“Plus,” Hattie said. “There was no trace of residue on her fingers and hands. She would have had that, had she handled the weapon herself. All this evidence was right in front of them, and yet they still concluded it was a suicide.”
“We have tried to ask them to reopen the case, but they won’t. The official response from them is still that the case is closed. They keep insisting she killed herself, that she was depressed and had shown signs of depression for a long time before the incident, that they had discussed putting her on suicide watch. But that just wasn’t my sister,” Vera says. “I spoke to her two days before it happened, and she wasn’t depressed. She was looking forward to coming home for Christmas. I’ve started an online petition asking the Air Force to reopen the case. I have written to members of Congress, government and legal officials, and even they are met with the same reply when they try to help. The case is closed. There’s nothing more we can do.”
“We’re not giving up, though,” Sammy says. His cheeks are blushing, his fists clenched. “We just need to keep pushing until we wear them down.”
I stay with Vera’s parents way too long. We talk about Clarice, and they tell me so much about her, what she was like as a child, how she always wanted to grow up and join the Air Force, and I can tell they enjoy being able to talk about her. I’m guessing not many people ask about her anymore, out of fear. People get like that when you lose someone, afraid to mention their name or talk about them. It’s like they think you’d rather forget they were ever here, but that’s not how it works. I know this because I lost a brother once, many years ago. He was only three years old when he developed an aggressive type of cancer that killed him within the next six months. It almost killed my mother, and it broke all of us to pieces. And we never talked about him once he was gone, which was the biggest grief for me. My mom would hush me if I mentioned him, or she’d tell me to go to my room. She didn’t want to remember him, and I never understood that. I needed to talk about him and to remember. I was later told by someone that all people grieve differently, but I’m not sure my mother grieved at all. I think she shut it all out and refused to deal with it. In that way, I guess she never did.
I stay with them for so long that I realize I am late when I finally get up and grab my phone. I only have forty-five minutes until the kids return on the school bus, and the drive back is at least an hour. Luckily, both kids know where to find the spare key and can easily stay at the house alone on base. They’re just not very used to it.
“It was very nice of you to tell me her story,” I say as I hug them goodbye. Hattie holds me tight for a little longer, then smiles, her eyes turning moist.
“Thank you for listening. It’s been a while since anyone wanted to.”
I nod and smile gently, feeling awful for these poor grieving parents. To not only have to deal with burying your daughter but also having the doubt, the lack of closure because you don’t know what really happened. It’s gotta be tough.
“Thank you,” Sammy says and hugs me with his strong arms. He’s a small man, but still very fit, and it feels like he could easily crush me using his bare hands. He lets go of me but keeps holding my hands between his, then looks me deep in the eyes.
“You’re a journalist, right?”
“I used to be once many years ago.”
“Do with this what you want. You have our permission.”
I look into his eyes and can tell he’s not just allowing me; he’s begging me. I suddenly get a strong urge to write a piece on this story. I feel like I owe it to them somehow. I also get the feeling that I have put my hand into the hornet’s nest, and I have no idea what I have gotten myself into.
Chapter 14
Ryan is home when I get back. He left in the morning to go to physical therapy, he told me. I don’t know if it is true or not. I don’t know if anything he tells me is true anymore. That’s what one lie does to you.
“Where were you?” he asks, walking into the kitchen where I am taking out the meat for tonight’s dinner. It’s too late, and it probably won’t thaw in time. “Where were you all day?”
He is smiling while he says it, but I have the sense that he’s not happy. The smile comes off as stiff, and his narrowing eyes tell me he is pretending.
“I was with Vera,” I say, putting the meat on the counter. I fill a pot of water to put it in, so it’ll thaw faster. “It was her day off.”
“You’ve been with her a lot lately, haven’t you? Didn’t you just have lunch the other day? What can you two possibly have to talk about so often? I didn’t think she was your type?”
I pause. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that…Vera is the unmarried type, the wild one, the one no man dares even to date because she’s a little…crazy, you know?”
I shake my head with a small scoff. “No, I don’t know that. Vera is nice, and she makes me laugh.”
“Her sister was like that too. She was mentally unstable. I think that’s why she killed herself. