spend my summers riding my bike and swimming in the pool and catching butterflies. The older I get, the more I marvel at the simplicity of it.”
“Do you think your parents will live there forever?”
She shook her head. “No. A few years ago, they bought a place in Atlantic Beach. They already spend as much time there as they can, and I’m pretty sure that’s where they’ll end up when they finally retire. We actually had Thanksgiving there last year, and it’s just a matter of time now.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“How did you end up working for the sheriff’s department?”
“You asked me that before.”
“I’m still curious,” I said. “Because you didn’t really answer.”
“There’s not much to say about it. It just kind of happened.”
“How so?”
“In college, I majored in sociology, and after I graduated, I realized that unless I wanted to get my master’s or a PhD, there weren’t a lot of jobs in my field. And when I moved here, it became clear that unless you own a business or have a job at Cherry Point or work for the government or the hospital, you’re limited to service jobs. I thought about going back to school to become a nurse, but at the time, it seemed like too much effort. Then, I heard the sheriff’s department was hiring and on a whim, I applied. I was as surprised as anyone that I was accepted into the training program. I mean, to that point in my life, I’d never even held a gun. And that’s what I thought it would be like—bad guys, dangerous situations, shoot-outs—it’s all about the gun, right? That’s what they show on television, anyway, and that’s all I knew. But once I got in, I quickly figured out that it was more about people skills. It’s about defusing situations and calming emotions whenever possible. And, of course, paperwork. Lots of paperwork.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“It’s like any job, I guess. There are parts about it I like, and other parts that I don’t. You occasionally experience things that you wish you hadn’t. Gut-wrenching things you can’t forget.”
“Have you ever shot someone?”
“No. And I’ve only had to draw my gun once. Like I said, it’s not what you see on television. But you know what?”
“Do tell.”
“Even though I’d never held a gun, I ended up being a pretty good shot. Top in my class, in fact. And since then, I’ve taken up skeet shooting and sporting clays, and I’m pretty good at those, too.”
“Sporting clays?”
“It’s like skeet—there are various stands and you use a shotgun—but the clays come from differing angles, with differing speeds and trajectories. It’s supposed to more accurately reflect the way birds and small game move in the wild.”
“I’ve never been hunting.”
“Neither have I. And I don’t want to. But if I ever did, I’d probably be pretty good.”
I couldn’t help but feel a bit of admiration for her. “It’s actually not that hard to imagine you with a shotgun. Since the first time I saw you, you were armed, I mean.”
“I find it…relaxing. When I’m at the range, I’m able to tune everything else out.”
“I hear massages are good for that. Personally, I prefer yoga.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You do yoga?”
“My psychiatrist’s recommendation. It’s helpful. I can now put on my shoes without having to sit down. It makes me popular at parties.”
“I’ll bet.” She laughed. “Where do you do yoga around here?”