Anything Doesn't Mean Anyone

"Damn, I hate domestics!" I bitched to my partner, Jax, as we pulled up in front of the apartment complex.

"I'm with you, brother. Let's just get this over and done with," he responded.

Almost all of the domestic disturbances I had handled in my 23 years on the police force ended quietly after a lot of yelling, threats and occasionally fists, but rarely any arrests. By the time the police are called, an argument between spouses has devolved into a fairly tense situation, but when we arrive, the combatants usually come to their senses and calm down. The dark blue uniforms and the guns might play a part in it, I suspect.

Every now and then, however, things go sideways, and the guys in the uniforms wind up being the bad guys to the fighting couple. I've been punched, shoved and bitten before at domestics. I'd almost rather face a gangbanger brandishing a weapon.

When we got to the door of the couple's apartment, a tall, pretty woman with a dark red bruise on the side of her face let us in. She told us her boyfriend was in the kitchen, so I left my partner of 15 years, Walter Jackson, with the woman, while I cautiously made my way to him.

The man was standing with the refrigerator door open, sucking down a beer and looking somewhat disoriented. He had blood running down his face from a large cut above his right eyebrow. We were talking quietly for a minute or two when I felt a searing pain in my right deltoid almost at the same time I heard the percussion of a gun. I looked over to see the woman holding a small pistol and about to fire again when I heard a second blast and the woman dropped to the floor dead.

"You two okay?" Jax yelled out as he approached. "Oh, shit, Rain. You've been hit!"

I reached for my shoulder with my other hand and pulled back a handful of blood.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I muttered.

Twenty-three years on the force and the first bullet I take is at a domestic. My arm throbbed and was bleeding heavily, but since it hurt less than the time I broke it, I was hoping it didn't do too much bone damage, if any at all.

The boyfriend got me a clean towel from a drawer while Jax moved around the dead body of the woman and called it in. By the time paramedics arrived for me, the boyfriend and I were seated at the kitchen table and I had done all the preliminaries for the call.

As the paramedics got me stabilized for the trip to the emergency room, Jax came over to check on me. With everything that had happened, I had to admit my adrenalin level was through the roof, and I was incredibly thankful that Jax had saved my life.

"Oh my God, Jax, am I glad you got her before she put a second bullet in me," I said. "You saved my ass, buddy. I owe you big-time. Anything you ever need, I'm your man."

Although Jax wound up saving my life, he got a three-day rip for actually creating the situation. Seems he let the girlfriend go to the bathroom unescorted soon after we got to the scene, and she snuck out of the bathroom carrying a.22 pistol.

It took about two months for me to return to active duty, since the small-caliber bullet only nicked a bone, but when I got back, Jax was no longer my partner. He took his 25 years on the job and retired with his pension. I tried to talk him out of that, but he said he was fed up with all the bullshit and was done being police. Damn. He was a great partner in addition to being a close personal friend.

Two months later, he picked up and moved to California to become a writer.

******

It was always a big deal when best-selling author Walter Jackson came back to town to visit. One of the television stations in town always wanted to catch up with a favorite son, and no matter where he went, people were always coming up to him for an autograph, often with one of his books in their hands for him to sign.

It was a pretty big deal for my wife, Traci, and me as well. Jax always stayed with us for the week or so he was in town, and I would usually take some vacation days so we could have time to hang out, reminisce and drink.

Both Traci and I knew Jax long before we became partners on the metro police department. In fact, the three of us had been friends since we were about 5 years old and lived on the same block. We were practically The Three Musketeers. Where you saw one of us, the other two were likely to be pretty close by. Traci was a bit of a tomboy, so she was around with us when we played baseball and army, while the other girls in the neighborhood were off playing dolls and dress-up.

Things got a little weird when we hit puberty. Traci sprouted boobs and her small, bony butt suddenly filled out her jeans and shorts. Her mother thought it was "inappropriate," so she had to stop playing football with the guys in the neighborhood, and pretty soon she was spending a lot more time with the other girls, huddled together, whispering and giggling.

