The other morning, I was on the phone with JD while he detailed a particularly grueling work night. He told me about a call he went to where he and the other officer he was with drew their weapons on a guy as he came out of his house.
"Wow," I replied. "That's big. You never have to draw your weapon."
There was a pause.
"Jenny," JD began in that sympathetic tone you use when you're about to break someone's poor, naive little heart, "I draw my gun at least once a week."
"Oh," I replied as my heart sank a little.
What was I thinking? JD works in the most dangerous part of the city. Of course he's drawn his weapon more than once or twice.
(As a sidenote, remember that drawing does NOT equal firing. But yes, if some dude comes charging out of his house in a rage, the police are going to have their weapons drawn until they know what they're dealing with for sure.)
I was under the assumption that JD told me everything about his work day, mostly because I didn't think he could keep secrets from me. He always wants to tell me when he buys me a gift (waiting till my birthday, Christmas, our anniversary, or whatever event we happen to be celebrating is torturous for him). He forgets when people tell him those "don't tell anyone but..." pieces of info and lets the secret slip the next time the topic arises. Naturally, I assumed he's been sharing every significant work detail with me all along. As it turns out, when it comes to his work, he can keep secrets because he wants to protect me from worrying.
The bad news is, he can hide things from me after all. Crap. The good news is, I know he's always on top of his game and whatever the city decides to throw his way. It sounds scary, but I'd rather have a husband who's prepared to do what it takes to come home every day than have a husband who is so busy giving people the benefit of the doubt, he never comes home again.
In other news, he kicked in someone's door last night to save a woman who was screaming for help. Just another day at the office....
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