isn’t on your regular beat anymore.”
“Not for a couple years, since after you retired. I’m actually working back in Ebbington now. Private security.”
“There’s more crime in our town,” Veronica says almost proudly. “Especially around the mall. That’s where Mom works. She’s known as the Terminatrix. She’s head of security.”
“Now who’s talking out of school?” Officer Como says. “Actually, I spend most of my time supervising and doing paperwork. But it’s better hours, if not better money. I can spend more time with the kid here.”
“You’re right to value that,” I say.
“I’m trying. But you know it’s amazing, Doc, what kids will do these days. It’s not like it was in the alley behind your old shop. They’re not just drinking and smoking pot by the back door. They’re breaking in now, stealing computers and stereos, VCRs. Not to sell, but to have for themselves. Now these are truly bad kids for you. Most of them are middle-class. They feel entitled, andthey’re lazy to boot. It’s a lifestyle. They bum change outside the mall, for candy and cigarettes. Can you believe that, kids with weekly allowances begging money? I’m sorry Veronica isn’t older, so she’d already be away at college. You’re going away someday, aren’t you, darling, to a good school? Tell your mother you will.”
“Not far away, Mother,” Veronica happily answers. “Not far away at all.”
Officer Como winks at her, and I say, “You must be very proud, Officer.”
“We’ll see how proud I can be,” she answers. “Anything can happen. She could fall for some handsome jerk and get pregnant.”
“Jesus, Mom.”
“I’m only being realistic, darling. I have to be because you’re too wide-eyed. You’d think she’d be harder, with those gory novels she reads, and with her mother a cop, but it’s exactly the other way. She doesn’t believe the world is the way it is.”
“I don’t want to believe,” Veronica tells her, now glancing at me. “And neither does my good friend, Franklin. We share the same outlook. Don’t we?”
“We certainly do,” I answer her, though in truth the sound of the words is deeper than the feeling. I’m not sure anymore what I see when I “look out,” if it’s real or of my own making or something in between, a widely-shared fantasy of what we wish life to be and, therefore, have contrived to create. Or perhaps more to the point, what ought we see, for best sustenance and contentment and sense of purpose to our days? Veronica already seems rich in these regards, and seems, as much as a girl of fourteen can, quite unshakeable. So let her believe. I, Franklin Hata, retired supplier of home medical goods, expatriate and war veteran and now suburban lap swimmer nonpareil, can operate only provisionally at present, evenin the wane of my life. I would gladly look to Veronica for a lead, and for the past two days, I probably have.
“Well, we ought to be going,” Officer Como says, motioning to Veronica. “I can’t leave the car out front forever. I’m not a public servant anymore. We’ve got to get dinner together, Ronny. And I want to thank you, Doc, for my daughter.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been very good for her. Most of the time she comes home plain tired, and I think this job is mostly a waste of her time. She should go right to studying after school. But she’s been working hard at home the last couple days, full of energy. You two must have something special going.”
“She’s the one who has been providing the energy,” I say.
“Well, I’m happy you’re being discharged tomorrow, but I’m sorry for Ronny.”
“You’re going home?” Veronica says softly, knowing well that all discharges happen in the morning.
“Yes,” I reply, though I’m looking at her mother. “Dr. Weil thinks I’m recovered.”
Officer Como answers, “I talked to him as he was leaving the hospital. He helped a partner of mine once. He
“Not for a couple years, since after you retired. I’m actually working back in Ebbington now. Private security.”
“There’s more crime in our town,” Veronica says almost proudly. “Especially around the mall. That’s where Mom works. She’s known as the Terminatrix. She’s head of security.”
“Now who’s talking out of school?” Officer Como says. “Actually, I spend most of my time supervising and doing paperwork. But it’s better hours, if not better money. I can spend more time with the kid here.”
“You’re right to value that,” I say.
“I’m trying. But you know it’s amazing, Doc, what kids will do these days. It’s not like it was in the alley behind your old shop. They’re not just drinking and smoking pot by the back door. They’re breaking in now, stealing computers and stereos, VCRs. Not to sell, but to have for themselves. Now these are truly bad kids for you. Most of them are middle-class. They feel entitled, andthey’re lazy to boot. It’s a lifestyle. They bum change outside the mall, for candy and cigarettes. Can you believe that, kids with weekly allowances begging money? I’m sorry Veronica isn’t older, so she’d already be away at college. You’re going away someday, aren’t you, darling, to a good school? Tell your mother you will.”
“Not far away, Mother,” Veronica happily answers. “Not far away at all.”
Officer Como winks at her, and I say, “You must be very proud, Officer.”
“We’ll see how proud I can be,” she answers. “Anything can happen. She could fall for some handsome jerk and get pregnant.”
“Jesus, Mom.”
“I’m only being realistic, darling. I have to be because you’re too wide-eyed. You’d think she’d be harder, with those gory novels she reads, and with her mother a cop, but it’s exactly the other way. She doesn’t believe the world is the way it is.”
“I don’t want to believe,” Veronica tells her, now glancing at me. “And neither does my good friend, Franklin. We share the same outlook. Don’t we?”
“We certainly do,” I answer her, though in truth the sound of the words is deeper than the feeling. I’m not sure anymore what I see when I “look out,” if it’s real or of my own making or something in between, a widely-shared fantasy of what we wish life to be and, therefore, have contrived to create. Or perhaps more to the point, what ought we see, for best sustenance and contentment and sense of purpose to our days? Veronica already seems rich in these regards, and seems, as much as a girl of fourteen can, quite unshakeable. So let her believe. I, Franklin Hata, retired supplier of home medical goods, expatriate and war veteran and now suburban lap swimmer nonpareil, can operate only provisionally at present, evenin the wane of my life. I would gladly look to Veronica for a lead, and for the past two days, I probably have.
“Well, we ought to be going,” Officer Como says, motioning to Veronica. “I can’t leave the car out front forever. I’m not a public servant anymore. We’ve got to get dinner together, Ronny. And I want to thank you, Doc, for my daughter.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been very good for her. Most of the time she comes home plain tired, and I think this job is mostly a waste of her time. She should go right to studying after school. But she’s been working hard at home the last couple days, full of energy. You two must have something special going.”
“She’s the one who has been providing the energy,” I say.
“Well, I’m happy you’re being discharged tomorrow, but I’m sorry for Ronny.”
“You’re going home?” Veronica says softly, knowing well that all discharges happen in the morning.
“Yes,” I reply, though I’m looking at her mother. “Dr. Weil thinks I’m recovered.”
Officer Como answers, “I talked to him as he was leaving the hospital. He helped a partner of mine once. He
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