“You quit ROTC?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you do that, Pug?” Paige’s mom’s voice was a mix of hurt and anger.
“Why do you get to ask all the questions?”
“Because I’m your mother.”
Paige took a deep breath. She’d told off her commander, and now she had strength to speak her mind at home. She had nothing to lose because all seemed lost. “You don’t act like it.”
Her mom twisted in her chair, wincing in pain. “Watch your step.”
“You don’t,” Paige hissed. “You just stumble around this house at night like some drugged-out zombie, talking to your boyfriend on the phone, and popping pills like a junkie.”
Paige’s mom pushed herself out of her chair. “I said, watch your step.”
Undeterred and more determined, Paige took a step toward her mother. “What are you going to do? Ground me? The minute your plane touched the ground, you brought me down. Perry and I were just fine living without you, not that you’re here after sundown anyway.”
Paige’s mother took a step closer, but Paige didn’t back down. Nose to nose, eye to eye.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” her mom said. “You don’t know the amount of pain I’m in on a daily basis. I’m crippled, useless, and unwanted.”
“What happened? It wasn’t like this last time you were—”
“I was stronger then; I had to be. You don’t need to be strong sitting behind a desk.”
“But you’re safe and—”
“Maybe everyone would have been better off if I never came home, like your father. Is that it, Paige?”
Paige felt the beating of her heart so loud. It was a time bomb. And time was up.
“Yes.”
“Leave, just leave me alone, Paige.”
“That’s easy.” Then, turning her back, Paige said, “Because you taught me how.”
15
OCTOBER 26 / MONDAY / LUNCH
SAM HOUSTON HIGH SCHOOL
“Paige, you shouldn’t have done that,” Erin said. “I could stand up for myself.”
Paige started to disagree but let it go. Erin still wore the uniform; Paige didn’t. It wasn’t about Erin or Eckert, Paige knew. Like everything in the past month, it was about her mom.
“If you talk with Commander Eckert, I’m sure he’d let you back in,” Josie added.
Paige continued her silence. So many thoughts were running through her brain like a traffic jam after a Spurs game. David also remained silent. He’d told Paige he didn’t agree with disobeying orders, and that he wouldn’t quit as well, but he was proud of her for standing up for herself and Erin. Like most military kids, David respected strength and loyalty over all else.
“Paige, we’re all in this together,” Erin said.
“We can’t do it without you,” Josie said.
“Thanks, but I don’t know, something just snapped,” Paige said, unsure what to say. She’d yet to tell Erin and Josie about how bad her mom’s problems were, wondering if they would understand. Would they feel sorry for her? And if so, would that make Paige feel ashamed? Paige wondered why her friends didn’t ask why they were never invited to her house anymore.
“What did your mom say?” Alonzo asked. Josie rolled her eyes when he asked.
“She’s not happy about it.” Paige crossed her arms across her chest. “And I don’t care.”
“Cold,” Alonzo whispered.
“You were so looking forward—” Josie began.
But Paige cut her off. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it. About her.”
David reached out his hand, but Paige kept her hands wrapped around herself. The only person you can really trust, who can never let you down, is yourself, she thought.
“You want to come over tonight?” David asked.
“I’m grounded again.”
“That sucks.”
“We’ll text,” Paige said and then faked a smile. When her mom was deployed, they kept in touch mainly by Skype or e-mail. Paige understood now that all the electrons flying in outer space only gave everyone the illusion they were still close and that the thousands of miles across the ocean didn’t matter. Grounded, unable to see David during ROTC, Paige felt the closeness between them ready to slip through her fingers, like grains of sand in the Afghan desert.
Paige tried to rejoin the conversation, but Josie and Erin dominated, talking about the upcoming ROTC performance at the home football game and then the Veterans Day parade. As they spoke, Paige felt as if a thin wall had already formed; she was no longer one of them. All those bonds of the past, strained because they were not marching together.
“David, you’ll still be my friend,” Paige whispered.
