“How’re you finding your duties as company commander?” She paused. “It’s been a mixed bag, sir. I’m quite honored to lead Second Company, but I often feel a bit overwhelmed — like I’m lost at sea, sir.”
“I appreciate your honesty, Ms. Nevington.” He winked. “I occasionally feel the same way as commandant. Now, what can I do for you today?”
“I’ve been deliberating all night whether to speak to you about this, sir, and I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds.” She hesitated.
“I need to report misconduct by my company officer, sir.”
“Lt. Keaton?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s a serious allegation, Ms. Nevington.”
“Yes, sir. That’s one of two reasons I hesitated in reporting to you.”
“And the other reason?”
“To be honest, making this report will get me in trouble, sir. I disobeyed an order, sir.”
The commandant looked intrigued. “Go on.”
“Yes, sir. Lt. Keaton called a plebe and me to her office last night, related to the log for the small firearm storage unit. The plebe hadn’t turned in his rifle on time on Saturday, and the lieutenant was furious.”
“Who is the plebe?”
“Midshipman Leo Scott, sir.”
“Hmmm…” He appeared thoughtful for a moment. “What happened, Ms. Nevington?”
Viva bit her lower lip. “Lt. Keaton struck Mr. Scott, sir.”
“She struck him?” His eyebrows traveled toward his hairline.
“Yes, sir. She…punched him in the face.” Viva let that information sink in, then added, “The plebe was behaving disrespectfully and deserved to be punished, but I didn’t think that was right, sir.”
“And how do these events implicate you in misconduct, Ms. Nevington?”
“I’d discovered Mr. Scott was late returning to quarters on Saturday night, sir. I issued five company tours, but I should’ve known his rifle was late as well. Lt. Keaton had ordered me to report any disciplinary problems with Mr. Scott directly to her, and I disobeyed that order.”
“Why is that?”
“No excuse, sir.”
“I want to hear your reasoning, Ms. Nevington,” he demanded.
“Mr. Scott assaulted one of my squad leaders in July, sir. I took him to see the lieutenant, and her punishment seemed harsh — a straight twenty-four-hour march. Lt. Keaton also ordered him to attend counseling. On Saturday, Mr. Scott begged me not to report his tardiness to our company officer, and foolishly I gave in, sir.”
“I’m trying to figure out how the chain of command broke down like this when both you and Lt. Keaton seem like competent leaders.” He stroked his chin. “This Mr. Scott sounds like an interesting character. Ms. Nevington, is it your duty to decide whether a superior’s punishment is appropriate?”
“No, sir.”
“What was the consequence of disobeying your company officer?”
“We never got to that, sir. I guess Lt. Keaton and I were both sort of stunned after she hit the plebe, and we just stood there until I asked her if we could be dismissed.”
“How’d the plebe respond?”
“He seemed fine, sir…” She decided to forge ahead. “But just because he looked fine doesn’t mean he was fine.”
“What does that mean?”
“Sir, Mr. Scott has a history of being abused. His father, Commander Scott, beat him so badly last spring he had to have surgery. This makes the lieutenant’s behavior even more egregious, in my opinion, sir.”
“Ah. That’s why I recognized his name.” He rubbed his hand over his chin. “You did the right thing by coming forward, and I understand why you leap-frogged your company officer to make this report. I’ll address this issue with Lt. Keaton. Is Mr. Scott still attending counseling?”
“Yes, sir.”
“There’ll be consequences for disobeying your company officer.
She’ll be in contact with you following my conversation with her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But Midshipman Nevington, if Lt. Keaton attempts any sort of unfair retribution for your report today, I want to hear about it immediately. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded. “Good luck against Army this weekend. You’re dismissed.”
Viva saluted and turned to rush down the passageway to her Monday morning class. Would I love to be a fly on the wall for the commandant’s meeting with the lieutenant… Viva hoped she wouldn’t regret making that report.
Ina had been shooting curious glances Leo’s way since col ecting him from the waiting room, but she hadn’t asked him about his bruise. Yet. Now that they were in her office, she ordered him to sit as she crutched over to her desk and tried to yank open her drawer.
“Locked,” she grumbled, reaching across her desk. Then she seemed to realize he was watching her. “I want you to look away for a minute, Leo.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He turned away and heard her fumble for something, followed by the sound of a lock turning and the drawer sliding open.
“Eyes forward,” she ordered.
Leo watched from the corner of his eye as she stuck a chart between her teeth and crutched over to her chair, where she collapsed.
She leaned her crutches against the armrest and opened the chart.
“So, last week we talked again about how your brother Jason got engaged to Cameron, whose father was murdered. Your girlfriend Audrey’s father is in prison for the murder, but there’s some doubt about his guilt.”
She looked up from her notes, and he averted his eyes. Would she go into the gory details?
“And then you told me some things about your past.” Apparently not. He exhaled.
“How’s your week been?” Her voice was gentle.
“Fine, ma’am.”
“What happened to your face, Leo?”
“I collided with a wayward rifle butt during infantry drilling,” Leo dutifully reported.
“You’re a bad liar.”
How did she know?
