A Shoulder to Cry On

"Midge," I said, and realized they were married when they kissed, and saw matching gold rings. "He also destroyed my windshield."

"That was your car? I'm so sorry, I promise we'll pay for that," she said, and I laughed.

"It's fine, I got insurance," I said.

"Let's at least go half on the deductible," Sierra said. I relented and accepted the offer when I determined they wouldn't stop until I let them.

Sierra became my best friend after that. The person I went shopping with. We had lunch together during my breaks at work or when I had a minute. She was the only person I felt comfortable sharing all my secrets with. All the things I had held in for so long, expecting to never tell anyone. I was a woman she could trust around her husband, because, obviously. Even if I wasn't a lesbian, I'm sure she still would have. I had a different level of trust with Shane and Sierra than I ever had with anyone. They were two people I let touch me, even if only a hug.

I remember vividly when we met for lunch to tell me after years of trying, they were finally expecting their first baby. I was so incredibly happy for them. They wanted me to be the god mother, and I happily accepted. If it was a girl, they wanted to name her Midge, and I begged them not to do that to a little girl. That ended up not mattering, because four months later her car was flipped by a drunk driver.

Shane was devasted, and I didn't know how to help him. This wasn't a tragedy I was ready for either. I came to the house they had just purchased because they were expecting. A home he had bought for the family he no longer had. When I entered the house after knocking, I saw him on the couch with his gun to his temple. Sprinting across the room, I ripped it from his hand and saw it was empty, but holy fuck did it scare the shit out of me.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I asked him. He started crying and his body slumped toward his feet. "Look at me." He didn't reply and I screamed at him. "Look at me!"

Shane slowly looked up at me and grabbed my hand. Instinctually I wanted to snatch my hand away, but I suppressed my impulse of not being touched. I took a deep breath, and hugged him, him crying into my chest. Such a strong, powerful man reduced to this. It was heartbreaking.

"I'm going to get you help, okay?" I ask him, and he just cries. "I miss her too. God do I miss her. You are going to get through this. I will not lose you too."

Shane got the help he needed. I didn't lose my other best friend. It's been almost seven years since Sierra died, and Shane has done his best to move on. As far as someone who lost the love of his life could. He's never been in a relationship longer than a month.

Seven years later I still have my drinking buddy after a shitty day.

I arrive at the bar first. I am one shot and half a beer in before he taps the bar to get my attention without touching me. He's already changed into jeans and V-neck shirt, and I can see the chain that is holding his wedding band around his neck. Once I know it's him, I can hug him without getting scared. He sits next to me, orders a bottle of beer, and takes a swig.

"Shitty day?" Shane asks.

"Fucking Monday's," I say and take a good gulp of my bottle.

"What made it a Monday?" Shane asks. "Besides it being Monday of course."

Where to start? I tell him about my day, especially the puking part. That fucking smell is still in my nostrils. His day was responding to four people stuck in an elevator that malfunctioned. They had been in there for six hours by the time Shane pulled them out through the escape hatch. The smell of BO was overpowering, and we both get a laugh out of the stench of our respective workdays.

"You still seeing Mandy?" I ask, and he shakes his head. "You ever gonna get one to last?"

"She wanted something casual," Shane says, finishes his second, then asks for water next. He's been doing that for years. Having a water every two drinks. I am not so responsible with my alcohol.

I look at the time on my phone and see its nearly eleven. I had sent a text to Gianna saying I'd be home at about eleven, and it's a twenty-minute drive.

"Oh, fuck, I need to go," I say, stepping off the stool for the first time in hours and nearly wobble to the floor, but manage to redirect my weight back toward the bar.

"You're not driving," he says, him having only those two beers with a fried appetizer. He can't resist the cheese sticks. "Give me your keys."

"Here," I say, reaching them toward him, then pulling them back at the last second. "Nope."

"I'm serious," Shane says, and I pull away again, and start walking to the door. "Midge," he says, and realizes he needs to pay. We know the bartender, so he just tosses a couple bills and then chases after me. "Give me the keys."

I'm at my car now, trying the door, but Shane reaches for the keys. I twirl around and lean against the car, holding them straight up above my head. He easily takes them from me, because not like I was really trying to keep them away.

