Gatac

  Sean’s thin fingers probed under the colr of his striped cotton shirt. It was the best shirt he owned and he didn’t want to risk damaging it, but damn it, it was too tight around his neck, even with the top button open. Then again, with this summer, any and all clothing was too hot, too tight and too cmmy. Sean figured that if he couldn’t get away from the heat just sitting on a bench in the shade of a Bradford1A cultivar of callery pear known for looking very nice initially but being kind of a pain to keep looking nice, as they’re liable to lose branches in storms., then it was just about hopeless. What was the closest water again? Mile and a half to the Naval Yard? Because going buck naked and jumping into the Hudson was starting to have a certain appeal to Sean and he didn’t like how much it occupied his thoughts. In his thoughts being so occupied, he wiped his sweaty brow with the cuff of his shirt, then realized what he had done and cussed silently. Not like he didn’t already have enough sweat in the shirt to justify a trip to the cleaners, but he didn’t have to add to it, did he? He unfurled a silk handkerchief — one of his Dad’s prized possessions — and wiped his brow again with it. He had hardly any sweat left to wipe off, but it was the thought that counted.

  “Here you go, cowboy,” Ada said. Detective Second Grade Ada Eason, to be exact, and clearly deserving of her retive position of authority over Sean because unlike him, she hadn’t made a mess of her clothing, despite holding out an ice cream cone for him while licking her own. At five feet four, this was one of the rare moments where she got to truly enjoy looming over Sean.“Thanks, mom,” Sean said, getting his daily dig in bright and early. Ha ha, you have a family, Ada. Hi-fucking-rious. “Medina is still in there,” Sean said, his eyes scanning the entrance of the apartment block across Lafayette Avenue. It only had six floors and a tiny balcony for each unit, which put it two up on Sean’s home.“What’s the pn?” Ada asked him. She was already halfway through her strawberry ice cream. Well, ‘strawberry’, but that was a discussion about fvors natural and artificial Sean didn’t need to have again. Ada liked the fake taste even knowing it was fake. There was nothing left to argue with such a point of view.2There’s a lot to unpack here.One, while the distinction between ‘artificial’ and ‘natural’ fvors often touted on processed food marketed as premium product is rgely a wash from a chemistry point of view, it is quite noticeable that foods made with a natural ingredient (to wit: actual strawberries) are going to taste different from those that are made with added aromas, simply because the taste of something comes down to a complex interpy of different parts adding different things. Some things are comparatively easy; get a whiff of isoamyl acetate and it’ll smell uncannily like banana, for example, to the point where it is a major ingredient in artificial banana fvorings. The fvor of strawberries, on the other hand, is markedly more complex, to the point where I’d argue that the artificially fvored ‘strawberry’ ice cream Ada’s eating here is actually a distinct fvor in itself, nevermind the variations in ‘natural’ fvors by strain of strawberry or its ripeness.Two, ‘natural’ is not axiomatically better. It is often more complex, undergoing a sort of evolution in your mouth as different aspects make themselves known. There’s a start and a change and a finish and the usually less desirable aftertaste, potentially, and if you read the right reviews (usually for fancy alcohol) you’re gonna hear all about that. A lot of people may prefer or at least cim to prefer such complexity, but in my view, whichever way your pate swings is your business. I do recommend you go out and try new things even if they’re different from what you’re used to or sound unappetizing at first gnce, but that’s all I recommend — trying. If it’s not for you, cool.Three, if we were in an ice cream eating competition, you pausing to read all this would be about the head start I’d need to have a chance. What can I say? I’m a slowpoke.“Okay, so,” Sean began. “Girlfriend starts her lunch break in five, comes right over. We follow her in, fly casual. Wait at the door to 4A long enough for her to get the loot out. We go in, we catch them both with the goods.”“Warrant?” Ada asked.“Right here,” Sean said, tapping the side of his jacket.“We’re authorized to search…” Ada hinted.“Per the warrant, the foyer, the living room and all persons encountered therein,” Sean said. “Specifically, we’re interested in watches, jewelry and other premium fashion items.”“The other rooms?” Ada probed.“No bueno,” Sean said.“Except…” Ada asked.“Pin sight exception,” Sean finished.“Good,” Ada said. Somehow, she had demolished her ice cream cone over the course of the mini-briefing. Sean looked at his half-melted mess and dumped it into the trashcan next to the bench. As he did so, he spied one of the two persons of interest, one Tara A. Melby, the spitting image of her surveilnce pictures right down to her blue dress and reddish perm. “Looks like she punched out early,” Ada said. “You didn’t spook her?”“…I don’t know,” Sean said. “Don’t think I did, but…I don’t know.”“Well,” Ada said, “let’s not assume the worst. Pn’s good. You good?”“I’m good,” Sean said.“Then let’s move,” Ada said. “Your dance, cowboy.”

