“Melanie gave her notice today.”
For a moment Frankie could not remember who this was.
“She said she was too embarrassed to stay. Apparently everyone in the office thinks there’s been something going on between us. Thanks to you.”
“What’s she going to do?”
“Is that all you’ve got to say?”
“I’ll call her. I’ll apologize.”
“Don’t bother. She doesn’t even blame you. She’s too nice for that. She says she knows you’re not well.”
At Rick’s feet, Flame rolled over, wanting her tummy rubbed. He obliged her though he probably didn’t even know he was doing it. He needed to keep moving, doing something, anything to stay out of bed, away from her. In the same way she wanted to keep talking because so long as they were talking about everyday matters, she didn’t have to say what was most important.
“I heard from Harry today. Candace has hepatitis.”
“The thief.”
“He asked me if I knew where to find her. I went down to the Veterans’ Villa. There’s a man there she knows, but he wouldn’t tell me where she is. Not right off anyway. He’s protecting her from her ex.” She talked on, filling the emptiness with people and lives Rick didn’t care about. She knew better but she couldn’t stand the silence.
Rick sat in one of the easy chairs that faced the television. His back to her.
“Are you going to watch TV?”
He turned it on and then immediately off again. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he said and left the room.
He did not come back to bed and was out of the house before she awoke the next morning.
Frankie relented to Glory’s logic and let her stay home alone while she went to La Jolla for her appointment with Dr. White. Before leaving she reviewed the rules. Glory was not to leave the house or use the stove or microwave oven. She could go in the back garden but not on the decks.
“Keep Flame with you.”
“Why? She’d just lick a robber to death.”
“Don’t let anybody in. Don’t even answer the phone.”
“Even if you call me? Even if I see your name on caller ID?”
“Okay. Me or Dad.”
“What about Gramma or Uncle Harry?”
“You know what I mean, Glory. Use your good sense.”
“Why is everyone so mad at me?”
She found a parking space on Herschel, next to the most beautiful automobile she had ever seen. Before going up to the office, she stood on the sidewalk and admired the sea-green Bentley convertible as if it were a piece of sculpture in a gallery. The car gave her something to talk about during the warm-up minutes of her appointment when there was always a slight awkwardness; but her therapist wasn’t a car enthusiast and, really, neither was Frankie so the small talk got smaller and eventually vanished.
She stared out the window at the palm trees. When the wind blew the fronds brushed against each other and made a sound like rain.
She burst into tears. “He’s given up.”
“Frankie, I’m so sorry. Things must have gotten much worse.”
Light danced off the palm fronds.
“Talk to me, Frankie.”
“He’s cold now. He’s never been cold before.”
“What does that mean?”
“He won’t look at me. Or talk to me. He slept downstairs last night.”
Once sex might have been a bridge over a stressful time, but they had not been intimate in six weeks. Frankie’s choice. She couldn’t relax in his arms and lying beside him, not touching, his desire was like an unpredictable animal. At first he had been patiently understanding. Twice she’d forced herself to have sex out of guilt, both times were disasters worse than abstinence. The rejections hurt him, she knew, but she couldn’t keep saying she was sorry all the time.
Dr. White handed her the tissue box and she remembered Trelawny Scott doing the same thing a few days earlier. She had cried more since she came home than in the previous two years, five years, maybe her whole life. Tears came when words were inadequate. Tears came gushing out of sorrow and resignation, out of hopelessness.
“He’s given up on me and I don’t blame him. How can I? Talking to Glory’s headmistress, I realized it’s all my fault. Everything. Glory’s problems, Rick’s and mine. I’ve asked him to be patient and give me more time, but I really haven’t done anything to make things better.”
“You come here twice a week. I think that’s something.”
“Why? I sit in your office and cry.”
“Therapy’s a new language, Frankie. It takes time to learn how to talk about all the things you don’t want to talk about. In the meantime, you cry.”
This was the nut of it: All the things you don’t want to talk about. This was what closed her throat and killed the songs, sent the black crows flying through her thoughts and into the past, circling over Three Fountain Square, the forbidden territory.
“I met that guy you recommended. Bo Dekker?”
“You went to his group?” There was no missing the hope in White’s question.
“Because of Domino. I thought we were friends, but he didn’t even know my name.”
“That hurt you.”
She began crying again. “Damn, I hate this.”
“Catharsis is real, not just something the Greeks invented to make their plays more interesting. Even a general’s daughter needs it.”
Frankie sneaked a look at the clock. Thirty minutes remaining. She blotted her tears and began shredding the tissue.
“What are you thinking?”
“Nothing. Everything.”
Dr. White laughed. “Sometimes they can feel like the same thing.”
“I left Glory home alone.”
“And you’re nervous about this.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“Are you?”
“She’s a good girl and she knows not to talk to strangers. Besides my mother’s across the street.”
“But something still bothers you.”
Tears again. “I don’t want her to grow up. She’s on her way out the door before I even had a chance to be her mother.”
“Did you want to be a mother?”