"I'm taking you home," he says, leaning down to look at me and rattle my keys. When I don't start following, he picks me and flings me over his shoulder like I'm a little girl. I would be screaming if this was anyone but him. He puts me down on the passenger side of his truck a few spaces from my car and opens the door for me. "Get in."

"Fine dad," I say, sticking my tongue at him before climbing in the truck. I clip in my seat belt and lean back, feeling the world spin from him carrying me and the effort getting into the truck. "Damn I'm dizzy."

"Please don't puke in my truck," Shane says, and I giggle.

"I already did that today," I say, and play with the radio as he starts driving. Thankfully we like the same music, so he isn't trying to stop me. We bullshit most of the drive and are laughing when he pulls in front of my house which still has the porch light on. I look at the clock on the radio and see it's eleven thirty.

"Let me walk you in," Shane says, unclipping his seat belt and exiting the truck. I protest, but I'm glad he did after I forgot how big his truck is and would have faceplanted to the asphalt if he didn't catch me. "Come on."

"Carry me, I'm a princess," I drunkenly request. He plays along by scooping me up bridal style and carrying across the threshold.

"Your home highness," he says, lowing me down to my feet at my door, and then handing me my keys.

"Thank you," I say and lean against the wall next to my door. "We're going to have a really cute baby," I say as the door opens from the inside.

"Hey Gianna," Shane says, and she smiles with a small wave.

"Hey Shane, I'll take it from here."

"Have a good night," he says and walks to his truck with his hands in his pockets. Gianna leads me inside and puts me on the couch, and I lean in and kiss her deeply, her returning the kiss and smiling.

"What's the rule?" Gianna asks.

"I'm not that drunk," I say.

"Really, you just said you were having a baby with Shane," she says, and I laugh and fall onto the couch.

"Meaning to tell you about that," I say, and Gianna sighs.

"Now you two are having sex?" She asks, but she isn't serious, and I laugh a little. "Midge, I don't like it when you drink this late. Or at all for that matter. You can't regulate it. What's the rule?

"Drunk Midge sleeps on the couch," I slur.

"Yes, she does," Gianna says, pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and spreading it over me. "Love you, see you in a few hours." She kisses my head as I curl up and close my eyes.

–

Tuesday – March 10, 2026

-William Kaiser-

I wake up to the sound of a blow dryer from the bathroom turning on. I'm flat on my stomach, so look over my shoulder to see Abigail brushing her hair while the dryer is doing its thing. She is in a towel tightened at her breasts and tucked into her cleavage. Her shoulder length is dry, so she clicks it off as I commit to waking up.

It's five thirty when roll out of bed, and there isn't even a hint of morning from the blinds that face the sunrise.

"Morning," Abigail says as walk toward the bathroom. I kiss her on my way to the toilet and take a morning piss. This is where we are in our relationship. This is just normal.

I sleep in only boxers, so undressing is easy. I start the water before stepping into the tub a few second later. I don't need a full shower right now, so I just rinse and step out once complete. There is a towel on a hook next to the tub that I grab to dry off with.

"What's the day looking like?" Abigail asks from the main bedroom as she is getting dressed.

"Active case right now. Day two, still running it," I say, and step to the mirror to trim my beard. I look at the belly fat I can't seem to get off as the trimmer buzzes around my face.

"How's the newbie?" Abigail asks once I turn off the trimmer.

"Rough, but more competent than not," I say and step out of the bathroom to get dressed.

"What does rough entail?" Abigail asks.

"Puking at the ME, and just a few ignorant questions. Nothing I couldn't salvage," I say and drop the towel. I think I'll go with khakis and the long sleeve today, no jacket.

"Did the butler do it?" Abigail teases.

"No, but the wife probably did," I say and sit down to put on my socks. "Guy drops dead four months after getting married. Insurance policy, and the guy was worth a lot of money."

"It almost never is that simple," Abigail says.

"I think it is usually that simple. Occam's Razor," I say, finishing up the socks and standing up.

"Just keep an open mind," Abigail says.

"I'm still going to do my job, if there's no evidence then I drop it," I say and start working the knot of my tie. "What's your day?"

"Working a sensitive case with Lieutenant Eastland from SI," Abigail replies, and I am intrigued. "I mean it when I say sensitive, don't ask."

"I know," I say, finish the tie, and besides shoes I am dressed. "Is Helena okay with picking up Ursula after school?"

