Veil of Silence

by K'Anne Meinel

  “It’s crowning,” was heard.

  “Push, baby,” Heather encouraged.

  “What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing?” she managed to get out despite the pain. She gasped as she attempted to push the bowling ball out from between her legs. She heard the baby begin to cry and it encouraged her. “What is it, a boy or a girl?” she eagerly asked. She, like Hayley, hoped it would be a boy to even things up in the house. Poor Amir was inundated by female estrogen in that household.

  “Well, they don’t put the sex on the head so you are going to have to give me a few more strong pushes,” Doctor Cook said sarcastically, but with enough humor that they all either laughed or smiled at her reply. She’d probably said it a million times to other mothers.

  Marsha complied, pushing as though her life depended on it, feeling a gush of fluid as the baby slipped from her body. She also felt a mighty pain as her body contracted again and again, releasing the muscles from the birth of the child.

  Doctor Cook looked up and smiled. “You have a boy,” she announced proudly and held him up. “Would you like to hold him?”

  Marsha looked at the crying baby, bloody and covered with amniotic fluid, blood, and gunk, and shook her head. “No,” she said clearly and distinctly.

  Heather looked startled and glanced at the doctor. She remembered Marsha hadn’t wanted to hold Hayley either.

  “Don’t worry about it, this frequently happens,” Doctor Cook assured her as she reached for the scissors. “You want to cut the cord?” she offered Heather who eagerly stepped forward, releasing Marsha’s hand as her wife collapsed, exhausted, against the bed. Marsha looked up at the ceiling, relieved it was over as another pain came over her and she gasped. Quickly handing the baby off to a nurse to clean, the doctor turned back to her patient. “Another push and we can get the placenta out and finish up with this.”

  Marsha was sick of this already and complied, but only to get them to stop telling her to push. She was tired. She wanted to be clean and warm and forget this part of having children. If she never had another child, she’d be happy about it. She was done, so done, and she could remember having Amir and Bahir taken away from her. Strangely, she suddenly wanted to feel this child in her arms. After pushing out the placenta, she watched as the nurses and Heather fussed over the infant.

  “May I hold him now?” she called, weakly.

  Surprised, Heather turned, a now clean and swaddled baby in her arms. She walked over with a big smile, her eyes suspiciously moist as unshed tears filled them. “He’s beautiful,” she said to her wife as she helped her hold him.

  “What should we call him?” Marsha asked instead of disagreeing with her wife. Newborns were not beautiful. They were squashed, red, and bloated from birth. They would look better within a day. They didn’t get interesting, at least to Marsha, until they started looking around and seeing things. She’d missed out on Hayley walking and learning to talk. She’d missed some of it with Bahir and Amir. She wouldn’t miss any of it with this child if she could prevent it.

  “We once talked about naming a boy after my father,” Heather suggested hesitantly.

  Marsha looked at the dark features of her baby. He looked nothing like her wife and wouldn’t with her Italian heritage and Zabi’s Middle-Eastern or Asian contribution. She smiled. It didn’t matter. He was theirs. “Hello, Liam,” she said as she looked down at her son.

  “Liam Lawrence?” Heather asked, including Marsha’s father. She had adored her father, and her stepdad, while a good man, wasn’t the same.

  “Isn’t that too many Ls?” she asked, thinking of how that would sound.

  “I don’t know. I think it sounds impressive.”

  Marsha wouldn’t argue with her wife, not at a time like this. So, Liam Lawrence Gagliano it was to be.

  * * * * *

  “God, I’m tired,” Marsha sighed when she was back in the room they assigned her.

  “I imagine so. That came quick,” Heather smiled at her wife. They’d cleaned her up, assuring her it had been a good birth and that she would be able to have more children if she wanted. Heather distinctly heard, “Hell, no,” from her wife.

  “I’m just glad that’s over,” she sighed again. “Can you help me get in the shower?”

  “I don’t think…” she began and then quickly went around the bed as Marsha swung her feet over the edge. “You shouldn’t….”

