But when I looked at the pineapple chicken, my stomach turned. I put it in the fridge for later, making myself a stiff whiskey sour instead.
My stomach didn't like that either, but it helped take some of the edge off. In fact, when I finished it I actually yawned. Encouraged by this good omen, I headed for bed.
I stripped down to my underwear, letting my clothes fall where they may. I put my gun on the nightstand next to my bed and replaced my bra with an old T-shirt. Then I climbed under the covers and killed the lights.
My mind had to be blank. That was the key. If I had nothing to think about, I had nothing to keep me awake. I imagined a vast field of wheat, blowing in the breeze, enclosed by a tall fence. Outside the fence were a million and one thoughts -- the case, the dating service, the Jane Does, and on and on. But my fence was too tall, too strong, and I wouldn't let them in.
I was on the very edge of sleep, ready to tumble fully into it, when the phone rang.
'Daniels.'
'Jacqueline? I assumed you'd be up.'
I blinked twice. Much as I craved sleep, some things were more important.
'Hi, Mom. How's everything?'
'Everything's wonderful, sweetheart. Except that scoundrel Mr. Griffin won't fix this hole in my porch screen, and I've got mosquitoes the size of geese flying around my room. I didn't wake you, did I? I know you're a night owl, and long distance is free after ten o'clock.'
I yawned. 'I'm up. You know you can call anytime, Mom. How's the weather in Orlando?'
'Beautiful. Hold on a second.'
There was a smacking sound, and a cry of triumph. 'I finally found something People magazine is good for -- swatting mosquitoes. How's Don?'
'I left him.'
'Good. He was an idiot. Believe me, dear, I understand the need for sex as much as anyone. That's the only reason I let that old fool Mr. Griffin keep coming by. But you can do so much better. You take after me -- beautiful, intelligent, and a crack shot. You know, the first four years I was a police officer, they wouldn't even let me wear a gun?'
I smiled at the familiar story. 'And when you finally did get one, you scored higher than every guy in the district at the range.'
'Who would have ever guessed that one day I'd look back on my forties as if they were my youth.' Her voice dropped an octave. 'Jacqueline, I fell yesterday.'
I sat up in bed, alarms going off in my heart. She didn't say it casually. She said it like all seventy-year-olds say it, with weight and reverence.
'You fell? How? Are you okay?'
'In the shower. Just a bruised hip. Nothing broken. I went back and forth about telling you.'
'You should have called right away.'
'So you could put your life on hold to fly out here and take care of me? You think I'd allow that?'
Mary Streng was the queen of self-reliance. Dad died when I was eleven. Heart attack. The day after we put him in the ground, Mom got a job with the CPD. She started in Records, eventually moved up to Dispatch, and by the end of her twenty years she'd risen to detective third class and worked property crimes.
No, she wouldn't have allowed me to fly out there.
'You still should have called.'
'I saw a show about this on Oprah. Adult-age children, caring for their feeble parents.'
'You're far from feeble, Mom.'
'Role reversal, they called it. There was a woman on who changed her mother's diapers. I'll eat my .38 before I let it come to that, Jacqueline.'
'Please, Mom. You don't have to talk like this.'
'Well, that's still a ways off. All I did was bruise my hip. I can still get around. It just limits some of the things I can do with that naughty Mr. Griffin.'
'Mom...'
'Look, I just wanted to tell you. I have to go now. Real Sex 38 is almost on HBO. I'll call you soon. Love you.'
And she hung up.
Sleep was miles away.
I remember my father like I remember old movies; just a few quotable lines and a general impression. He died when I was too young to get to know him as a person.
But my mom...my mom was everything to me. She was my best friend, my mentor, my hero. She was the reason I became a cop.
Mothers shouldn't be allowed to get old and fragile.
I purposely pushed it out of my head to avoid getting maudlin. Instead, I focused on my Lunch Mates appointment tomorrow. They'd be taking a picture, and I still looked like I'd gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson. What guy would go out with a woman with bruises all over her face?