“You know the answer to that.” Rick had been the one eager to begin a family. “But now that she’s going—”
“Frankie, you left her home alone for two hours. There’s a long way between that and ‘going.’ ”
“You don’t have children. You don’t know how the time flies. He’ll be gone and so will she and I’ll be alone.”
“You could have another baby. Have you thought of that?”
“I just told you. He’s finished.” And so cold, he chilled the house.
“Has he told you he wants out of the marriage?”
“I know, I can tell. He’s already gone.”
She imagined their divorce. At first they would make every effort to keep it amicable, but it couldn’t stay that way because Rick would want Glory. He would argue for her in court. A judge would determine that Frankie was an unfit mother.
“I left her and went to Iraq.”
“Men do it all the time.”
“A judge wouldn’t care.” A judge would feel as the General did. She was unnatural.
“It strikes me that you’re spending a lot of time looking ahead to what might happen in the future. Maybe there’s somewhere else you can put your attention. Something you can deal with right now.”
She told her about Domino. “I’m just waiting to hear from Dekker.”
“I agree that it would be good if you could help your friend. I think it might boost your confidence. But I was thinking of something closer to home, Frankie.”
“Like what?”
“Well.” Dr. White settled herself. “You could ask Rick straight out if he wants a divorce.”
Chapter 30
Bunny’s dark blue BMW was in the driveway, blocking the garage door. Frankie parked on the hil
l and rushed up the stairs onto the deck. Through the wall of windows she saw into the living room. Glory sat cross-legged on the floor, Bunny on the couch. Between them on the glass-topped coffee table was a Monopoly board.
As Frankie let herself in Glory bragged, “I’ve got three hotels on Park Place.”
“What are you doing here?”
“And good morning to you, Captain Tennyson.”
She knew her godfather’s expressions and could distinguish a true smile from the one he used as camouflage.
“Glory, you weren’t supposed to open the door. We talked about this—”
“But it was Uncle Bunny, Mom.”
“Go and clean your room. I’ll be up in a little while.”
“But, Mom, we’re—”
“You heard what I said.”
Glory threw down her token. “What’re you mad at me for? What did I do?” She flounced from the room, and a second later Frankie heard her bedroom door slam.
Bunny said, “I’m getting ready to go back to DC and I thought I’d stop over and say good-bye. I’ve only been here a few minutes.” He shrugged as if to underscore how natural a thing this parting visit was. “Don’t be too hard on the kid.”
She could not stand to look at him and she hated the way he sweetened his voice. How was it that this lying and cajoling man was part of her family?
“I’ve been worried about you.”
“Senator Belasco came to the MCRD.”
“Susan can be a very clever and persuasive woman.”
“You call her Susan?”
“Washington’s a small town.”
Especially for a lobbyist, Frankie thought.
“She’s going to subpoena me.”
He laughed shortly. “I wouldn’t be too worried. Just be patient. She’ll find other witnesses, either that or the whole mess’ll burn out.”
“Does my father know you’re a lobbyist? Does Mom?”
He sat back down on the couch and patted the cushion beside him. “You’re upset and I guess I shouldn’t blame you. But you’ve got to get a grip before you do something you regret.”
“Just tell me.” She would not sit. “Do they know?”
“Your mom and dad believe what they want to believe.” He said. “And what does it matter, Frankie, when we’re all after the same thing? G4S, the corps, and everyone else in uniform just want to make the world a safer place. Let’s not quibble about the details.”
There had never been a time in Frankie’s life when she did not know this man. He held her in his arms when she was baptized, he took her out to Fiesta Island and taught her how to drive because it made her parents too nervous. Now she couldn’t look at him.
“Ride it out. A few more weeks and you’ll be in blue skies.”
“What if I don’t want to ride it out? What if riding it out is making me crazy? Have you ever been to the Green Zone, Bunny?” She laughed at her own silly question. “Sure you have. I bet you loved it. Right? Fatima and I were there once. You remember her? My interpreter? The one G4S paid off and sent to Damascus?” She did not know this for sure, but it made more sense than any other explanation. “Maybe you made the arrangements. I bet you’re more a fixer than a lobbyist. You’d be good at that. Not that I blame her for taking the offer, by the way. She needed to get out of Iraq.”
“Calm down, Frankie.”
“Do you know what I do down at the shop? I process invoices transferring millions of dollars from Defense through the corps to companies I’ve never heard of who supposedly provide the military with support services. And for what? Another fleet of Chevy Suburbans, regulation white? More razor wire and car washes? So guys who dress like Mormons on a mission can eat at Burger King in the exact spot where Saddam’s sons fucked their bimbos?”
Bunny winced.
“So they can shoot innocent children?”
“In a war, even children can be dangerous. I’ve seen—”
“That boy wasn’t much older than Glory.”
Her words might carry upstairs but she didn’t care. She remembered the feeling of freedom when she tipped over her shopping cart and walked away. This noisy, righteous, from-the-gut anger wasn’t so different, not so different at all.
