Ten-Dollar Bill

The Fire Service and Ambulance Service joined in with the procession of police cruisers, motorbikes and people, taking up the entire road to the church. Watching the local news later that evening showed me just how extensive the procession was. I'm not sure anything moved around the church grounds for the entire length of the funeral that was broadcast to those outside via speakers surrounding the church.

*******

I found myself thinking about Officer Hobbs from time to time. A police cruiser would pass me as I walked around town and remind me of those events or sometimes something on the news did and I would wonder how she was doing.

Turning over a new page on my monthly calendar reminded me that it was now six weeks since I had visited the park and the longest I had ever gone without thinking of my late wife. I'm not sure if Becky would be proud or angry with me for doing that. She had always been the positive one between us, so I just smiled and decided that she would be happy that, although I still thought about her, I was actually moving on. Tomorrow was Saturday and the park as well as our bench would get a visit, even if it was just to update Becky on what's been going on in my life.

A woman was sitting on our bench, which was a first for me and left me uncertain what I should do. Well, I had made the journey here so I decided I might as well sit and see if the woman would leave. My surprise was real when the woman turned her head to look at me. It was odd seeing Officer Hobbs in civilian clothes and without sunglasses. She had the saddest puppy dog eyes imaginable and I truly felt for her.

I had seen that same pain in my mirror for so much time, as I wrestled with my loss. And now those eyes that stared back at me showed she was where I was some few months ago. Officer Hobbs was in trouble and that worried me greatly. Something last night had sent me to this very spot, Becky perhaps. The time for speculation wasn't now. Looking at this woman worried me greatly; she was closer to that edge than I had ever been.

Acting on instinct I pulled out my wallet and placed a ten-dollar bill between us. She looked and tried so hard to smile.

"I can't swim, Nathan. It would be so easy. I understand now."

A little over two months ago I was where Officer Hobbs was. With the death of her partner her whole world had taken one heck of a knock, and now she has realized that she's not indestructible. The night in the alley was a wake-up call for her and she's still coming to terms with it, made harder now because of the death of Daniel Stewart.

When she placed her own cuffs on me all those weeks ago, it made me realize that that path wasn't the one my late wife wanted for me; Becky really would have killed me for even thinking it. Officer Hobbs stood on that same precipice. The loss of her partner would have equaled the same loss I had with Becky. I'm not a shrink, just some Joe off of the street, but I couldn't leave her here, thinking such dark thoughts.

"It's said in some cultures that, when you save someone's life, you are now responsible for them. Come by my place tomorrow, the complex has a pool and I'll teach you how to swim."

Standing confused her, even more so when I left the ten-dollar bill still sitting on the

bench.

When I turned to leave, assuming that if she didn't have my address she could easily find it, I heard the single word: "Why?"

A thousand and one reasons all vied to be the answer, in the end I said. "Because, Becky would want me to."

I'm sure she would have wanted me to expand on that statement. Damned if I knew what I could say to either explain my reasoning or even my intentions. That answer was the one that stood out amongst the many. I just hoped it was enough for now, although I added a silent prayer to Becky to look after my new-found friend as I walked to my car and left. The urge to see if it had worked was there. The knowledge that sometimes it's left to the individual to make that first step on their own meant I just couldn't look back.

*******

At ten the next morning there was a knock at the door. I think I hid my relief rather well to be honest. She didn't look so...haunted.

"You neglected to tell me where you lived, Nathan."

I smiled as I stood to one side and let her in. "Your cruiser was parked behind my car when we first met; you would have run my plate before you sat beside me on the bench. If you missed that opportunity, which I doubt, you're a police officer; that makes you resourceful."

Watching her walk in and check my place out amused me.

"Nice place, Nathan."

She accepted my offer of coffee and sat by the breakfast bar and watched while I made her one.

Once I placed it in front of her, I held out my hand and said. "I refuse to continue to call you Officer Hobbs for the rest of my life, so, Nathan."