David laughed, but Paige didn’t even smile. She clutched onto his arm. “Always,” he said, patting her hand.
No longer a cadet, Paige allowed herself the luxury of crying.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Paige thought about all the lost parents, widowed partners, and broken children. People who thought they’d be together always and forever. “Always doesn’t mean always anymore.”
16
OCTOBER 30 / FRIDAY / DINNER
JACOB AND TRACY ALEXANDER’S HOUSE
“Paige, don’t you need to go to the football game?” Uncle Jacob asked.
Paige was torn. She wanted to see David, Josie, Erin, and her friends march before the game, but the thought of watching it from the stands hurt too much. It just made the wall between her and her former cadet comrades that much thicker.
“Paige, your uncle asked you—” Aunt Tracy started.
“I quit ROTC,” Paige said. Like a tire going flat, her aunt and uncle gasped. The three sat outside on the porch like they’d done a hundred times, but Paige knew tonight was different.
“Whatever for?” Aunt Tracy asked.
She hadn’t wanted to tell them. Paige wanted simply to come over for dinner, sit with her aunt and uncle, and talk about nothing much at all but make things normal, like they were before her mom came home. Yet, all the talk at the table had danced around her mom’s return. If anyone knew Paige, it was her aunt and uncle who raised her more than her mother ever did.
“Commander Eckert was all over Erin,” Paige started, but a voice in the back of her head shouted louder than the one coming from her mouth. Tell the truth, it said. Tell the truth.
“I’m sure your mother could arrange for you to—” Uncle Jacob started.
“I don’t want her help,” Paige said, almost spitting out each word. “With anything.”
Her aunt and uncle looked at each other. Paige knew the look: concern, worry. She’d seen it after her mother had deployed, before Perry’s football games, and so many times when she’d failed and they’d consoled her. “Paige, what’s going on?” Uncle Jacob asked.
“I can’t.”
“Paige, we’re here for you; you know that,” Aunt Tracy said.
“Really? Can I move back here?” Paige asked, words she never dreamed of saying.
“What’s wrong?” her aunt asked again.
Paige put the glass of iced tea against her forehead, not so much to cool off but to slow down her racing thoughts. Where to start? What could she tell? What did they know?
“Mom.”
“I know it must be hard having her back in the house,” Uncle Jacob said. “But it takes time; you know that, you’ve been through this before. This time you’re older, more independent, so . . .”
“That’s part of it, but . . .”
“But.”
Miles away, her friends were marching, the crowd was cheering, and the Sam Houston High Rockets were courageously facing down their opponents. Across the oceans, brave men and women of the US Military put their lives on the line. Heroes, Paige thought. I’m a coward.
Aunt Tracy left her deck chair, walked over to Paige, and knelt down next to her. She pushed her hair out of her face, kissed her on the cheek,
and whispered, “What’s wrong?”
“She’s an addict,” Paige confessed. “OxyContin. Valium. She’s a zombie most nights.”
Her aunt winced as if she was in pain. “We know, Paige. We’ve tried to talk with her, but she won’t even discuss it. I don’t want to put you through more than you can handle, but your mom would be devastated if you moved out.”
“If she’s in so much pain, why doesn’t she just retire and deal with it?” Paige asked.
“Her service is her life,” Uncle Jacob said. “And nobody wants to be a veteran now.”
Paige recalled horror stories from kids at school about their vet parents waiting years to get help. But her mom needed help. She was strong, but like that plate in the sink, she was broken in half. Half of the day able to function, half a zombie. Half at home, half still deployed.
“We need to do something,” Paige said. “An intervention like on TV.”
“I don’t think that would work with my sister,” Uncle Jacob said. “Give her time, Paige.”
“Why doesn’t she get help from the Air Force?”
“I think she’s afraid of letting them know. They have zero tolerance and it could affect her career. Don’t worry. Your mom is a fighter. She’ll kick it.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Paige asked. Her uncle answered with roaring silence.
