Journal

Tuesday May 6 2003

9:00 p.m.

Today was a beautiful and non-eventful day of patrol.  Officer Dudley and I encountered no troubles at all as we toured the Loop, the Mile, and the Gold Coast. Shift began at 5 a.m., but I arrived at 4, to muck out the stables, and groom and feed Patterson. Dudley and I made it to Lake Michigan in enough time to watch the sun rise.   He is an excellent training officer, and I am enjoying my time with him and Ditka. Dudley is only two years from retirement, and has been on the mounted force for fifteen years.  There is something about him that reminds me of Dad, and in fact he is known affectionately among our regiment as “Papa D”. He is very patient and, unlike Dad, easy to talk to.  I do find myself discussing somewhat personal matters with him, as of late, and he always makes me feel very welcome to. He already knows Ma, Frannie, Maria and the kids even though he has not met any of them. 

He actually knows of Ray, and Ray of him, although the two of them have never met.  Ray was thrilled that I was training under him; I know that Ray worries about my safety even though I have assured him that I am as highly trained and alert as any other officer on the beat.

Papa D knows all about my living arrangement with Ray, as does everyone else, apparently.   I was pulled aside several weeks ago, after a brief visit from Ray, by one of the captains and asked if the rumors about Ray being my lover were true.  I assured him that they were, and he warned me to keep Ray away, that that kind of thing was not something that needed to be “flaunted”.  I told Papa D about this conversation later, and he became very agitated, and pointed out the discriminatory nature of these comments, to which I readily agreed. He later told me that he officially complained to the Commander about Captain Briggs on my behalf. Evidently the man was known for several incidences of making similar comments to two lesbians and one other gay man, and he had also been disciplined about his treatment of some of the African-American officers under his command.   

I mentioned the situation to Ray, who said if the man gave me any trouble, let him know, because he wouldn’t mind “coming back up there and busting up his face with a steel pipe.”  I should know better by now than to make incendiary remarks to Ray; it only gets him going.  From now on, I need to keep that sort of thing to myself and just manage any problems on my own.  Ray is doing extremely well in his new position, and I wasn’t about to have him jeopardize that with another run-in with Internal Affairs.

I believe that mostly the CPD uses the Mounted force as much for community goodwill as for law enforcement.  People are certainly drawn to the horses, especially children.  Officer Dudley and I spend a lot of time talking to children along our patrol.  I am happy to say that we have even hosted school groups that have toured the stables.  It is very rewarding, but I do find myself seriously considering Lt. Welsh’s repeated offers to come on board as a detective at the 27.  I think that would be fulfilling as well.

Many of my patrols have been spent doing crowd control at large venues; various sporting events, concerts, festivals and feasts.  At no time have I been in any serious danger nor have I encountered any actual crimes.  Not that I wish for crimes to happen, but I do sometimes long for more exciting adventures, like the ones Ray and I used to embark on from time to time. I miss those times when the two of us worked together practically hand in hand on a daily basis.

Things between Ray and me have been slightly strained as of late.  Ray has been working second shift for the past six months and we don’t spend very much time together.  He has always tended to be a bit of a night owl, and his late shifts have exacerbated that tendency.   He generally arrives home between nine-thirty and ten, and I try to stay awake that long, but often I am not successful, as I generally do rise early enough in the morning to get in a quick workout at the gym before starting my shift.  Ray generally sleeps until nine a.m. or so.  I try to call him most mornings when I can find a break, if I miss him the night prior.  If we are lucky, we share one day off together these days.

I find myself spending more and more time with Francesca, which Ray actively encourages.  She is, after all, going to be the mother of our children. She dragged me to a very silly movie called “Daddy Day Care” last weekend, which I found only slightly amusing at best, but Francesca enjoyed it.  I will say that it did make me ponder fatherhood later that night, as I lay in bed waiting for Ray to come home.  I’m not sure when I began to want this child for myself.  I thought I wanted him to please Ray, but lately, I’ve wanted it for me; I have become as excited as he.

 I am due at Francesca’s tomorrow night after shift.  This will be our third attempt at conception.  I am slightly worried at our lack of success so far, but Fran assures me that the third time will be the charm.  If we are not successful this month, however, I thought I might breach of subject of us seeing a fertility doctor.  I suppose we both assumed we were fertile, but perhaps we both should be tested. 