Her cheeks went a cute shade of red when I came at her from such an angle. Her hand went to mine and we shook. "Dianne," was her only reply; I guess she was going to make me work for the rest of it.

"You didn't bring a bathing suit?"

She picked up her coffee and slowly walked over to the window to take in the view.

"I'm wearing it. I figured since I'm your guest it would be down to you to supply a towel."

This time I sat on the couch while her attention was on the view out the window. She would sip her coffee from time to time, but she wouldn't look at me.

"Do you want to talk about it? I'm just a guy, Dianne, not a shrink, but you need to talk."

She turned to look at me. "Who are you?"

I wasn't ready for this.

"I'm an architect."

"Bullshit." Her cheeks colored and her eyes burned with so much mistrust. "You kill a man twice your body weight, then disarm another in two moves. Hell, you even had him on the ground in three. Who are you, Nathan?"

Judging by the look I got shrugging my shoulders, I was pissing her off. I poured gas on the fire when I again said, "I'm just an architect."

Dianne placed her cup on the table in front of me, placed her hand into a pocket and pulled something out, placed it on the table next to the cup and left. The ten-dollar bill slowly unfolded next to the warmth of her coffee cup. I watched it unfold as I heard the door click shut.

Yes, indeed, that went very well. With a sigh I picked up the cups to wash them and silently berated myself for not going into more details, about my father training me sure would have been a good start.

*******

It was a week later that I met Dianne again; she was sitting in her car, right next to mine in the company parking lot.

"Afternoon, Dianne."

"Afternoon, Nathan." Her discomfort was obvious. "Nathan, we need to talk and I need to apologize."

I leaned against my car while I looked down at her. "You have nothing to apologize about, Dianne, but, by all means, follow me home and I'll fix something for us to eat while we talk. I assume you are going to stay longer than two sips of coffee this time?"

The flash of anger was quickly followed by her cheeks going a shade of pink before she nodded her head at me.

"What can I say, Nathan, I may be a brunette, but I sometimes the red-head in me sneaks out."

I was still laughing as I got into my car. She left the lot first; so much for following me home. She was, of course, leaning against my apartment door when I got there. I felt it safer not to ask her how she got in through the security gate into the parking area and the building. Sometimes ignorance is bliss or I would start to wonder if she was capable of getting into my apartment as well.

At first, she looked out the window, then she joined me at the kitchen and helped. The conversation was mostly where this was or that; even when we sat down to eat it was generalities. The same theme continued until we sat at either ends of the couch. She placed her leg under her body so she was now angled to look in my direction.

"I'm sorry, Nathan, trust comes at a slow pace for me."

I suspected I knew the answer to my next question; only one man would have all the facts and so all I needed was confirmation. "Did it help talking to Detective Donaldson?"

She hid the smile well. She couldn't hide the shade of her neck and the slow march of color up to her ears before deciding that pretence wasn't necessary. Dianne nodded her head, took another sip of her coffee before leaning over and placing it back on the coffee table.

"He showed me the file, Nathan: witness statements, medical statements and various transcript of the evening from my radio call to your statement in the interview room. You're an exceptional man. It sure took some reading." Dianne held her hand up and cleared a space of about three inches between her finger and thumb.

For the next twenty minutes she asked me questions about my life. Some I think were confirmation of what must be in that three-inch-thick file. Other times I would finish answering her question and spend time elaborating on some point.

"So, now you know my life history, do I get to know yours since, as tradition states, I am actually responsible for yours now?"

Her laugh was really nice to hear and for the first time that afternoon, her eyes came to life.

"I looked it up, you know. Those Chinese have a lot to answer for. I found three variations of that very proverb, Nathan."

This time I just shrugged and waited her out. As silence seemed to become the norm, I pushed for an answer.

"Well, since you have read-up on all three versions, do you still feel comfortable with how I explained it?"

Dianne started to fidget and then said. "I can't do this, Nathan."

Her eyes started to water up, my hand came out and rested on the couch between us. She watched my hand and when it stopped, looked up at me. Dianne seemed to pause for a moment before her hand met mine, her body's warmth blended with mine.