  Sean’s luck won them easy entrance to the complex, or rather, the iron w of apartment buildings: as the number of units increases, the chances of any one tenant just then going out on a walk with their dog or coming back from said walk asymptotically approach 100%. Squeezing past the barky chihuahua and her minder in the narrow foyer was another thing, then, but Sean and Ada got through after all, past the bank of mailboxes and the corkboard with the reminder that all windows in the common areas were to be kept closed. Getting up even a half stair intensified the sweating on Sean’s back another notch, and while he was in too good a shape to be gasping for air by the fourth story, the little handrail at the stairway nding did a lot of work to keep him from taking a seat on the steps. Out came the handkerchief again, wiping down brow and hands. He gnced over to Ava, who was doing the same moves, but with a wet nap pocketed from a visit at a family-style restaurant. The ice cream in Sean’s stomach seemed less substantial after such a vision of carbohydrate indulgence. Once you get the colr, Sean promised himself.

  With a nod from Ada, Sean pushed his right hand toward his belt, drawing back his jacket both for his badge holder and the holster of his service revolver. Sean pushed everything but the situation from his mind, approached the door to 4A and paused, straining to hear the people inside. Were they celebrating, arguing, pnning the next robbery? He couldn’t make out the words. But if they were talking, odds were good the loot was in py, he thought. With another breath, he drew back his free left hand and balled it. He pced three firm knocks on the door.

  “NYPD,” he announced himself. “Open the door.” After a moment, he added “We have a warrant to search these premises. Open the door, now.”

  He stepped away from the door, forcing Ada to back up onto the stairs leading to the final story of the building. Everything around them was quiet and the way Ada had her right hand on the handle of her revolver inspired no confidence in Sean. Well, rather, the wrong type of confidence. If they were gonna have to kick in the door — well, that’s how it would be. Sean told himself he was ready for that. The door opened just as wide as the security chain was long. Sean got another view of Tara A. Melby through the gap: not ready for the close-up, eyes wide without innocence, harsh light from the foyer mps behind her.

