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Three hours, one bedding change, lots of puke and tears, two warm showers, and a couple of hydration popsicles from the freezer — I didn’t even know we had such a thing — later, the girls are finally asleep again.
Ellie was incredible, she sprang into action and switched me every few minutes so she could comfort both of them. Eventually, I brought Liliana back upstairs and we all sat on the cool bathroom floor. Ellie was so unruffled and reassuring the whole time. She handled the mess, the sickness, and the tears with ease. Meanwhile, I was over here feeling helpless.
Sure, I’ve handled dozens of tragedies involving blood, guts, and bodily fluids in the last twelve years, but it’s humbling to see my own sick, innocent little girls hovering over a toilet bowl crying as they wrench. Ellie knew exactly what to do and I stood back in awe of her.
I’m standing in the doorway of the girls’ bedroom, watching all my girls sleep. Ellie crawled into Liliana's bed to help her settle and Olivia joined them before they all fell asleep together. Ellie has both girls wrapped in her arms as she cuddles them tightly, and my heart swells at her love for them.
I check on the boys on my way to our room and they’re knocked out cold. How they slept through all that, I’ll never know, but I’m grateful they did. I need to get some sleep because briefing is in six hours.
The following morning, I’m up, dressed, and out of the house before anyone wakes up. I check on everyone before I leave. The girls are still asleep in Ellie’s arms, which have to be killing her at this point, but they haven’t moved.
Thankfully, it’s Sunday and they have a day to recover. Seeing how short-lived the puking was, I’m going to say it was food poisoning from the funnel cake my mother bought them while the boys were on a ride with Dave and Nancy. I’m grateful the boys missed one hell of a puke fest.
When I get to the station, I walk in and see Joe talking with some of the guys. I overhear the word Ocean Outfitters and immediately my ears perk up.
I change directions to join their conversation. “What’s that about Ocean Outfitters?”
“Looks like the same guys broke into Carly’s Candy Shop on Main last night. Same forced entry, a ton of random inventory was stolen, and the place was ransacked.”
What the hell?
My jaw tenses as I feel the heat creep up my neck. “I don’t get why these assholes are hitting local businesses. What do they gain from all of it?”
“Their motivation isn’t clear yet,” Joe replies.
Another officer pipes up, “I wonder if the point is to be assholes? We’ve seen it before. Some of the city’s finest causing trouble for shits and giggles.”
“Yeah. We caught those assholes and we’re going to catch these, too, ” I say. “I’ll make contact with the other Main Street and surrounding businesses this week to make sure their security is tight and they don’t have physical vulnerabilities.”
“Sounds good,” Joe says.
When I get to the locker room, I put my stuff away and get my duty belt on, and head out for another long shift.
The day continues as usual — accidents, calls, traffic stops — until I get a text from Ellie a few hours later. My heart beat speeds up at her name on the screen.
Ellie: Hey. Girls seem to be doing better. No vomiting since last night and they’re playing like normal. No fever either so I wonder if it was something they ate.
Marco: I was thinking it was the funnel cake my mom bought them.
Ellie: Sounds about right. Well, have a good day. Be safe. I love you.
Marco: We need to talk.
Ellie: Yeah but over a text message while you’re at work is not how I want to do it.
Marco: I know but tonight?
Ellie: Sure.
Marco: Okay, I love you so much, Ellie. I hope you know that.
Ellie: I do. And I love you too, more than anything. See you tonight.
It’s killing me that there’s so much left unsaid. I know she’s upset still because I overreacted, and I didn’t mean to hurt her. I’m just not sure what she wants from me here.
The rest of the day goes by in a blur. Minutes before my shift ends we get another call of an alarm at a small business and I send Ellie the customaryI’m going to be late, and I have no idea when I’ll be hometext.
I’m hoping like hell it’s a false alarm, but I jam over there in a hurry in case it’s not. Upon arrival, I mark myself at the business with dispatch and ask for a cover unit when I see the glass front door is smashed to pieces.