I am exhausted right now, but doing my best to wait up for Ray.  It’s been several days since we last had sex, and I want to tonight.  I hope he is in the mood.  He’s been a bit cantankerous of late, as there’s been quite a rise in crime on his beat this spring.  Warm weather, especially warm evenings, bring out the mischief in many citizens, and Ray is feeling quite a bit of stress, trying to see to both the safety and education of his trainees.

 Hopefully when he comes in and sees me lying here in the nude waiting for him, he will want to. I am feeling very horny right now. A crude word, but it precisely describes how I feel.  I am desperate for sex! The night is warm, a gentle breeze lifts the curtains next to me, and I am feeling tired yet content. I lack for nothing except my husband, here in our bed.

Ray has promised to take me to Yellowstone next month for my fortieth birthday if we can both arrange the time off with our superiors. I genuinely missed the Consulate at times like this; it was never an issue for me to arrange whatever days off I desired when I was essentially my own boss.

I also miss seeing Melissa, Charles, and even Turnbull on a daily basis.  It has been over a year since I retired from the RCMP, yet that life now seems like a distant memory.  Canada itself seems like a distant memory.  At odds times, just for a few seconds, I actually forget that I am not a native American.  Ray or someone else speaks of the past, asks me about some old Chicago landmark or institution or school, and I have to remind them, and myself for that matter, that I wasn’t living here in the sixties, the seventies, the eighties.   I find myself forgetting small details from the past, and that troubles me a little.  I don’t want to forget where I came from. I want our children to know where I came from too.  I’ve decided to pass these journals to the kids one day, once they become adults.  It makes me smile to think of them sitting and reading these words.  I hope it gives them as much comfort as reading my own father’s journals brought to me.

Must go. I hear Ray out in the hallway-- hear keys jingling.

Sunday May 11 2003

I attended Hugh and Sara’s graduation yesterday afternoon.  John Ayers accompanied me, as Ray refused to attend.  I will admit that I felt a pang of envy as Hugh walked across the stage and received his degree.  I wanted to return to school.  I missed it. I hoped to return as soon as my officer probation period was over; the CPD would then reimburse me for tuition.

John and I also drove us to Hugh and Sara’s joint graduation party yesterday evening.  It was nice to see the old group again, and there were many old friends from the Sierra Club in attendance also.  I promised John that I would do my best to get the free time to join them kayaking on the Fox River in July, as long as Ray didn’t mind..

Hugh is going to South America to continue to build houses for the impoverished of Colombia and Ecuador.  Right after the Memorial Day weekend, he is meeting our old friend Umberto in Quito, and the two of them will begin work full time for Habit for Humanity International.  Hugh had maintained for quite some time that he was going back to the Mid East to open a school there, but since 9-11, he has changed his mind.  He has nothing but contempt for that culture now, and wants nothing to do with them, unfortunately, yet another effect of the terrorist attacks.  He is very vehement in this, and I can’t convince him otherwise.

 I will admit only to myself and no other that for a time, I hated the people of the mid East as well.  It was a travesty as it was, but I also lost my beloved cousin Valerie on that day, making it all the more personal.  But eventually, I put my anger and hatred aside.  I would be as wrong as the terrorists if I hated an entire race of people for an act that a few perverse individuals had committed.

Hugh and I slipped away from the festivities later that night to talk.  He took me up to the roof of his apartment.  We both knew we would probably never see each other again.  Hugh had no immediate family or compellingly strong ties in the States, so he had no reason to come back on a regular basis. 

He wanted to put things right with me and make his peace.  He told me that one of the regrets of his life would be that he would not be my lover. He told me that he loved me, and I believed him.  He asked me for a kiss, and I suppose it was melancholy, or pity that made me say ‘yes’. 

The kiss was nice, pleasant enough, but I didn’t feel the passion that I had felt that first time, and Hugh sensed that.  Shortly after, he lead me down from the roof, we said our goodbyes at the front door.

I wished both Hugh and Sara well, and offered up my kudos to them.  Sara gave me a hug, Hugh shook my hand, and I departed, returning home on foot, as John was not quite ready to leave his friend.