  “…hello?” she said.Sean reached for his ID holder and flipped it open. “NYPD, Ma’am,” Sean said. “I’m Detective Collins, my partner Detective Eason. Open the door.”“Yes, I…” Melby struggled.“We have a warrant,” Ada said from behind Sean.“Right,” Sean said, turning to nod to his partner for just a moment. The door closed, but by the time he had the warrant out of his jacket, the door opened again, without the chain in the way of its travel.“Please come in,” Melby said, stepping aside without looking at the piece of paper that would destroy her. She was shrunk on herself, knew she had no choice, but the pretense of inviting someone who was going to come in anyway let her hold on to a shred of power over the situation. “I’m, um,” she continued as Sean brushed past her. “Can I help you, Detectives?”“Please just stay where you are, Ma’am,” Ada said, taking up position inside the door, between Melby and her freedom. “We won’t be long.”“You live here alone?” Sean asked, pocketing the warrant again as he entered the living room. Quick scan: TV running but muted. Home shopping channel? Big dreams at bargain prices, that tracked with what he thought about Melby. AC running, well, struggling. One small piece of luggage, filled close to bursting. Half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table, no smell of alcohol on Melby’s breath. Probable consumer: his guy, one Daniel Medina. Sean lingered a moment too long on a closed door, presumably leading to the bedroom. He figured Medina was in there. Safety check would justify going in, no matter the warrant’s restrictions, but they weren’t breaching, so they were too slow to surprise anyone. Going in meant giving Medina a free shot at them. No, that was not the move. Instead, Sean hoped he’d be able to provoke him into coming out.“I, uh, I have a friend,” Melby said. Didn’t say where he was and Sean didn’t pry. She entered the living room behind Sean, tried to stay away from his searching gaze. Sean’s eyes fell on her handbag propped up against the little gss-topped table. It had a scuffed, achingly yellow vinyl body and a repcement shoulder strap that wasn’t even close to a matching tone.“Whose handbag is that?” he demanded.“That’s mine,” Melby said.“That’s yours,” Sean affirmed. “Okay, Ma’am. Open the bag and empty it out.” After a moment, he added a perfunctory “Please.”

  Melby walked past Sean with bowed head. Just before she touched the bag, she looked up to Sean, searching for a way out, but Sean’s slight nod gave her none. Melby struggled with the bag’s top zipper for a few seconds, long enough to turn to Sean again with a nervous ‘whatcha gonna do’ smile, but she knew it wouldn’t save her. She took a knee. The zipper was coerced, the bag opened, its contents gingerly shaken free and dumped onto the shag carpet flooring. Among the small pile, Sean registered two golden neckces with cold envy. This woman…this criminal…had things more valuable than he’d ever dare to waste money on. People had worked for those and she’d just taken them. How could she possibly think this was how it worked?

  “Those neckces, they’re yours?” he asked. Melby didn’t answer him. “Ma’am,” he insisted. “Are these your neckces?”Melby shook her head.“Here’s what I know, Ma’am,” Sean said. “One, your boyfriend. His name is Daniel Medina and he’s a person of interest in the crime we’re investigating. He has prior convictions for assault and theft. Two, you work at Brown’s. They got those ultrasonic cleaners for jewelry, right? People can come in, drop off their stuff and get it back shiny. Three, those neckces there might have a sticker price of, say, five hundo. Sounds good, but sticker price is sticker price. I wouldn’t expect to flip them for more than two.” He softened his voice. “You have a choice now, Ma’am.”“Don’t say nothing!” came the shout from behind the door.Sean’s right hand was on the handle of his gun while his left signaled Melby to stay where she was. He backed up a half-step, as best as he could manage in the small room. Another gnce at Melby: her in the middle of the room put her in front of the bedroom door, right in the line of fire Sean was leaving. “NYPD!” he called out. “Sir, are you armed?”“Leave us the hell alone!” the voice shouted.“Sir, are you armed?” Sean repeated.“You fuckers!” the voice replied.“Danny!” Melby cried.“Ma’am!” Sean called to her.

  Then she got up off the floor and crossed in front of Sean toward the bedroom door. He had a split second to decide whether to grab her or draw his gun. He went for the gun just as the door opened. Out stepped Danny Medina, all two-hundred and seven pounds of him and another pound of sweat in his underwear. He looked like he’d st had a shave during the Carter administration and the boot knife he was gripping seemed ridiculously small in his left hand, even more as he held it out in front of him. Sean knew this was a bad pce to be in. He had his gun up, but his back to the wall. No way to create more distance, not in here.

  “Drop it!” Sean demanded. Ada was shouting from behind. Probably the same thing.“Fuck you!” Medina said.“Sir, drop the weapon!” Sean said.“Danny!” Melby cried.

  And so on and so forth for about ten seconds, as the pyers shuffled over the stage, trying to improve their angles. Medina got closer to Melby, Sean closer to the windowfront. Ada pushed forward through the foyer. One of Melby’s hands was wrapped in Medina’s, the other on his shoulder as she drew closer to him.