The internal struggle was interesting to watch. I had time; she deserved at least that much.

"I'm hell to live with, Nathan. It's always been 'my way or the highway' with men."

Her hand held mine just a little tighter but eased somewhat when I smiled and said, "And then I turn up in your life."

She could only nod her head in agreement. I let go of her hand and leaned over to the coffee table, pulled the little drawer open and reached in. Dianne watched me do this, her smile already on her lips. That smile radiated out when I placed the ten-dollar bill in her hand.

I was pulling her out of her funk and she knew it. Her hand held that well-traveled ten dollars.

"I don't know why I'm accepting this, Nathan. You left me with the biggest guy in that alleyway; you know that don't you? So much for looking after this little girl."

"Rubbish, I held auditions in that alleyway; he most definitely was the smallest of the three."

"Yeah right, so while I was dealing with the Hulk, you took ballet lessons with the lightweight. Some Prince Charming you are."

She still placed the ten-dollar bill into her pocket as we both got up and washed what was left of dinner and coffee. Twenty minutes later that anxiety set in again and it was then I pointed to the door and told her I was kicking her out because it was almost eleven and I needed my beauty sleep. She took one look at me and then burst out laughing as I closed the front door behind her.

My phone rang a few minutes later. "It's okay, Nathan; I made it to my car all by myself, ignoring all these dark corners and strange noises."

"You're a police officer. You carry a gun; I know you do, I saw it earlier. Besides, the strange noises will be Mrs. Duncan's dog; just don't tread in what comes from him making those strange noises."

I'm almost sure I heard her laugh resonate around the building when she closed her cell down.

Despite what I had said to Dianne, I couldn't sleep. My mind turned over every word and nuance of our evening together. Other than the migraine I gave myself over all this, I came up with absolutely nothing. She needed help, that was a given. The worry was that my kind of help would only get her so far. Officer Dianne Hobbs truly was worth the effort though, given how well we got on this evening.

When my father sat me down right at the beginning of teaching me self-defense, his words confused me at first. But, as I grew older and, although bruised, somewhat wiser, I felt my father was the smartest man alive.

"In any fight, the person who starts it will lose. The only exception to that rule is if you get blindsided. Make them start the fight, Nathan. When they start a fight they will have left themselves vulnerable and you, therefore, act accordingly. Only then will you get the upper hand."

Yes, my father taught me well. I went to bed more at ease with what could well happen now. Dianne had made the first move, and to those on the outside looking in it would look like, reluctance. To me, well, just thinking about the way this afternoon and evening had played out, showed me I was willing to admit: Officer Dianne Hobbs was most definitely worth it.

*******

The banging on my apartment door made me put down my first coffee of the morning. Her smile was infectious. I took a step to the side and she breezed in. By the time I had closed the door and joined her at the breakfast counter, she was already putting my eggs and bacon between some bread and grasped my coffee cup before stepping aside.

I altered course and opened the fridge door, adding a hint of sarcasm when I said. "Help yourself, Dianne."

"Thanks, I will," emanated from her part of the open kitchen.

That alone caused me to change tack.

"That was called sarcasm, Dianne. Had you wished breakfast, all you had to do is ring before you were due to arrive and I would have made you some. That and actually know you were even coming this morning, of course."

Her second bite of her stolen sandwich still in her mouth stopped her from saying much else until she had finished. She then held out her part-eaten sandwich towards me, I went back to making myself another breakfast.

"You're my guest, Dianne so the 'Mi Casa, Su Casa', does apply in this apartment. But that doesn't mean you can treat your host like a rug and walk all over him. Is that clearer or would you prefer me to just change the locks and dump your skinny ass out on the sidewalk?"

For a second the red-head in Dianne Hobbs came close to spilling out. As for me, I just stood there and waited for her to make up her own mind. After all, I didn't start this.

"I suppose its things like this that make you realize why I live alone."

I took a guess at this point and said. "You live alone, Dianne, because you won't let anyone into your heart."

By now her sandwich sat on her plate. "Hey, no fair."