“Do I have to order you to tell me the truth? Is that the only way you’ll answer my questions?”
“What do I do if I have conflicting orders, ma’am?” Leo asked, his voice uneasy.
“You were ordered to lie about how you got that bruise?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“By whom?”
“By my company commander, ma’am.”
Ina inhaled sharply. “Did you assault a superior again, Leo?”
“No, ma’am.” More like a superior assaulted me.
“Did you behave aggressively in any way?” He ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am. I yelled. At a superior.”
“You’re getting good at that.”
He cringed. Why not keep the embarrassment going? He reached into his backpack and removed a bottle of pills. The little white tablets rattled around as he handed it to her, looking at the floor.
“As promised, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
He reached down into his bag again to extract a folded piece of paper. He handed that over as well.
“What’s this?”
“Benito thought it’d be a good idea. I guess he has an uncle who battled drug addiction or something.” Ina opened the paper and read aloud. “There should be twenty-one pills, ma’am. Signed, Benito Dulce.” She seemed to stifle a smile.
“Should I count them, Leo?”
“If you want.” He shrugged. “I didn’t take any.” One eyebrow arched. “Considering you lied to me five seconds ago, I think I will count the pil s. Maybe someday I can take you at your word.”
As Ina dumped the bottle’s contents into her curved palm, Leo lowered his head and rubbed his hands over his shorn hair. He’d disappointed her. Again.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He was supposed to join the Navy and turn his life around, becoming the best plebe the Academy had ever seen. Instead, he felt haunted by his past at every turn. Ina made periodic report
s to Lt. Keaton about his progress in counseling, so he dared not mention his suspicions to her.
Apparently satisfied he hadn’t taken any pills, Ina tossed the bottle toward a garbage can across the room. It fell short and rattled across the floor.
Eyeing her crutches, Leo popped up. “I’ll get it, ma’am.” He leaned down and dropped the bottle in the can.
“So how’d Benito react to your request for his pills?” Ina asked as he returned to his seat.
“Kind of strange, I guess. He said he was glad I wasn’t so freaking perfect.”
Ina chuckled. “What makes that strange?”
“Well, I’m not perfect — but I’m supposed to be. Benito made it sound like a good thing I screwed up.”
“Who said you should be perfect?”
Leo hesitated, taken aback. “Everybody. Well, my father most of all, I guess.”
“And striving to be perfect — how’s that working for you?”
“Working for me, ma’am?”
“What are the upsides and downsides of trying to be perfect?”
“I guess it makes me work harder in school and swimming. Uh, the downsides? There aren’t any I can see.”
“Really? You seem to become quite angry when you fall short of perfection.”
“Yeah, I pretty much hate myself when I screw up.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way, Leo.” He chewed on his fingernail. “Doesn’t everybody hate themselves when they mess up?”
“Lord, no.” She shook her head. “I’d be hating myself twenty-four seven if I got mad at my mistakes. I mess up all the time. Case in point: I just made a horrible throw to the garbage can. Now, if I was sitting here beating myself up for what crappy aim I have, I wouldn’t be able to listen to you and enjoy our meeting. We’re human, therefore we make mistakes. When we accept that, we tend to enjoy life a lot more.”
Leo considered her words, but said nothing.
“Another downside of perfectionism is that it’s hard to get close to people,” she continued. “Benito told you he felt closer to you when he knew you weren’t perfect. Nobody wants to be friends with a cold, robotic machine who never shows any vulnerability or weakness. You shared some of your screw-ups in here, and now I think I like you even more. It makes me want to fight for you.”
“If it causes so many problems, why am I a perfectionist, then?
Why can’t I accept my mistakes?”
“Of course you’re a perfectionist. What happened if you weren’t perfect as a kid?”
“I was punished.” His voice sounded pathetically small.
“You were abused,” Ina corrected. “It was really smart for you to try to be perfect so your father wouldn’t hit you. It was a survival strategy as a child, but it doesn’t seem to be working so well as an adult. Many abuse survivors are perfectionists, thinking if only they can make their tormentors happy, they won’t get hurt. But it doesn’t work that way, because the abuse has nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with the abuser. You didn’t have any control over the violence — only your father did.”
“I did have control,” Leo insisted, remembering the altercation in Audrey’s kitchen. “When I fought back once, I made my dad stop.”
“Ah.” Ina nodded. “No wonder you hit your squad leader then…
You think being violent is the only way to feel in control. You think violence is the solution to your problems.” Whoa. That did sound like him. “And it’s not…?” he wondered aloud.
“What do you think, Leo?” Her eyes met his.
His heart thumped. What did he think? He had no idea! He felt unmoored, unanchored, drowned in doubt.
“I think…I think, um, I think I don’t know what I think,” he stammered.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I see that bruise on your face, and I know what I think. I want the violence to stop, Leo. No more bruises.”
64. Florida Heat
Darnell Keaton waited for Captain Tracker to speak. “Have a seat, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.” She positioned herself on one of the leather chairs facing his desk, crossed her legs, and folded her hands in her lap.
“Other than a few social functions, we haven’t interacted much,” he said. “Tell me about yourself, Lieutenant.” Okay, small talk. “What would you like to know, sir?”