  “Fuck you!” Medina shouted again, tears forming in his eyes. “Fuck you!”“Sir,” Sean growled, half of the muscles in his neck dedicated to the task of blocking his heart’s escape route. “Put. Down. The. Weapon.”“Easy now, Medina,” Ada said, standing at the threshold between foyer and living room, just off the shag carpet. “Stand down.”

  Afterwards, nobody would be quite sure of the order in which the following three things happened. Certainly they happened very close to one another, maybe in the same heartbeat, but there was no instant repy avaible to make sense of them after the fact. There would be theories, of course. But all anyone would be able to say with any degree of certainty was there were three things that happened in the apartment after Detective Ada Eason told Danny Medina to stand down.

  A, Melby screamed. B, Medina’s knife rose. C, Sean pulled the trigger.

  Then — chronology clear once more — Ada pulled the trigger, too. Sean fired again, Ada fired again. Again and again and again. Sean took one loud click of the spurless hammer falling on an empty chamber to stop, while Ada just stood frozen in pce. The AC whirred. The TV continued to make no sound at all.

  Sean had a new, more expensive best shirt. Its colr was still too tight, though, and he was sweating for it. His seating was just as hard as the outdoor bench. The air was cooler, though. Conference rooms in police precincts had a pretty high priority for working ACs. Sean was seated on one side of the big table, with Lt. Juan Foster from the union there as backup. Foster had helped Sean pick his suit, too. Foster had endured a lot of crying and shouting to help Sean prepare for his statement. Foster would help him see this through, had already gotten him through the first half hour.

  “Alright, so you entered the residence,” the review board member said. Sean looked at him for the twentieth time and still had no good read on him, beyond the superficial. Middle-aged and bald, pinclothes. NYPD firearms instructor. Sean knew he was the best ticket out of this but for the life of him couldn’t remember the name. ‘Sir’ would have to do. “What happened after that, Detective?”“I saw a handbag on the living room floor, Sir,” Sean recounted. “It appeared to be the one Ms. Melby had been carrying with her, and I had the suspicion it contained stolen goods. Mr. Medina was not visible to us at that time. I asked Ms. Melby whether it was hers and she confirmed it. I then ordered Ms. Melby to open the handbag and empty it out.”“What did that reveal?” the instructor asked.“Aside from, you know, the usual contents of a handbag…” Sean said. Smiled nervously. No, stop, Sean. You’re not here to charm anyone. He took a breath. “There were two gold neckces. CSU ter found a few watches in side pockets as well. Anyway, I was certain these were the items she had stolen for Mr. Medina, Sir.”“Mr. Medina’s involvement was a certainty in your mind?” another board member asked. Detective Lebnc from the 37th; Sean remembered her name, at least. She’d been listening but barely, her nose buried in the records. Hearing no immediate reply, she gnced up, pushing her big-frame gsses back into pce.“…there’s certain and there’s certain, Ma’am,” Sean said. What a not at all confusing way to phrase it, Sean, but don’t worry, it’s just on the record for the hearing that decides the rest of your life. Nice going. “I’ll rephrase that. I was reasonably certain Mr. Medina had enticed Ms. Melby to steal the jewelry, but I didn’t have any proof of that, so my mind was not set on it. I…believed suggesting the possibility of her acting on Mr. Medina’s orders would get her cooperation.”“Did it?” Lebnc asked. In the harsh light, Sean could see some soft fuzz over her lip. Not a beard or even stubble, just…hair where he hadn’t imagined there would be. Probably no more and no less than any other woman. Had he ever looked at a woman’s face long enough to notice such things?

  Foster nudged Sean. Sean nodded.