  “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stand how sticky I feel. They never get all the sweat off and I feel gross…all over.”

  “Should I get a nurse?” she worried. What if Marsha collapsed, or bled out, or gushed, or something….

  “You’ve seen me naked,” she pointed out.

  Heather gulped. Of course she had. She’d seen Marsha in the shower and knew her bath-loving wife was only biding her time until she could use the tub again. She’d looked beautiful with her full body carrying their son. She knew that nothing would deter Marsha from taking the shower she now desired, so all she could do was help or get out of the way. If something happened, there was that red button thing….

  Marsha felt wonderful standing under the hot spray, allowing it to get hotter than she had at home because she had been afraid of harming the baby. It still wasn’t hot enough. The hospital must have some gauge on it and she looked up at the shower, annoyed because it wasn’t hot enough. She hadn’t showered in five years, using the sponge bath method when they weren’t near a stream, or simply going without. The tribe didn’t mind body odors. Her Westernized nose told a different story. She relished modern conveniences as she held onto the safety bar and let the water pour down her dirty body. She quickly washed her hair and sweaty body of the film. She watched, concerned, as clots of blood fell out of her body and swished down the drain. When she had pushed the limits and felt a little faint, she quickly turned off the water and used the towel Heather handed her. She dried her body, sitting on the toilet as she put on her underwear and the large pad to catch the blood. Heather found another set of gowns and helped her into one facing towards her back and another facing the front so she would be fully covered.

  “Feel better?” Heather asked brightly once Marsha was back in her bed and brushing out her wet hair. She knew she felt better knowing that nothing had happened in that ill-advised shower. Patients were supposed to wait.

  “Much,” she said with a huge yawn. “Care to cuddle?” she offered as she scooted over on the hospital bed.

  Not needing to be asked twice, and relishing the closeness, Heather hopped up and just held Marsha until she fell asleep. Then she gently got off the bed and pulled up the covers, watching as the beautiful woman that was her wife slept on. She marveled at the strength of this woman who had just given birth to their fourth child. She knew that none of these children were biologically hers, but she also knew that it didn’t take biology to make them hers.

  * * * * *

  Later, while Marsha slept, Heather went to the nursery. She was looking at the various babies through the windows, thinking that this was like a zoo exhibit when Captain McKellan came up behind her.

  “Which one is yours?” he asked.

  Startled, she smiled. Liam was hers, wasn’t he? Marsha had married her to share her life and her children. She pointed out the blue bundle of joy. “How did you know?” she asked, wondering.

  “You weren’t aware that Marsha was under surveillance?”

  She looked at him in surprise, losing her smile. “What? Where? When?” She suddenly felt like MaryBeth, asking questions so quickly he didn’t have time to answer.

  “She had to be, coming from Afghanistan. It’s a passive surveillance to make sure she isn’t in contact with anyone she shouldn’t be.”

  “Who in the world would she be in contact with?”

  He shrugged, knowing that Marsha wasn’t the enemy. “They have to make sure.”

  “Are our phones tapped too?” she wondered aloud angrily.

  “Of course not,” he answered i
mmediately, but his tone lacked conviction. He had no idea how far up this went. He only knew that some pretty high brass was involved and they weren’t talking, just making sure she was going to be questioned. That reminded him of the other reason he was here. “I have some bad news. Is she awake?”

  “She wasn’t when I left, but she might be now. What bad news?” She started to walk back towards Marsha’s room, the captain falling into step beside her.

  “I have to tell her first,” he told her apologetically.

  Marsha was awake and was eating from the look of things. “Do they think people want to eat this?” She showed them congealed gravy, which matched the pudding she had opened. It was disgusting! She shouldn’t complain though. She would have been grateful for some of this a few months ago, even with much less taste.

  “I think it’s supposed to build up your strength,” Heather told her helpfully.

  “Not this,” she put down her spoon. “Where ya been?”