“Well, for starters, how ’bout you tell me your career path up to this point.”
“Yes, sir. I graduated from the Academy with a major in Aerospace Engineering, then I served on the USS Normandy for two years before heading to Naval Air Station Pensacola.”
“What were your duties in Pensacola?” asked the commandant.
“I served in Air Department V-Four, assisting with safety and maintenance protocol of various aircraft, as well as teaching engineering to recruits, sir.”
“Why’d you leave?”
Her heart raced. “It, um, it became too hot for me in Florida, sir.” He stared at her for a few moments. “That’s right. You started with us in July of last year. It must’ve been hot.”
“Sir, may I ask why you called me to your office?” She couldn’t stop squirming.
He looked directly into her eyes. “I think you know, Lieutenant.”
She felt a blush heat her face and broke eye contact. She’d been up most of the night mentally reviewing her altercation with the Scott plebe, desperate to figure out how to deal with the situation.
Flooded with memories from Pensacola, she couldn’t think straight.
Her worries for the future made it impossible to focus on the present.
Of course she knew. The moment she’d picked up the phone that morning and heard the commandant’s lieutenant’s voice, she’d known. “This is about what happened last night, when I, um, struck the plebe, sir.”
“Yes,” Captain Tracker confirmed, the pleasantries of their initial exchange long gone. “How on earth did that happen, Lieutenant?”
“Sir, I lost control. There’s really no excuse for my behavior, sir.”
“There is no excuse, Lieutenant. I was hesitant to put someone so young in charge of a company when you first arrived to the Yard, but I have to say, until now you’ve done an admirable job. You have yourself a fine company commander, and your midshipmen’s performance on academic and physical tests is near the top. However, you just opened yourself up to a boatload of trouble. Do you realize the plebe could sue you for assault?”
“Yes, sir.” Her throat was so dry she could barely swallow.
“You ordered Mr. Scott to attend counseling. Is it helping him?”
“Dr. Hansen sent me a report a couple weeks ago. Mr. Scott’s attending regularly, but progress is slow. Dr. Hansen was trying to build rapport with him. She said he’s been a difficult client. But he hasn’t had any further instances of violence to my knowledge, sir.” His voice rose. “Until last night, when he was the target of violence!”
Her frightened eyes never left her superior’s. “Yes, sir.”
“Given Mr. Scott’s past, I’m even more disgusted by your behavior.
Russell Payson, your former CO, contacted me about Leo Scott in June. Russell and I served together, and he asked a favor. He told me Leo’s father, a commander, had been disciplined for putting him in the hospital.”
Darnell’s eyes widened.
“Russell felt awful that the abuse had been going on for years without his knowledge, and he told me he’d promised Leo the Navy would make it up to him. Captain Payson asked me to look after Leo by assigning him to your company. He thought you’d do a good job taking care of him.”
Darnell covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, sir. I had no idea.”
“Perhaps I should’ve shared this information with you sooner, but I never expected you to hit him, Lieutenant!”
“I made a huge mistake, sir.”
“Yes, you did. Between your assault and your ordering him to march for twenty-four hours straight, I’m starting to wonder what you have against Leo S
cott.”
Darnell felt cold fear. She simply could not answer that question.
Fighting for control, she felt herself slipping, overtaken by flashes of pain, flashes of shame. Swirling circles of hard hazel and soft brown swam haphazardly through her mind.
“Lieutenant?” She heard him ask. “Lieutenant?” She shook her head to clear it. “Yes, sir?” He looked at her with thinly veiled disdain. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Lieutenant, but I’m concerned. I order you to attend counseling to regain control of yourself.” Darnell started to protest. “Sir — ”
“Are you able to continue carrying out your duties, or do I need to suspend you?”
“I’ll be okay, sir.” Her voice shook. “This will never happen again.”
“It better not. And I suppose it’s rather obvious that Midshipman Nevington reported the incident to me. If I find out you retaliate against her unfairly, you’l regret it. And, if you don’t make satisfactory progress in counseling, you’ll find yourself right back in this office, and you’ll be suspended. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.” A bead of sweat trickled down her back, and she steeled herself for what lay ahead. She would never allow some counselor to tap into her secrets. There was way too much to lose.
“Ugh, stupid heat wave,” Audrey complained into the phone.
“Wait — let me angle this fan better.”
Leo heard her thump back down on her bed. “How hot is it?” He sat at his desk using a borrowed cell phone. It was one of those precious ten-minute windows of time when plebes were permitted to make calls, and he relished hearing his girlfriend’s voice.
“Eighty-seven today, and it doesn’t seem to be cooling down much tonight. I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal when the AC broke since it’s November, but it’s like an oven in here.”
“Yeah, without those ocean breezes, I bet Tallahassee can get pretty miserable. Here we’ve been in our winter blues for a week. I’ll freak when we have our first snow.”
“But you lived in Annapolis when you were a kid.”
“That feels like forever ago,” Leo mused. “I wasn’t exactly going on ten-mile runs then either. PT should be interesting when it gets really cold.”
“You must be in great shape.”
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