  “Would you please provide a verbal answer, Detective Collins,” the instructor ordered. “For the record.”“Yes, Sir,” Sean said. “Like I said, Ms. Melby did cooperate after that.”“So you saw the items in question,” the instructor said. “Did Ms. Melby admit they were stolen?”Sean nodded again. “She was about to, Sir,” he said.“So she didn’t,” Lebnc said.“No, Ma’am, she didn’t confess out loud,” Sean crified.“You said she was about to,” Lebnc said.“I was sure of that,” Sean said. “I mean, I…I asked her if they were her neckces. She shook her head.”“So you were certain she stole them on Medina’s orders, and then you were sure she was about to confess it,” Lebnc said. Sean squirmed in his seat. She wasn’t…his gut wanted to say she was twisting things around on him, but he had said that, hadn’t he? “What made you so sure?” Lebnc asked.“…experience, Ma’am,” Sean said.“I don’t think we need to bebor the point,” the instructor said. “So you believed she was about to confess. What happened then, Detective?”Sean nodded. Why do you keep nodding, Sean? Words. Use them. “That’s when Mr. Medina announced himself from the bedroom and told her to keep quiet,” he said. Okay. Back on track.“Detective Eason’s account includes some…colorful nguage from Mr. Medina at this point,” Lebnc said. “You heard that, too, Detective Collins?”“Yes, Ma’am,” Sean said. “He told Ms. Melby to stop talking and ordered us to leave. Just, you know, crudely.”“Go on, please,” Lebnc said.Sean didn’t nod. “At that point, I…Detective Eason and I tried to secure Ms. Melby. But Mr. Medina burst out of the bedroom with his weapon —”“Excuse me, Detective,” the instructor said. “By ‘weapon’, you are referring to the knife found at the scene?”“Yes, Sir,” Sean said.“Continue,” the instructor said.

  Sean took a deep breath. This was the part he had practiced the most with Foster, simply because it had been hardest to figure out. Not that he had figured it out.

  “I don’t remember what exactly Mr. Medina said at this point,” Sean said. “The safety of my partner and Ms. Melby became my prime concern. I heard Detective Eason order Mr. Medina to drop the weapon. I repeated the order. Mr. Medina grabbed for Ms. Melby. She didn’t appear to resist.” Sean swallowed a drop of saliva. “Then he moved toward Detective Eason. We both opened fire.”“What was your intention in discharging your service weapon in this particur moment?” the instructor asked.“My intention was to stop Mr. Medina from harming anyone, Sir,” Sean said. “I recognized he had turned into an active threat at that time.”“And how would you describe the nature of the threat Mr. Medina posed?” the instructor asked. “Considering the circumstances.”“Imminent and lethal, Sir,” Sean said. “I had no doubt whatsoever that if Mr. Medina was not stopped right then and there, he would go on to use his weapon on either Ms. Melby or us.”“In light of this,” the instructor asked, “how do you account for the shots that hit Ms. Melby?”

  Sean balled his right hand into a fist. Foster put a hand on his shoulder.

  “She was…” Sean began. “She was in our line of fire.” He couldn’t help it at this point. It didn’t matter how often he had said it to Foster or the mirror or the ceiling of his apartment. He choked down a sob. “My line of fire. She was like a…like a human shield, between me and Mr. Medina.”“Do you believe that Mr. Medina pced her there deliberately?” Lebnc asked. “Calling her a ‘human shield’ suggests intent.”Sean didn’t answer.“I believe Detective Collins is talking about the geometry of the engagement,” Foster spoke up for him. “He can’t be expected to know Mr. Medina’s motivations.”“No, he cannot,” Lebnc said. “You are talking about the retive positions, Detective?” she asked.“Yes, Ma’am,” Sean said. “Like Lieutenant Foster said. The…geometry of the engagement, Ma’am. Ms. Melby was between us and Mr. Medina. I don’t know why she was there.”“And you had no intent to fire on Ms. Melby?” Lebnc asked.“No, Ma’am,” Sean said. “No,” he added as a whisper.“Let’s move on, if there are no other questions?” the instructor said. “So, both Detective Eason and you discharged your service weapons, and the shots hit Ms. Melby and Mr. Medina.”“Yes, Sir,” Sean said. “With the…imminent threat removed, we went on to provide first aid. Well, I…I provided first aid, Detective Eason called for emergency services. On the apartment’s phone.”Lebnc looked down at her notes. “Can you expin to us how you two arrived at this decision?”“…no, Ma’am,” Sean said. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I don’t know, Ma’am. It didn’t feel like we really made a decision, we just…we did what we did.” He squeezed his hand into a fist. “What we were trained to do. We needed ambunces rolling as soon as possible.”Lebnc nodded. “Responding officers reported finding you still attempting to revive Ms. Melby,” she said. “However, Mr. Medina —”“Ma’am —” Sean cut in.“Detective —”“Ma’am, if your question is why I wasn’t —” Sean said, then felt the hand of Foster on his shoulder again. Shut up, Sean. Let the detective ask her question.“I know this is difficult, but please let me finish,” Lebnc said. “My question is, why did your partner and you discontinue first aid of Mr. Medina?”