The walk was a quick half-hour. Ray led Pearson on a leash, just coming up the front sidewalk when I turned the corner to our building.  Ray stopped and waited for me, smiling. “Hey, Ben-NY!” he called. Pearson barked excitedly as I approached.  I grabbed Ray and kissed him passionately, right there on our front stoop before he could say another word.  The sidewalk was peppered with pedestrians, folks on their way to Saturday night dates.  Someone whistled appreciatively as we kissed, and I finally pulled away.  Ray looked at me puzzled.  I didn’t offer any explanation, just leaned in and kissed him again. I pulled back, waiting for a reaction. Ray finally grinned again.  We still stood in each other’s arms while Ray caressed my upper arms.  “Okay, I don’t know what brought this on, but let’s get you straight to bed, Benny,” he said. I told him that I loved him. He took my hand.   He led me and Pearson into our building, giving me a playful slap on the rump as I passed through the door.  

Friday, June 20 2003

8:30 p.m.

The family came over to our apartment for my 40^th birthday, a small celebration, which we held a day early because Ray and I are rising at four a.m. tomorrow to catch a flight from Midway to Billings Montana. From Billings, we are renting a small camper and making the two hour drive to Yellowstone National Park. I am looking forward to seeing the western U.S. Ray and I only have two days in the park, but it was the most time we could string together between our schedules, and I was grateful to have it. 

We held the celebration late in the afternoon today so that Ray and I could get to bed early.  It was five-thirty when we finally finished our meal, cake and ice-cream, and I opened my first gift. I started to open Francesca’s small box first, but she hurriedly snatched it away from me, explaining that she wanted me to open hers last.

I really wished they wouldn’t get me presents at all; I don’t need anything.  But the family always insists. 

 I opened Maria and Tony’s first, then.  They were thoughtful enough to get me a gift certificate to Barnes and Nobles, and a very generous one at that.  Ma got me rosary beads made of genuine Venetian glass that she had ordered from Italy.  (We had all pitched in and gotten her a computer for Mother’s Day, and she was extremely proud to have made her first internet purchase!)

I then opened Ray’s gift- well his other gift!  (I received his first gift before dawn this morning, which involved him taking my pants off in the back of his squad car in the alley behind the apartment, but I don’t need to go into those kinds of private details here.) Ray’s gifts to me tonight were a book of Bob Seger sheet music for my guitar; the Essential Bob Dylan album, and two Paul Simon albums, Graceland and his Anthology.

“Oh Ray, Ray, Ray…this is too much.  Thank you!” I said.

“Yeah, well, I know how much you like these guys, and since you never buy anything for yourself, I figured I’d get them for ya.  Happy Birthday, Benny.”

“Thanks, Ray.” 

We leaned toward one another and exchanged a quick kiss, to sounds of feigned annoyance and exasperation from the room.

I finally got to Francesca’s gift, which she rather impatiently thrust in my hands after yanking me away from Ray.  The box was tiny, and beautifully wrapped in red wrapping paper.  I removed the white bow and the wrap, and opened the box.  Inside was a tiny red union suit, an exact, though miniature, version of my own red union suits that I still favored as winter nightwear, although Ray detested them (“Too many buttons, Benny”, he always complained.)   I took the small garment from the box, and held it up.  The room was so quiet that one could hear the proverbial pin drop. 

I looked at Francesca, questioningly, and she bit her lip, grinning.  “Is this? Are you?” I asked.

“I’M PREGNANT!!” she screamed, and the room erupted in screams.  Maria and Fran both screamed in delight, Ma began to cry, and Ray literally leapt from his seat and picked up his little sister, engulfing her in his embrace.    Tony patted both me and Ray on the back. 

Ray said to his sister after the noise subsided.  “Well, this is just great, you’ve upstaged me again! It’s like being sixteen all over again.”  We all burst out laughing.

Francesca held out her arms to me at last, and like Ray, I picked her up, squeezing her.  “Thank you,” I said.  “Thank you.”

It was an inadequate thing to say.  But how does one thank someone for giving them everything?

Her due date is February 11, 2004. Our child would arrive just before Valentine’s Day, a perfect little symbol of our love.