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more quietly than usual, waited until Eric left before he finally unloaded his Irish side, angry that I’d confronted Bobby Delphy on my own. Too tired to argue, I told him we could talk about it later. He took a deep breath and walked over to me and kissed my forehead.
    “I’m sorry. I spoke before I thought. Like Eric said, you scared the living shit out of all of us. I know you had no control over what happened, and I’m just thankful you’re okay. If I could walk upstairs and put a pillow over that asshole’s face, I would. Maybe I will, but you’re alive, which means you were able to take care of yourself. Remember, you’re still my baby girl, and I’ll always worry about you. I was just spouting off and shouldn’t have.”
    I promptly forgave my father, and for the next half hour or so, we talked calmly about what had happened. Dad said I was smart to grab the pepper spray. Ever since we began using Tasers, a lot of cops have forgotten that we have the pepper spray, and some have even taken it off their gun belt altogether. Legally, I would have been justified in using deadly force on Bobby Delphy since he was trying to take my gun. Had I carried a back-up gun on my ankle or somewhere else, I would have. Even Dad agreed, however, that the best thing I did was to keep my gun in its holster. If, for a split second, I’d been able to get it out, Delphy would’ve surely taken it from me, as close as he was, and as strong as he was.
    I asked Dad if he had gotten hold of my brother, Tony, and if Tony had called my mom. He answered yes to both questions, then said that he’d told Tony that neither he nor my mom should bother coming until I was out of the hospital, and that my injuries were minor.
    That was fine; I didn’t think I could have dealt with the drama of my mom just then.
    Later on, after my Dad had left and before Eric got back, Captain Kincaid and Chief Raines came to see me. Kincaid was going out of her way to be nice, and it seemed she was actually sincere about it. I gave my statement on a tape recorder, exchanged pleasant small talk, and they left.
    I was glad to be alone for a while. I buzzed the nurse for some more pain medication and dozed off after she’d given it to me. I then proceeded to have a horrible dream about the whole Delphy incident, except I was unable to fight back, as in the dream my whole body was paralyzed and I couldn’t scream. I probably slept for half of an hour, total.
    The next morning I felt much more alert and in much less pain. I finally broke down and looked at myself in a mirror, which ignited a moderate cry in my throat. I looked as if I had been in a car wreck—several car wrecks, to be exact. I got myself together emotionally, then I dressed and showered, which made me feel even better. A nurse came in after that and gave me a final look-over and I was free to leave. As I sat and waited for Eric to pick me up, the only thing I could think of was how much I craved a cigarette.
    Eric finally arrived and we went home. I relaxed and visited with the girls, not thinking about anything but my family. That night, I took a long, hot bubble bath, and drank about a thousand beers. The hot water, beer, and pain medication put me into what might as well have been a coma for the night, and I slept for exactly thirteen hours. When I woke up, not only did I have to pee something awful, I also felt generally like shit. I decided I would forego the beer and pain medication for the remainder of my time off. The rest of the week, I spent with Eric and the girls, trying to keep my mind off Bobby Delphy.
    Towards the end of the week, Coop and Cindy brought the kids over and we cooked out. Coop said Delphy was released from the hospital the day before, taken straight to the county jail, and booked in. He told us that he’d paid Delphy a little visit, and reported that Delphy’d done nothing but stare at his cell wall and rock back and forth. Except for muttering the name Lizzie