  Sean swallowed hard. One breath wasn’t enough. Two barely. He looked to Foster.

  “Ma’am,” Foster said, “as the coroner’s report shows, Mr. Medina had received at least two GSWs to his head.”“I know,” Lebnc said quietly. “But we have to consider how it affected Detective Collins’s decisions. And, if you don’t mind, Lieutenant, I would like to hear this in Detective Collins’s own words.”“His brains were blown all over the floor,” Sean said slowly. “He was…he was gone. I knew there was nothing I could do…anyone could do for him. I mean, I tried to help him, of course I tried to help him, but Melby was…she still had a pulse. I had to try and save her.”“…thank you, Detective,” Lebnc said.Sean looked down. “That was the right call, wasn’t it?” he asked the room.“We’re not here to determine that, Detective Collins,” the instructor said. “None of our questions should be construed as passing judgment on Detective Eason’s or your performance. I would like everyone here to remember that our task is to establish the facts to the best of our ability.”“Yes Sir,” Sean said.

  The facts.

  “Of course, Sir,” Sean said.

  The temperature outside the precinct was…normal. Completely fucking normal. The day, the city, the whole world went on like this. Normal. Ada was waiting for him outside. Normal, too, except not. The way Sean knew her, she had cruised through her own hearing but died a thousand deaths worrying about Sean. People worried about Sean a lot. Sean wasn’t sure how to take it, but he tried to pretend that it felt good, that worrying was the same as caring. He walked down the steps of the precinct, to where Ada was waiting. Neither jumped to hug the other. Sean was sure she wanted to because he wanted to and what could be more normal, more human than what he wanted? But he kept back. He wasn’t going to lose it. Not now.

  “You good, cowboy?” Ada asked him.“Depends,” Sean said. “You good, mom?”Ada dared to smile. “I’ll be so you are and we can get on with it,” she said. “So, I don’t know how they were with you, but what I hear — well, Foster didn’t say anything because nobody told him anything, you understand, but I hear it’s enough for a good shoot. If you didn’t embarrass yourself in there, we’re probably off the hook.”“Great,” Sean said. “That’s great.”“Let’s walk, cowboy,” Ada said.“Let’s,” Sean agreed.

  They walked, long enough that Sean wasn’t so sure what street they were on when he was in a pce to pay attention to anything outside himself, but then again, he wasn’t sure anything would look familiar to him. It was a street. There were people. Nobody was trying to kill him.

  Good enough.

  “So,” he said. “Fuck.”“Yeah,” Ada said. “Sean, about that…” He gave her a chance to finish. She didn’t take it.“About that,” he echoed. “Did we…”“It was a shitty situation,” Ada said. “But it doesn’t matter how it feels or how it looks or how sorry we are. If it comes out a good shoot, it’s a good shoot. That’s what’s real.”“Still,” Sean protested.“Don’t,” Ada said. “Don’t do this to yourself, cowboy. And don’t do it to me.”Sean cracked a grin. “Worried you were sounding too selfless there?” he asked.“Heh,” Ada said. “I guess.”

  They took about twenty more steps between them.