17
OCTOBER 30 / FRIDAY / LATE EVENING
DAVID GARCIA’S HOUSE
“Tell me all about the game,” Paige whispered into David’s left ear. His right ear held an earbud from Paige’s phone as they shared music.
They sat on the sofa in David’s basement. David’s Aunt Lita had long since gone to bed. “I’m glad you came over,” David said. “I thought you were grounded.”
“I am.” She’d waited until her mother passed out before sneaking out of the house.
“Won’t you get in trouble?”
Paige pushed herself closer to David. She could feel his ribs under his uniform that he still proudly wore. The knit of the uniform was tough, fibers held closely together.
“There’s not much she can do,” Paige said. She’d never been grounded by her aunt and uncle, never been in trouble at home or in school; this was all new to her, scary, exciting.
“What if she tells you that you can’t see me again?” David asked.
Paige turned her head, kissed David like it was the last time, and said, “I’d kill myself.”
“Paige, don’t say things like that,” David whispered.
Paige paused. She’d heard stories at school about students trying to kill themselves. There were so many stories that at least one had to be true. If her mom took David away, Paige thought, she’d have nothing left to live for. Why live a life of pain and loss?
“Promise me,” David said in his most serious voice. “Promise me you won’t . . .”
Paige kissed him again. “David, I promise I won’t kill myself.”
David pulled Paige tighter. She wrapped David around her like a warm blanket on a rare, cold San Antonio night and let the music fill their ears since there was nothing left to say.
***
David was asleep when Paige woke up. It was four in the morning. Paige picked up her purse and snuck up the stairs and out the door. She rode her bike toward home, helmet off, letting the sounds of early morning San Antonio, including the roar of Air Force planes, fill her ears.
Perry’s truck was in the driveway. Paige figured like most nights, he’d arrived home a little after 2 a.m., closing time at the local bars. She saw him rarely, like he was getting her ready for next summer and the rest of her life when he’d be more memory than man.
The house was dark, save for a hall light. Silent, save for the hum of the air conditioner, and something else, from the living room. Like water going down after clearing a clogged drain.
Her mom, on the sofa, on her back. Her phone cradled on her chest, the dim light from it illuminating her face. No makeup. Her short hair unwashed, messy. Her cheeks wet.
“You’ll be home soon,” Paige’s mom mumbled, or something like it. She’d say something, go silent, try but fail to speak again. Paige thought this wasn’t how a mom was supposed to look. She looked more like a baby trying to learn to walk, talk, become a person. Her mom wasn’t a person, at least not after dark. “I love you, Captain.”
Paige ripped the phone from her mom’s hand and put it against her ear. There was a man’s voice. “Who is this?” Paige shouted, but the voice kept talking over her, like he couldn’t even hear her. Frustrated, Paige ended the call. Last dialed: voicemail. “Mom, wake up!”
Paige’s mother mumbled. She tried to sit up but couldn’t. “What?”
“Mom, who are you talking to?” Paige shouted. Her mom’s eyes rolled back in her head. Paige grabbed her mom by the shoulders, lifted her up, and screamed, “Wake up!”
Her mom’s heavy eyelids opened slowly but closed quickly. Paige pushed her mother back on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. “Is that you, Pug?” her mom mumbled.
Paige knelt by the sofa, rested her head on her mom’s chest. “It’s me, Mom,” said Paige. Except she wasn’t Pug anymore, and her mom was Mom only in name, not in action.
18
OCTOBER 31 / HALLOWEEN NIGHT
HARKINS’ HOUSE
“Trick or treat!” Paige heard kids yell from outside the front door, far from where she stood. Her mom sat in a chair by the front door handing out candy. She had been unable to convince Paige to join her, do it herself, or go trick-or-treating (“You used to love that”).
While her mom handed out candy, Paige gathered up pills from her mom’s room. Paige filled the bag with OxyContin but also with other pills, like Valium, muscle relaxers, anti-depressants, and sleeping pills. It was a pharmacy of addiction.