  “Checking on Liam,” she smiled and then sat down to hear what the captain had to say.

  “Captain McKellan, nice of you to visit,” Marsha said with a weary smile.

  “You’re looking good, considering,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, feeling awkward about what she must have gone through.

  “Yeah, well, we women have reservoirs of strength you men haven’t even fathomed,” she teased.

  She looked very tired and he wanted to get this over quickly. “I’m sure you do. My wife would agree. I have some unfortunate news. Now that you have given birth, the army is giving you two days to recover before they require you to appear for questioning.”

  Marsha blinked. Two days? That wasn’t very generous. Whatever they were looking for they were obviously not being very patient.

  “That’s not enough time for her to recover…” Heather began, outraged.

  He held up his hand to silence her. “I’m sorry. Don’t bite the head off the messenger. I know she should be given weeks, but they aren’t willing to wait. The delays with the SERE psychologists already have a few of them chomping at the bit.”

  “Two days and two nights?” Marsha asked, sarcastically.

  “Huh?” he asked, not understanding her.

  “Well, I had Liam in the middle of the night so I have two days and two nights to rest up?”

  “Um, yes,” he answered, not really understanding.

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head. The damned army was not for the faint of heart. “I guess I’ll be there then.”

  “That’s the attitude,” he encouraged her, although he could hear the fatigue in her voice. He kept his visit short. “You let me know if you need anything.”

  “I’m going to need another uniform,” she informed him, pointing to her now deflated stomach.

  “Oh, yes, of course. Right away,” he promised, awkwardly. “I’ll let you get some sleep,” he told her as he hastily made an exit. Neither of the women pointed out that she had just woken up.

  “That’s terrible…” Heather began angrily.

  “That’s the army. What the hell are they so hot to get their hands on?” she wondered aloud. She would find out only so much in the coming days.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Captain Gagliano should have been processed correctly through Operation Yellow Ribbon,” the SERE psychologist began. “The Department of Defense plans and actions related to processing returned U.S. personnel are very clear and her rights and needs were clearly violated.” She could see the panel shift uncomfortably as she tapped on the manual before her. She wasn’t intimidated and her report had already gone in to her superiors and on to the DOD. They would know already what she was about to impart to these imbeciles who had been in such a hurry to extract information from the woman.

  “It is critical that people who have been captured, sometimes tortured, and who return to us, have these steps in place so they can decompress. The repatriation process is unstructured. By having SERE psychologists assist in the process it helps the…” she almost said ‘patient’ and wanted to avoid that with these people. “…soldier, returning to their lives here so we can avoid some of the psychological damage the returnee can face. By skipping Phase I and Phase II like you have here, the accuracy of critical intelligence that you may need in Captain Gagliano’s case may be compromised. The debriefings that I have become aware of, while some of them were well-intentioned,” she looked at Captain McKellan apologetically, “were still outside the mandated phases that were put in place to protect returnees such as Captain Gagliano.”

  She looked around angrily. She and her team had interviewed, discussed, and had plenty of time with Marsha Gagliano and her wife Heather. They had even given them access to their children, who were traumatized by the absence and return. The first child, Hayley, was still unsure who exactly Marsha was in her life. Things like ‘birth mother’ meant nothing to a young child. The other two children, while younger, were still learning about modern conveniences and were easily frightened by simple toys that a child in this part of the world would be used to. Fortunately, they were bouncing back much faster and easier than the adults. There were going to be a lot more sessions than the weeks they had already been allowed.

  “Had you followed protocol, some of these delays that you are complaining about could have been avoided,” she pointed out.

  “A therapist was in on the initial interviews,” Captain McKellan pointed out in defense of his own role in this. He thought he had covered his bases by videotaping the interviews.

  “Yes, I’ve read Captain Lamar’s reports,” she smiled sweetly, showing even, white teeth. “She should have been allowed to continue so that perhaps Phase I and II wouldn’t have been disregarded.” She watched as the Captain shifted angrily, his well-intentioned defense of Captain Gagliano dismissed. She wondered if he realized he gave away body language like that. She knew he probably wouldn’t be thrilled to find that out.