It got even weirder for me when I found out that Jax had asked Traci to be his date for the eighth grade Valentine's dance. For several weeks leading up to the event, the two of them were doing a lot of whispering and giggling, then I found them kissing by Jax's locker in the school hallway. I suddenly became the odd man out. We were no longer The Three Musketeers; now it was two musketeers and an outsider. At the very least, my feelings took a huge hit, especially when the two continued to be a couple after the dance.

The two of them continued to date for the rest of eighth grade and throughout most of ninth grade before Jax made the biggest mistake of his life: he got caught kissing Mary Lou Regan under the bleachers that spring. The news was all over Robert Frost High School before the next day was over, and Traci was suddenly a free agent. I went from being almost an exile to being her comforting friend in the space of one day.

I suppose it could be said I had no pride, but I jumped in to replace Jax in Traci's heart in a nanosecond. I never interfered in the relationship between Traci and Jax, but I wasn't going to hesitate for a second to lay claim to the prize that was Traci Watson. Within a week, she was my girlfriend, and I wasn't a bit guilty about that.

When Jax's infatuation with Mary Lou ended a month later, he tried to convince Traci to go back to him, even though he knew she was with me. That was the only time he and I fought in all the years of our friendship. For her part, Traci told him she was with me and had no interest in him anymore, and after a couple of weeks he seemed to accept her decision. He slowly worked his way back into our friendships over the course of the next six months.

Jax was my best man when Traci and I married six months after we graduated from Michigan State University. He had been on the police force for two years when I joined right out of school. Eight years later I was a sergeant and he was a detective when we were paired up as partners. I considered it a great partnership.

Unfortunately for Jax, his partnership with women didn't last near as long as our union. His first marriage lasted only three years and his second went only five. Both ended because he cheated.

"You know me, Rain. I love variety. Just having one woman gets kind of old after a while," he told me one time while we were driving around town. "Traci's a wonderful woman, but I don't know how you've done it. Just one woman... wow."

Despite his inability to hold onto a woman, Jax remained a good friend to both of us and was also a really good uncle to our two children. He was always invited to our home for holidays and birthdays, and he vacationed with us a lot in the years he was unattached. All of us were sorry to see Jax head out to California, and we all looked forward to his visits back. The kids in particular were happy when he came to visit, because he always brought back great gifts for them, especially after he became a successful author.

This time, Jax seemed a little reserved for the first two days after he got to our house. I figured I would give him a couple of days to come to me to talk before I approached him. I knew it was serious when he called me by my given name of Mason when he said we needed to talk.

"Do you remember when I shot that woman in the domestic and saved your life?" he said quietly as the two of us sat in the family room watching TV while Traci prepared dinner in the kitchen one evening.

"How could I forget that? You bring it up every day when you visit us or we visit you," I said, chuckling over what had become a running joke.

"Well, I need to call in that favor you owe me," he said, leaning toward me from the chair in which he was sitting. "I'm dying, Mason. For reals. Doc says I've got about a year left. Inoperable tumor in my brain."

I looked hard into his eyes. Jax could be a great kidder, but I could tell by his eyes that he wasn't setting me up for a "gotcha."

"What do you need from me?" I said as seriously as I ever responded to anyone in my life.

"I want to take a final bucket list trip around the world, and I want to use my trip for a final book. I want to take Traci with me to share my adventure and be my transcriptionist," he said.

Wait a minute. It sounded like he was asking me if he could take my wife with him for a last trip around the world before he died. He couldn't seriously be asking me that, could he?

"You told me, 'Anything you need. I'm your man.' Remember that?" he said.

My head spun. My stomach felt like I'd been gut-punched.

"You can't be serious?" I whispered. "I never promised you my wife. I couldn't and wouldn't promise her to anyone."

"I've already talked to her, Rain. She understands what this means to me, and she said she's in," Jax said quietly but seriously.

"No. No. No. I don't care what she said. You're not taking her with you. I promised you anything. That didn't mean anyone," I said. "Don't be ridiculous."

"But you promised me," Jax whined. "You promised me after I saved your life, that you would give me anything I asked for... I know this is a lot, but I've only got a year... after that, I'll be dead and she can be yours forever."