Once she gathered up the pills, Paige told her mother she was going to study. She shut her bedroom door, put in her earbuds, opened up her chemistry book, and waited. Like a unit arranging an ambush, Paige just needed patience to get the enemy out into the light of day.
The doorbell stopped ringing after eight and Paige heard her mom’s end-of-day ritual. She was slowly checking that all the windows were closed and locked, opening the refrigerator, opening the Lone Star Light, closing the fridge door. Then she walked slowly toward the bathroom. No pills there. Her mom rarely had them out in the open. A secret. A secret about to be revealed.
The bathroom door opened. “Good night, Pug,” her mom whispered outside Paige’s door. Her mom’s bedroom door opened and closed. Paige rose from her bed, left her room, and knelt by her mom’s door. She wanted to hear it all. The drawer opened, closed, and opened again as if the results would be different. The second time, the drawer wasn’t shut, it was slammed. Then the next drawer and the next. Like mortar fire with seconds between blasts, the drawers exploded with angry slams.
Then silence. Absolute silence, as though her mom had stopped breathing. Paige stared at the wedding photo of her parents on the hall wall. Her dad in uniform, her mom pregnant, their lives full of hope, all dead in Afghanistan. How?
She had her mom’s pills, her quid; Paige needed the quo. She needed to know. She tiptoed back to her room to wait.
The knock at the door was louder than she imagined. Like thunder. “Paige!”
Paige locked the door just as her mom pulled on the knob. “Paige, open up!”
More knocking that turned to pounding and finally kicking. Neither the door nor Paige would budge. Paige heard her mom’s heavy breathing, the cursing, and the sounds of pain.
“Paige, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you open this door now.”
“How did he die?” Paige shouted. “Tell me and I’ll open the door.” Paige made no promises about giving her back her pills. Fighting one fire at a time.
Silence. Then Paige heard her mother slide to the floor. On her side of the door, Paige did the same. A light sound, maybe her mom’s palm pressed on the door, followed. Paige put
her hand against the door. Where once oceans separated them, now just one wooden door. One truth.
“I never told you, Paige, because you didn’t need to know the horror of war,” her mom said slowly. “He was traveling in a convoy away from the base. They came upon a group of boys playing. One was a little older than Perry, about nine. He asked your father for water.”
Paige closed her eyes and tried to imagine the scene of a nine-year-old Iraqi boy.
“Your father handed the kid his canteen,” Paige’s mom said, her voice shaking. “When he handed it back, the boy took out a knife and stabbed your father in the side. Just then, a man came out with an AK and opened fire. The squad handled the man; your father shot the boy.”
Paige looked at a photo of her dad on her desk. He’d never seemed so alive to her than in this long-overdue story of his death. “They couldn’t stitch him up? He didn’t bleed to death, did he?”
“He never got the image of shooting that young boy out of his head,” Paige’s mom whispered. “No matter what he did, where he went, he kept thinking of that boy’s face.”
“It was war,” Paige said. “He didn’t have any choice but to shoot him, no matter—”
“That’s what I told him, but he didn’t listen,” her mom said. “He came back home. You were little. You don’t remember, but then he got deployed again. For the last time.”
“Mom, I don’t understand, didn’t he die when that boy—”
“He died that day, Paige, his soul did at least, but his body kept living, fulfilling his mission, until it all just got to be too much for him. Paige, your father killed himself.”
Paige’s mouth opened, but no words came. Instead, a yelp, like a dog hit by a car.
“Every soldier deals with the pain of war in a different way,” her mom said. “Your father couldn’t handle his pain, but I’m trying to manage mine the best I can. Open the door.”
“Mom, you’re killing yourself, too.”
“Open the door, Paige.”
“Mom, you’ve got to stop.”
“You don’t think I know that?” A fist pounded against the door. Paige reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of OxyContin. After opening the bottle, she balanced one pill on her fingertip and slipped it under the door like a peace offering. “Open the door, Paige.”
Freedom Flight Page 4