  “I’m sure Captain McKellan thought he would save time,” the civilian-clad member of the panel put in, defending the man.

  The psychologist turned on him. “And why are you, Colonel Kodel, not in uniform?”

  Shocked that she knew who he was, his mouth gaped open like a fish gasping for air. “That is none of your concern, Captain,” he began angrily, trying to intimidate her with his seniority and rank.

  “You aren’t in uniform, Sir,” she clipped back at him. “As such, you hold no authority here.”

  Captain McKellan kept the triumph off his face. He had had suspicions who the man was, and now having this confirmed solidified his case on behalf of Captain Gagliano.

  Not willing to alienate the colonel any further than she had to, she continued, “Returnees that do not go through Phase I and Phase II can significantly increase the likelihood that they will focus on or amplify the feelings of helplessness and failure that they feel from their captivity. These psychological problems can become long term for the returnees.” She was using this case as a learning exercise for this panel. She was furious that Captain Gagliano hadn’t had a SERE psychologist on her side from the first. While Captain Lamar had started the procedure, she hadn’t been allowed to continue on and her report had reflected her objection at the time. She was caught in the cogs of the army and had been reassigned elsewhere.

  Marsha was listening to this and wondering why they treated her as though she wasn’t even here. She was tired and just wished to go home. The hormones in her body and the resulting fatigue made her want to go home to her baby. She knew she would have to take a break soon to expel the milk from her breasts. She could feel them filling like clockwork. She knew the army didn’t want to acknowledge that she was a breastfeeding mother, but really, neither of them had a choice. She’d just had a baby and her body was still readjusting. She was just grateful that she could wear more normal clothes now. She wasn’t going to worry about her breasts exploding through her shirt although the thought of milk stains on her white, button-down shirt di
d not appeal.

  “Captain Gagliano,” she began again.

  “May I interrupt for a moment, Captain?” Captain McKellan interjected apologetically. “After much hard work on my office’s behalf,” his glance took in his assistant Corporal Harris, “we have determined and have confirmation here,” he pulled out paperwork and slid it across the table to the psychologist, “that Marsha Gagliano missed her promotions due to her captivity. I have the proper paperwork here. At this time, she is considered a major and should be addressed as such.” He watched as the news of what he was saying spread around the table. Colonel Kodel did not look pleased at all. “Furthermore, we have appealed this decision. After her hard work, we feel that Major Gagliano,” he relished being able to say that officially now, “should be promoted to the level of a lieutenant colonel.”

  “That’s outrageous!” he heard someone mutter, and before he could look to see who had said it, the psychologist put in her own two cents.

  “That’s admirable, Captain. I’m sure Captain, now Major Gagliano appreciates your hard work on her behalf. We are here to hear my assessment of Major Gagliano,” she too seemed to relish giving Marsha her new title.

  Marsha sat there stunned. The promotion, which should be retroactive, would mean more money for her and her family. She knew that Heather had been losing sleep over money that they didn’t have and the things they couldn’t afford with the new baby.

  “With that in mind, I wish to continue….” She looked around the table at the panel to see if there were any more interruptions or objections and when no one spoke up, she continued. “Major Gagliano was not classified at any time as an evader or a person that was isolated in hostile or unfriendly territory who eludes capture,” she clarified as there were several civilians listening to her report. “Since she wasn’t held by hostile forces, she did attempt to escape and was beaten for it, her classification is still in doubt.” She quickly added so that they couldn’t jump down Marsha’s throat for not escaping earlier, “No demands were made for her release. They didn’t even let anyone know that they had her. A negotiated release could not even be considered. Since the army did not know of her whereabouts, a conventional CSAR recovery could not be enacted. Her survival from the helicopter crash could not be verified and a rescue, while sent out to the recovery site, didn’t even find evidence of the helicopter, which according to Major Gagliano, had been hidden.”