“We worked for ten months to make a school and when I left Redline it still had no running water or reliable power. But they had Girl Scout cookies. Cases of them, compliments of the Department of Defense.” She pressed her palm against her charging heart.
“Get a grip, Frankie. You’re right, it is a crazy war. We don’t have to argue about that.” She had once overheard the General telling someone that what made Bunny Bunson a superior sergeant major was his ability to stay calm while Shit City blew up. “We made a lot of mistakes in the beginning but now we’ve got the surge going and we’re turning it around. At this point in time talking to the committee would be a mistake.”
She folded her arms across her chest to keep her heart from beating its way out of her body.
“Your father loves you, goddaughter. You’re the world to him.”
She did not know if this was true. At the best of times she had been barely good enough to satisfy his demands. After more than thirty years of effort she had never won the approval she so wanted.
Bunny’s voice was a soothing monotone like the purr of a cat. “He’s seventy-five years old and just because you spent ten months in Iraq doesn’t mean you know anything about what he went through in ’Nam. He might look pretty good to you, but believe me, those years age you double. Inside that tough old hide he’s held together with paperclips. You talk about what you saw and you might as well pull the plug on him. He’s proud and the shame of his daughter—”
“No Marine would ever do what I saw that contractor do.”
“It’s a war, Frankie. Bad things happen.”
“I saw his face. I’d recognize him in a crowd of people.”
“That’s what you say now, but think about the pressure if you testify. You’ll be sitting at the witness table with all those microphones poking at you and the photographers in the hole snapping pictures and you’ll try to talk and you know how your throat’s gonna get. Like it is now. Like a stretch of dirt road. Senator Delaware’ll pick you apart with his questions. You’ll make a fool of yourself.”
She heard footsteps on the stairs up from the street. Rick came through the door.
She asked, “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you at work?”
“We need to talk. I haven’t been able to think straight all morning.” He stopped, looked at her and then at Bunny, seeing him for the first time. “What’s going on? Frankie, you look like someone kicked you.”
“Bunny’s just leaving.”
He heaved himself up off the couch. “I guess I am.” He lifted his wrist to look at his watch and the diamonds sparkled in the bright room.
She told Rick, “He works for G4S. He lobbies for them. Or something. That’s how he can afford a watch like that.”
“Good to see you, buddy. Take care of my goddaughter—”
“Tell him why you’re here.”
“I’d like to stay longer, but I’m flying out—”
“I saw a boy killed by a G4S contractor and Senator Belasco wants me to testify.”
Rick stared at her.
“You think I’m lying, Rick? You think I’m an unreliable witness?”
“No, no, of course not. You never said—”
“But now I am. Now I’m saying. I saw an innocent boy shot dead by a contractor and Bunny wants me to pretend it never happened. He thinks I’d make a fool of myself in front of the committee. Shame the corps.” She added, swallowing hard, “He thinks it would kill the General.”
Glory spoke from the foot of the stairs. “What’s gonna kill Grandpa?”
Chapter 31
At FOB Redline the women’s showers were a city block away from the can where she slept. Under her feet, the stall was always gritty with sand and in the corners it piled up in tiny dunes. The ho
t water ran out fast. Stepping out into the desert air she had never felt really clean.
Frankie left Glory and Rick and went upstairs. In the bathroom she stepped into the shower fully clothed and raised her face to the chilly needles, letting the water tattoo her eyelids and cheeks as she undressed, kicking her sodden jeans and shirt and underwear into the corner of the shower. Achingly cold she pulled her braid apart and ran her shaking fingers up through her hair. Gradually she increased the hot water until the shower steamed. Like a farm worker or a coal miner at the end of a buried day, she lathered herself and rinsed and lathered again. She washed her hair, stood bent at the waist for five minutes letting the water pour through it. She twisted the knob and gradually the water chilled again.
She was shaking when Rick opened the door and reached in to turn off the tap.
“Frankie, don’t do this to yourself.”
He stood with a towel stretched wide, and she walked into his arms and he wrapped it around her. She stood still, letting him towel her dry and help her into her terry-cloth robe and tie the sash. With her hair turbaned in a towel, she followed him into the bedroom. She felt as numb as if she’d been anesthetized.
“Where’s Glory?”
“Downstairs. Watching TV.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I said it was just a figure of speech. Like saying ‘I’m dying for an ice cream cone’ doesn’t really mean I’m dying. She got it.” Rick pulled her down beside him on the bed and drew the bedclothes over them. They lay on their sides, face to face.
“What am I going to do with you?”
“Throw me out with the trash.”
“I need to get a bigger barrel.”
“I’m sorry, Rick.” She didn’t know what she was apologizing for but it was all she could think to say.
“Why didn’t you tell me what you saw? I would have listened. You don’t need to hold that nightmare inside you. It’s like poison.”
“There’s more… I did something terrible.”
“Tell me.”
Instead she talked about the journal she had begun to keep. At least she’d written the date and a few words. They were the first steps through the maze. “I can’t say the words.”
When She Came Home Page 18