When She Came Home (23 page)

“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?”

A
t 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 hot 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.”

“Belasco really came to see you? You must be a very important person. I’m impressed.”

“I won’t testify.”

“If you can’t say the words—”

“I can’t.”

“It’s up to you, Frankie.”

“You think I should.” Telling the truth for all the world to hear, the shame would be too great. “Don’t ask me to do it.”

“I’m not asking. But whatever you do, you have to be sure it’s for the right reasons. Put yourself first, not the general.”

“Bunny said it would kill him.”

“Bunny Bunson’s the king of the bullshitters. You know that. After all your old man’s been through, I don’t think hearing the truth would hurt him.”

Holding her face in his warm hands, he kissed her eyelids and, lightly, her lips.

“It’s not even noon,” Frankie murmured. “Why are you here? You came home in the middle of the day. Why?”

“Jesus, honey, figure it out. I was having a crappy day. I didn’t sleep last night. I lay on the couch in the great room and watched TV. My eyes feel like fried eggs.”

“You could have come upstairs.”

“I knew if I stayed in the bedroom I was going to say things I’d be sorry for later.”

“Like what?”

“Ah, babe, I felt so helpless, so done in. I wanted to walk. I got to work before seven and left a message on Tom Courtney’s machine.” Tom was their lawyer. “I told him we were splitting up. I thought, after I said that, I’d feel something. Maybe not better but at least relieved. Only I didn’t, I felt worse.”

“Are you still—?”

“What would be the point, Frankie?” He held her more tightly. “With you or without you, I’d still be miserable. This family is everything to me.”

“It’s my fault.”

For some reason, her words made him chuckle to himself. “Maybe it is. A lot of it. But when I’m not feeling sorry for myself, I know that as bad as these last weeks have been, it’s gotta be worse for you and I feel like a shit for giving up.”

“I might get worse. I might get worse and worse until I go crazy. It happens sometimes. Not everyone gets better.”

“If that happens, I guess we’ll figure something out.”

“You could build me a little house in the backyard. Lock the door.”

“Nah, the planning commission wouldn’t give me a permit.” His arms tightened around her. “I guess I’m basically an optimist. I tried being a pessimist for a few hours but it didn’t work for me.” He unwound the towel turban around her hair and dropped it onto the floor. He combed his fingers through her damp and tangled hair. “I love you, Frankie. When it comes down to it, I’d rather be unhappy with you than without. I can stick it out if you can.”

Glory came into the bedroom, holding Zee-Zee. “Are we ever gonna eat lunch?”

Frankie made a space beside her. “Want to cuddle?”

Glory scooted up and snuggled down under the comforter between her mother and father, a pleased look on her face. At the foot of the bed, Flame eyed them longingly.

“Can she come up too?”

The setter, fluent in human body language, jumped and found a spot at Glory’s feet.

Rick grabbed the remote off the bedside table and clicked on the television. “Let’s see what the leisure class watches in the middle of the day.”

“Can we have pizza for lunch?”

“Sure.” How easy life was when she stopped fighting it.

“Can we eat it on the bed and watch a movie?”

Frankie looked at Rick. It was a relief to laugh together.

“I know how to order on the phone, Mom. When you were in Iraq I did it lots of times.”

It wasn’t that Frankie’s problems had gone away or that she’d forgotten them. Belasco and her hearings were a question mark, the General was still the General, Glory had been suspended from school, and Domino had vanished. But for an afternoon none of these seemed material and she was going to sit on the bed, eat pizza, and watch a movie with her husband and daughter and dog. Today was an oasis where the caravan could stop for a while before heading back into the desert.

A
t a little before ten that night as Frankie was in the great room folding laundry, Dekker called.

“You still want to see Domino?”

“I said I did.”

“Okay, then. I’ll meet you up at the Jack around eleven.”

When she put down her phone, Rick was looking at her.

“I have to do this.”

“Can’t this guy give her a message about the hepatitis?”

“You’re right. He could.”

She held Rick’s hands against her heart, aware that this moment was, in its way, as important to their future as their talk on the bed that morning. If Rick could understand why she had to see and talk to Domino, it would mean that his words—
I can stick it out—
stemmed from something more substantial than hope and wishful thinking.