"You'd be amazed what she'd do for fifty dollars," Abigail says, then realized her inuendo a moment later. "Yikes, that sounded bad."

"No comment," I say, and she tosses a throw pillow across the room at me. "Coffee?" I say as I leave the room.

"Please," she replies when I'm in the hall. I walk past Helena's room where she is asleep, but I can hear the faint sound of her music still playing. In the kitchen I dump the grounds from yesterday, replace the filter, add fresh coffee grounds, and then fill the pot with water after rinsing it. I pour the water into the reservoir and start the pot, a red light illuminating on the side of the pot.

I open a cabinet and see plates so open another and see spices. There is a good chance I'll be doing this for the next few weeks. Always happens when I move, and I no longer have any idea where the coffee cups are. Two weeks ago, Abigail and I moved in together. Most of my stuff is in storage.

Abigail arrives and opens the cabinet with the coffee cups, which is directly above the coffee pot. That makes sense.

"You'll figure it out," she says, and puts two to-go mugs on the counter.

–

Tuesday – March 10, 2026

-Midge Appletree-

I hear cartoons on the television before I open my eyes. My eyes flicker open, and I see flashing colors on the screen. When my vision starts to refocus, I see a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water on the coffee table. Before I reach for the bottle, I feel something at my feet and my knees involuntarily coil toward my chest.

"Sorry M," I hear Wesley say from the other end of the couch with a bowl of cereal on his lap. Once I know who it is, I sit up and rub his hair before kissing his head.

"What time is it?" I ask, then look over my shoulder and see it's nearly seven. Looks like I won't be getting a shower. "I need to get ready for work, see you in a minute."

I take the aspirin to preempt the headache and wobble up the stairs. I walk straight down the hall to the master bedroom where Gianna is tying her red hair behind her head. She doesn't even address me when I enter and strip off my clothes from yesterday.

"Do you need to do this every time I drink?" I ask, Gianna continuing to ignore me. "G?"

"What did you mean last night?" Gianna asks, finishing tying her hair and letting the tail drop to her back. "You were going to have a cute baby with Shane?"

"I was drunk," I say after too long of a hesitation as I was sliding off my briefs. I wipe away moister before putting on a new pair.

"I've seen you worse, don't avoid the question," Gianna says, putting her hands on her hips. Like mother like daughter.

"What do you think I mean?" I ask, and she puts her hand out in front of her.

"Stop. Stop with that bullshit of a deflection, and answer the question," Gianna says, now crossing her arms over her chest. When I don't have a response after putting on a new pair of pants and applying deodorant she asks, "Okay, what have you been meaning to tell me about?"

"About what?"

"About you and Shane having a cute baby. What have you been meaning to tell me about? You come back at least twice a week, drunk, with Shane. What have you been meaning to tell me?"

"You think I'm fucking Shane?" I ask bluntly.

"You tell me," she replies.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I say, pulling on an undershirt while looking for a blouse to put on. "I don't even like being touched. I get anxiety panic attacks when men hit on me."

"Unless it's Shane carrying you newlywed style up the porch," Gianna shots back, and I stop at the first button to face her. "You ever going to tell me why you don't like being touched?"

"I've told you. I've always been that way..."

"...bullshit," Gianna interrupts, the first time in this conversation her face looks angry. "Shane knows more about you than I do. I'm your wife."

"I'm not keeping anything from you..."

"...then answer the fucking question!" Gianna shouts, and I sigh, turn away and finish buttoning my blouse.

"I'm going to be late," I say and walk out of the room. To my surprise she didn't shout after me. I walk down the stairs and say bye to the kids and walk out the door after grabbing my car keys off the counter. I get all the way past the gate before I realize where my car is. "Shit." Now it makes sense why she didn't shout.

I walk back through the gate and arrive at the porch where the kids all walk out being led by Wendy to the bus stop.

"See you after school," I say, Wendy and Preston ducking my kiss, but Wesley accepts it. Gianna leans against the door, waving, then looking at me once they're out the gate.

"Remember how you got home?" Gianna asks sarcastically and locks the door behind her. "Station or bar?"

"Considering my sidearm is in the glove compartment, bar," I reply, and she gestures for me to follow her.

"We're not done," Gianna says, and I stop at the gate as she walks through it. She turns around when she doesn't hear it clang shut.

