Page 28 of An Unfinished Memory

Wilder

As far as birthdays went, today could be worse. I wasn’t using my one day of sex a week today because I was on call, but I wasn’t at home hoping I’d get called out.

The hot sun beat down on me, but there was enough of a breeze coming off the little lake to keep me fishing later than I usually would. Ray was next to me, packing his tacklebox and fishing rod.

“Start planning,” he said as he sorted his gear. I hadn’t brought up his retirement. He had. “You’ll get appointed, and then it’ll be easier to get reelected.” He’d mentionedthat during his last term, but this time resonated differently. He sounded more serious than usual. More resolute.

“You’re going to give me a complex about my ability to get elected.”

“It’s politics, Wilder. You never know how an opponent is going to come at you.”

I reeled my line in to pack up with him. “What if my opponent is from the department?”

He straightened and adjusted the dark blue Murphy County Sheriff’s Office ball cap on his head. “It’s Kaplan, isn’t it?” He shook his head. “He’s not as concerned about the community. He’s only interested in the time off.”

Kaplan was a decent officer. We were all concerned about the time off as we took call and worked overtime each month, but I didn’t argue.

“Your campaigning starts now, Wilder,” Ray cautioned. “Every business you stop in, you act like you’re on the campaign trail. Every connection, you make it count. Be seen. Be supportive. Listen to their complaints and make sure they know you care. And when the time comes, they’ll turn out to vote for you.”

Wasn’t he listing everything I’d been doing on the job besides arresting people and confiscating drugs and stolen property?

“Not often we get to fish from the shore at this spot,” I commented as I picked up my own tackle box and readied my rod to pack up. I had to head to town in a few minutes, and I’d heard what he’d had to say about campaigning for years. I’d like a pass on a birthday when I was on call and couldn’t go far from work.

Eliot had called me a couple hours ago to ask if Icould give him a ride to town. His vehicle was in the shop, and he needed to pick it up around lunchtime.

“No,” Ray grunted. “We could use rain, though. It gets so blasted hot this time of year.”

Once we got some moisture, the shore would be too muddy, and I’d lose this spot that was close enough to town to fish, even when I might have to leave for a call. Without a nearby fishing hole, I’d be at home, mowing the lawn that didn’t need it. Trimming bushes that didn’t need it. Lurking around town to jump in when someone needed an extra set of hands or a strong back. What had been a way of giving back to a community that had been there for me during my toughest times was becoming a compulsion, a desperate way to pass time and keep from feeling like a failure.

My marriage had failed, not me, but I was having a tough time identifying the difference.

“Call me tomorrow if you’re not busy,” Ray said and started through the tall grass to the rough gravel parking lot.

I followed him. “Don’t you have better things to do than entertain me?”

His dry laugh was the same as all the other times I asked him the same question. “It’s always a pleasure killing time with you, Wilder. Even better when I don’t have to chase you down.”

The inside joke from when I was young and stupid never got old between us, but today the humor fell flat. Ray was divorced, and his kids were adults. He didn’t have best friends. He had residents of the county he served and protected.

Today was the first time a questionbobbed in my head after his reply.What will I have to look forward to when I’m his age?

Shrugging off the yearning for an answer that wouldn’t leave me wondering what the hell the point was, I waved goodbye and hopped in my pickup. On the drive to Eliot’s, I nursed a minor case of heartburn. I needed to eat. No one wanted to feel like crap on their birthday.

No one wanted to be heartbroken on their big 4-0 either, but here I was.

I wove through the backroads I could drive in the dark with no headlights—had done so a few times before I straightened myself out. Pastures spread out on either side of the dirt road. The log house came into view with the peaks of the shops and barns behind it. Cattle filled one side of the road, and Arabians grazed on the other. I parked in front of the house. Eliot was out of the garage before I could kill the engine.

He hopped in, looking fresh in a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Had he just showered? He was dressed nicer than me. “Happy Birthday, old man.”

“Ha ha, jackass.”

He grinned, but I couldn’t summon my laughter. I used to wake up toHappy Birthday, cowboy. Can I go for a ride?I liked those birthday greetings better.

“Hey, can we stop at your house first? I need to borrow a ten-mil socket.”

“You have a hundred of those.”

“They’re all lost.”

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