  “Don’t do what?” Sean asked. “Question myself?”“Questions are fine,” Ada said. “As long as you get to an answer. Question: was it the right move? Answer: yes, it was, because it was the only move.”“Bullshit,” Sean said.

  More walking.

  “Thought you were gonna expin,” Ada said.“What’s to expin?” Sean said.“Sean, you can’t just say ‘bullshit’ like that,” Ada said. “That’s not an argument. Hell, it means nothing. My boy could say the word and he’s still in nappies. But, okay. Say it wasn’t the only move. So what else would you have done?”“I don’t know!” Sean said. “You think I haven’t been asking myself that? I. Don’t. Know. But there’s got to be another way, something else…there’s always another way, and —”“Just shut the hell up, please,” Ada said. “This here? This is the exact shit I just told you not to do, Sean. You go down that road, you’re never gonna stop doubting yourself. You had a week to think about this, you went over this a thousand times with Foster, because I went over it a thousand times with Foster. I don’t know about you but I think if there was an answer, one of us would have found it. So, what else could you have done to stop Medina? Karate kick the knife out of his hand? Shoot him through the door before he came in? Give him a heart attack with your Jedi powers?”

  Not gone in to execute the warrant with both Melby and Medina in there. Backed down from his challenge. Hell, even just lowered their guns and with that, maybe, the temperature in the room. Those were all answers Sean had come up with. He didn’t have faith in any of them but he refused to just dismiss them. And he didn’t dare to say any of them out loud, not now, not like this. He told himself he couldn’t do that to Ada, take her certainty from her. But he was afraid of the same certainty, afraid of having his flights of fancy called just that, afraid of resigning himself —

  “You know what I think?” Ada said. “You don’t actually believe you’ll eureka this, you’re too smart for that, but I know you want there to be an answer. And you think having the answer will let you move on, will let you learn a lesson, will give you power over it. Now you ask me, that’s the real bullshit here. You can’t second-guess your way out of this one, Sean. It was what it was. You knew what you knew going in, you had the options you had, you did what you did. That’s all.”“Well, it’s just real fucking convenient,” Sean said.“What’s convenient?” Ada asked. “That you’re still alive enough to think you shouldn’t be? Cool if that’s convenient for you, because it’s turning you into a real pain in my ass.”

  More walking.

  “I don’t care what you think about the shoot,” Ada said. “You think what you think. But do you think you’re ever gonna have a shoot that you feel good about, huh? You think3Deliberate use of semantic depletion of 'think' to transport how Ada loses Sean over the course of what she’s saying. Your call on whether it works. you’re ever gonna drop bodies and and go, well fuck me, what a great ride, where do I get in line again?” She snorted. “It’s never gonna feel right, Sean. You’ll just have to believe me.”“Maybe,” Sean admitted. “But if it never feels right, and you accept it never feels right, how do you know when you fucked up?”

  Ada said nothing. More walking.

  “So, yeah,” Sean said. “That’s why I’m at ‘fuck’.”“Gotcha,” Ada said. “I heard you put in for the six-four?”“Yeah,” Sean said. “OCCB. Supposed to be a meatgrinder. Always need more bodies at desks.” He paused. “Supposed to be boring.”“Hrm,” Ada said. “Alright.”“Alright?” Sean asked.“Better than just quitting, I guess,” Ada said.“Gd you approve, mom,” Sean said.Ada rolled her eyes. “Look, cowboy,” she said, “up until two minutes ago I believed in you. I still want to. But if that’s how you feel about things…if that’s how you feel, maybe you should be riding a desk. I sure as hell don’t want you as a partner like this. When I go out there, I’m not looking for a fight, okay? But I know there’ll be days the fight is looking for me, and I need to know the guy by my side is gonna do it when it needs to get done. I need to know we’re on the same page about that. And I don’t know that anymore, about you.”“…fair enough,” Sean said. “Sorry.”“Just…” Ada said. “I hope you find your way again, Sean.”