"Midge?" Gianna asks.

"I'm not sleeping with Shane," I say, and she blinks a few times. "I need to get to work, but I'll tell you everything when I get home. Okay?"

"Everything?" Gianna asks, and I nod. She walks to me and kisses me softly on the lips. "Promise?"

"Yes," I reply, and she nods in acceptance.

"Okay," Gianna says, a small smile forming, before she turns to the car.

–

After Gianna drops me off at the bar, I take my car to the station where Will is already at work. He of course has a pot of coffee brewed, and I must have a face saying don't even talk to me before coffee because he doesn't. Once I sit down with my cup, he spins his chair to me and extends a file.

"State Department didn't give us too much shit," he says. It's Omar and his family's immigration record. "Nothing good. They claimed asylum in O three, changed their surname when they did to Asfour. His father Ishmael Asfour's birth name was Ibrahim Mohammad Abdulaziz. Get this, he's related to the royal family of Saudi Arabia."

"Get the fuck out," I say while I scroll through the documents. "How is that nothing good?"

"It doesn't seem all that relevant. It's a distant branch family, there are literally thousands of Saudi Princes. Explains the money though," Will says, and I have a feeling he knew some of that because of our cultural advisor.

"We still leaning on the wife?" I ask, and he nods, though it's not very committed. "What's the game plan?"

"I got a few warrants to search Omar and Laurel's apartment, but I don't really need it because she's consented to search. You get to take a field trip today. In about thirty minutes, head down to the crime lab, you're transporting some samples for testing to the University. They got a toxicologist who has agreed to confirm the poison."

"Can I work the warrants instead?" I ask, and he thinks for a second. "Rock paper scissors?"

"Fine."

Graham sneezes and it scares the shit out of me. When the hell did he get here?

I turn back to Will. "Rock, paper, scissors." His rock beats my scissors.

"At least I get to finish my coffee," I say, and take a sip.

–

I am elated to discover the lab tech transporting the sample with me is the Chief of the crime lab Jill Whitaker. She is a fucking legend.

First perfect score on the written test portion of the detective's exam for the precinct. One of the highest number of arrests as a patrol officer, and still holds the record for a single year. First living female officer to get her badge retired. Survived a gruesome on duty injury and forced to retire but came back swinging as a CSI. She's married to the Chief of Police, who himself is another legend. On top of all of that, she's a working mom with two baby girls at home.

For forty, Jill is a dime. Shimmering free flowing brown hair to her shoulders. Minimal cosmetic routine because she doesn't need much improvement. She is incredibly curvy in all the right ways. Her precinct t-shirt with 'CSI' on the back tucked into her beige cargo pants is inspirationally sensible.

Jill and I leave the parking lot in her CSI lab van after securing a few samples from Omar's body to test our poison against at the university. She asks me what I want to listen to, and I have to relent after I reject the offer twice. Classic rock, and she would have picked that anyway. Rolling Stones starts playing.

"You just started in homicide, right?" Jill asks, and I nod, then verbally confirm it. "You start in property?"

"Yeah," I reply, still a little giddy I'm talking to her. "I really wanted homicide or violent crime, so I chomped at the bit for the first chance."

"Property is a good department. I had good leadership when I was there. You know Captain Queen?" she asks, and I nod. "He was my partner."

"No shit?" I ask, and she nods. "Wow. Queen doesn't look it, but he's the real deal."

"He was then too. He saved my life when I got shot," Jill says, and I look over at her.

"Was...uh...that the one that..." I start.

"...ended my career?" she asks, and I nod. "Yeah, that's the one. Dark times."

"That really sucks," I say from lack of anything better to say.

"I just became something else. I still put dick bags in prison. That's close enough for me," Jill says, and I smile. I can't believe this woman is only four years older than me. "How's Kaiser as your partner?"

"Will? He's good. He spent the first week thinking I was a dude," I say, and Jill laughs.

"Really?" Jill asks.

"He's not the first. Will thought I said my name was Mitch. Light didn't turn on until I walked into the women's restroom," I say, and her laughing makes me laugh. "He's protective of his old partner Chase Kramner though. That caught me off guard. You ever met the guy?"

"Chase? We're friends," she says, and that surprises me. "We certainly didn't start that way."