her out of it.
“Not yet,” she said.
“He won’t like it any more than I do.”
She didn’t argue with him. Only make this harder going than it already was.
“You’ve never fired a gun in your life,” he said.
“First time for everything.”
“Not everybody’s made for it. Some people can’t get the hang, can’t shoot straight when they do. People who aren’t comfortable and accurate with handguns shouldn’t keep them around.”
“I thought maybe you could teach me,” she said. “At the police firing range.”
He was mum on that.
“I’d like it if you would, Pop. Be a way for the two of us to spend some time together…”
“Firing handguns isn’t my idea of quality time.”
“Family that shoots together stays together.”
“That’s not funny,” he said, tight-assed again. “I suppose you want me to help you pick out a weapon, too.”
“Once I have my permit.”
“Carry permit? Is that what you’re after? Walk around with a piece stuffed into your purse?”
“No. Keep it at the office, or in the car if I’m working field.”
“Lord,” he said. He popped a stick of spearmint gum into his mouth and chewed the hell out of it. What he really wanted was a cigar, but his doctor had made him give them up a couple of years ago. “Guns, detective work. You know I never wanted you or your sister to get into law enforcement.”
“You only told me about three million times.”
He gave her the old half-glum, half-evil-eye parent look. “That sassy mouth of yours’ll get you in some big trouble one of these days.”
She’d heard that about three million times, too. She forced a smile and shrugged and said, “So how about it, Pop? Us going to the range together, you teaching me.”
“I don’t think so. It’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think you’re the type who should be firearms qualified.”
“… What’s that mean?”
“Just what I said. You and guns… no, I don’t like it.”
“What don’t you like?”
He worked on the gum some more. Made her itch when he did that; people who chewed gum like cows chewing their cuds were bad enough, but the hard, juicy chompers like Pop gave her fits. “I just don’t think you’re the right fit,” he said.
“No, huh? What’s the right fit, Pop? Cops, muggers, and NRA cold-dead-handers?”
“Most NRA members are responsible gun owners.”
“Since when do you have to be a gun nut to be a responsible gun owner?”
“Don’t start in with that liberal crap-”
“Yeah, right. Charlton Heston in black face.”
“You better watch it, girl.”
“Or what, Pop? You’ll paddle my behind?”
“Same old smartass anger. When’re you going to learn to control yourself?”
“When you stop putting me down every time we talk.”
“I don’t put you down-”
“The hell you don’t!”
“Keep your voice down, Tamara.”
Now he’d really pissed her off. “That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it? Throw out orders, treat me like a damn kid. Well, I’m not a kid anymore. And I’m not a wild teenager or a militant college student, I’m a grown woman running a business and doing a job that’s not much different than yours. You treat your cop buddies with respect, why can’t you do the same for your own daughter!”
He glared at her. She glared back.
Knock on the door and Ma came in. “What’s all the yelling in here?”
Pop snapped, “Ask her.”
She said, “Ask him.”
“Well?”
“She’s decided she wants to buy herself a handgun,” he said. “Start carrying one around in her car.”
“For protection, in case of emergencies,” she said. “I wanted Pop to teach me to shoot, help me get qualified, but I guess it’s just too much to ask.”
Ma looked at her, at Pop, back at her again. One of those long, steady looks she always used when she had to step in between them. Ma, the mediator, the voice of reason. “Well,” she said finally, “I think it’s a good idea.”
Surprised her a little, and drove Pop up out of his chair, clouds all over his big face. “You what?”
“You heard me, Dennis. Her work can be as dangerous as yours-you know as well as I do how close we came to losing her twice this year. She has as much right as you to own a gun, learn how to protect herself.”
“She’s too young, too inexperienced…”
“Too flakey, he means,” Tamara said.
“I never said that.”
“Didn’t have to.”
“All right, that’s enough,” Ma said. She went over to him, got up in his face. Little woman, Ma, but she could be tough as hell when she needed to be. “Tamara’s as stubborn as you are when her mind’s made up. If this is what she wants, then she’s going to have it no matter what you say. You want some stranger to teach her about guns instead of her own father? You should be proud she came to you, not getting into an argument you can’t win.”
He couldn’t win an argument with Ma, either. She knew how to handle him, the right buttons to push. Took a little time but the clouds started to break up. He said reluctantly, “Maybe you’re right.”
“Damn straight,” she said. “Tamara, apologize to your father for yelling at him.”
She did it; she wasn’t pissed anymore, either.
“Your turn, Dennis.”
He couldn’t do it. Not in so many words. That was Pop for you-hard, inflexible, strictly old-school macho. But it was all right because what he said was, “I’m free Saturday afternoon. I suppose we could go out to the police range then.”
Tamara said, “How about one o’clock?”
“One o’clock. All right.”
Damn if she didn’t feel a moment of tenderness toward both her parents. She grinned across at them.
“Well, that was easy,” she said.
Pop’s mouth twitched, twitched some more, and he burst out laughing.
Well, what do you know, she thought, grinning. She’d not only made him laugh, which was rare enough in their relationship, but for once she’d also had the last word.
14
My mood on Thursday morning was considerably better than it had been on Wednesday, but Tamara’s was downright ebullient. All smiley-faced and energetic. I thought maybe she’d finally met somebody new, after the months of monastic living, but no, that wasn’t it.
“Made up my mind to get firearms certified,” she said. “Going out to the pistol range with Pop on Saturday for the first lesson.”