"Did you hear yourself? I promised you anything. Not anybody. And I'm not giving you my wife for a year. I'm sorry you're dying, but I'm not pimping my wife out for a year to you... or anybody," I said, my voice rising in volume.

"You promised him, Rain, regardless of how you want to spin it. And since he's dying, I'm going to honor that promise," Traci said, standing in the opening to the room with her hands on her hips.

I looked up into the glowing-mad eyes of my wife. This still wasn't going to happen.

"He's asking me to give you up for a year. I never anticipated anything like this. Nobody could have anticipated anything like this. But I never promised him anybody," I argued with Traci.

"I'm not going to let you do it!"

"You don't own me! I'm going!" Traci practically shouted at me before walking out of the room.

"Why did you save my life if you were going to destroy it later?" I asked Jax.

"I'm not destroying your life, Rain," he responded. "I've always loved Traci. I should never have let her go all those years ago. She would get to share my final adventure... you know I'd treat her right... and then with me gone, you'd know she was all yours again... completely."

"I can't do that, Jax. I'm not giving you my wife for a year... even if you're going to be dead after. As it is, if you weren't dying and had asked me that, I'd kill you," I snarled.

"You know me as well as anybody in the world, Jax. Why would you even think I would let you 'borrow' Traci for a year?"

"Because I do know you better than anybody, Rain. You know I'd take care of her and I'd respect her. I'd never impose myself enough to make her do something degrading or... something that she didn't want to do. Then I'd be gone... forever... and not be a concern that I'd be back chasing after her in the future," he said in a manner that was way more business-like than I expected, not that his tone would influence my decision in any way.

"With your money, Jax, why don't you just take a high-priced escort, or a B-list starlet?" I asked.

"You're not getting it, Rain. I'm dying. DYING. This is it for me. I want to make my last hurrah a real hurrah," Jax asserted. "I missed my chance at Traci all those years ago, but she's always been the woman I've wanted. She's willing. Let me have this last ask. I know it's a big one, a huge one. It would stay between Traci, you and me. No one would ever have to know."

"I would know, Jax. That's not who I am. I love you like a brother, but I can't give you my wife."

"Uh, bro, I'm not sure you're in control of this situation," he said.

I knew I wasn't in control of the situation, but surely Traci would see things my way when I had a chance to talk with her. She and Jax had apparently talked behind my back, which didn't make me happy, but surely she would be reasonable, wouldn't she?

Traci announced dinner was ready about 10 minutes later. She and Jax ate heartily and were jovial dinner companions--all for my benefit, I'm sure, while I felt like I was eating my last meal before heading to the gallows. The two continued their jocularity throughout the evening while I pretended to be more interested in whatever was on television. Jax tried to invite me into their conversation several times, but I wasn't going to be sidetracked from my gloom.

Finally at about 9 PM, Traci announced she was ready for bed, which was her hint to me that it was time to talk.

Traci was already naked in bed when I walked into the room. We always slept naked, but when she started patting the bed I knew she was thinking that she'd fuck me into the mattress to help me see things her way. I kept my clothes on and sank down into the chair in the room.

"Nice try, babe, but I'm doing this with my big brain," I said.

She harrumphed, but said nothing for about a minute.

"He's dying, Rain. He's our oldest friend... and he's dying. I'm going to give this to him," Traci said, her blue eyes blazing with defiance.

"You're going to give this to him?" I responded. "As your husband, don't you think it's a 'we' decision?" I asked.

"It's my body, and it's my decision alone. You don't get a say in this..." she started.

"The vows are ours, Traci," I interrupted. "The vows that you will be willfully breaking are ours. Don't you think that gives me a say?"

She colored brightly and dropped her eyes to the bed, telling me she wasn't prepared for that argument.

"I have never cheated on you, Rain. Never even considered it. But this is different. He's dying... and he's our oldest friend. It wouldn't be love. It would be me giving my body to comfort our oldest friend in his dying months," she reasoned.

"So now you're Florence Fucking Nightingale... literally. That's pathetic, babe!" I yelled. "Are you going to start fucking every dying friend in the future?"