Silence reigned for now, we both sat down to eat. I could sense the wheels going around in her head the longer the silence continued.

"I...I just don't know how to open up."

My fork now rested on my plate and I watched Dianne. She started to look like she was uncomfortable, so I went back to eating.

It was as we were slumming it on the couch that she eventually spoke again. She was sat across one end of the couch while I was at the other end, her bare feet pressed against my thigh.

Her eyes wandered across my apartment. "Why am I here?"

"You said it was because you want me to teach you how to swim."

Her cheeks took on a little color right about then and she began to squirm. With the lack of sunglasses I now knew Dianne had the most attractive brown eyes. Her nose still complimented her features even if it did look it had been broken at some time. Her lips could well be described as kissable. But it was when she smiled occasionally and those cheek bones joined in, that her charm was complete.

"I have a confession to make."

This time I paid really close attention.

After squirming for a while, she finally blurted out, "I can swim."

"Yes, I know. You came first in the breast-stroke and butterfly in last summer's competition between Forest Heights and East Central precinct."

Her mouth took on that "O" look as her eyes just got wider. "But how...?"

"The trophy cabinet against the precinct wall by the elevator. I looked at the photos and read the captions attached while I waited."

Her laughter pulled her from her funk, that was for sure. It was only when it started to get dark that we realized we had been talking non-stop for some hours. The conversation slowed down for coffees and potty breaks but we simply slid right back into whatever the topic was.

At one point I asked the most famous of questions. "Why did you become a police officer?"

Dianne seemed to think about the question; she would still take sips from her drink while she did. Her eyes held that faraway look, until she was ready to speak.

Her answer threw me a bit. "I could spout all the usual, 'I wanted to make a difference,' and such. But the real reason was that I simply wasn't a nice person when I was younger and, once I realized just how much I hurt people, I simply knew that I needed to pay all that back. So I joined the force and every day I'm just so grateful I got in, even with my track record."

Feeling like I was still missing something in what she was saying, I asked her to give me an example. Dianne thought about it for a moment, before placing her cup on the coffee table. Her arm rested against the back of the couch before she rested her head on it and told me of the time she left school and, rather than go to college, she managed to find a nine-to-five job. What shocked her was that a classmate also worked there and they both set about improving the nodding acquaintance they had all through school.

"I had been there six months when another school friend invited us to her birthday party."

Dianne knew her mother's reluctance to let her go alone, so she hatched a plan. She asked the guy from work to take her on the condition that he had to pick her up from home. He passed mom's check and once they got to the party she all but dumped him on the sidelines in favor of the boyfriend that didn't meet with her mother's seal of approval.

The only thing I could do was sit a stare at her, Dianne blushed and shrugged her shoulders.

"Fuck, that was cold. What happened then?"

She shrugged her shoulders before replying. "Not much really, I knew he left the party but I didn't notice when. He ignored me at work for a week, but the fun I had that evening more than made up for that."

After staring at her for what felt like hours, all she did was smile in embarrassment at what she did to another human being and cap it off with a shrug of her shoulders. In that one moment of clarity, I suddenly wondered whether Officer Dianne Hobbs really had changed or whether she was trying to snow me and that beauty really was skin deep.

The evening was shot to pieces from then on, Dianne tried a couple of times to re-start it but all my mind's eye could see was some guy walking out of a party, minus one.

*******

It was two weeks before my life went sideways again. The first week was excusable: I was in a town two states over for my company, smoothing the ruffled feathers of the city council over some of the details of the contract we had with them. I got back to ten missed calls and seven messages from Dianne, getting more and more worrying as each came through the speaker of my answering machine.

I had intended to call her back but the problem with a new contract wouldn't go away. Time after time I would sort out or clarify one paragraph, then the city council would bring up another problem. The temptation was to tell my boss to get out from under and quickly. The call to my boss just made things worse. I was sent to stay and sort out all this. That took another week and left me frazzled and, even when the plane landed back home and I managed to retrieve my car, I was still left feeling that I needed a holiday.