She growled at me before taking a deep breath and re-engaging.

"I can comfort him... and help him with his last book. I am going to do this, with or without your permission. We can sort this out after he's gone," she said.

That was exactly what I figured. There was no discussion. She had made up her mind for both of us. All that was left were the tears.

"What about the kids?" I asked.

"What about the kids? They don't need to know anything other than I'm off helping Uncle Jax," she said sharply.

"Are you fucking kidding me!" I practically shouted. "Neither of our kids are stupid. They are going to think I'm the biggest puss in the world, letting their mother go off on a worldwide frolic with our closest friend. It's bad enough you disrespect me enough to do this. I'm not letting them think I'm the biggest cuckold this side of the Rockies. I will tell them the truth, and let them sort things out."

"You can't do that. They will think I'm a slut..."

"What would you call a woman who runs off on a year-long jaunt with a man who is not her husband?" I asked.

"But this is different. He's dying. I would be comforting him," she claimed.

"Call it what you want. If you do this, I'll be calling you a slut, plain and simple," I said.

"You did promise him 'anything,'" she said.

"Nice try. I promised him anything. Not anyone," I said. "But that tells me you two have talked about this a lot... and I'm on the outside looking in.

"Do what you feel you need to do, babe, but remember that actions have consequences attached to them," I added.

I tried again with Jax the next day.

"Bro, we've been friends for like 50 years. Don't do this to me, to Traci," I said.

"It will be okay, Rain. She doesn't love me the way she loves you," Jax said. "You're her husband. I'm only a friend. She loves me like a friend, a good friend, but that's way less than she loves you. She'll come back to you completely. I'll be nothing but a memory. Hopefully a good memory, but just a memory."

"But what if I'm not here when she comes back?" I asked.

"You wouldn't be stupid enough to not be here for her when she comes back," Jax answered without even hesitating. "You love her. You guys have been married forever. This won't be very long. I'll be gone. Dead. And she'll be yours again. Just give me this, Rain, please."

I shook my head, got up and walked away.

We had barely started eating dinner that night when she started in on me at the dinner table, with Jax sitting right there. I guess she figured since I wasn't going to let her fuck me into agreeing with their plan, they could double-team me in an argument at the table.

"There's not going to be a divorce, Rain," Traci said. "You love me. I know it and you do, too. I love you, and you know that, too. And Jax is our oldest friend... and he's dying. We're going to do this for him."

"I can't promise that, Traci. I'm not on board with this... at all," I said.

We had several more discussions like that the next two days. On the third day, a limousine showed up in our driveway, and both Jax and Traci came downstairs carrying two suitcases each. I didn't offer to help with the luggage.

"So this is how it's going to be, huh?" I asked. "My wife and my best friend play house all over the world, and I'm just supposed to wait here like the dutiful cuckold husband. I guess maybe if I'm lucky you'll die earlier than expected."

Jax winced at that. My wife glowered.

"I never expected you to be so petty and mean," she cried.

"And I never expected you to be a whore, and you a predator," I said, turning from Traci to Jax.

She pursed her lips and looked like she wanted to reply, but Jax looked at her and shook his head.

"It doesn't have to be this way, Rain," Traci said.

"Yes, it does," I responded in little more than a whisper.

On that note, she followed Jax out the door.

Traci and I had never left each other without a kiss good-bye until that moment. Now she was leaving for about a year to be the wife/companion/whore/secretary/caretaker for my former best friend and I didn't even get a peck on the lips. I guess that showed me exactly where I stood these days.

******

Remember the "War on Drugs" from the 1960s? Well, in case you haven't been paying attention, we lost that. So legislators decided to surrender to the enemy. We keep making more and more things legal, but it still doesn't stop much of the drug-related crime.

We were on the verge of making a big cocaine bust, which would slow that traffic considerably in our region for a while, so I was pretty busy for the next week at work. With nobody waiting for me at home, I was able to work as much as I wanted or needed, which kept me from brooding about Traci going off with Jax. It had been five days since the two left, and I hadn't heard word one from my wayward wife. To be fair, I hadn't called or texted her either, but again, I'm not the one who left.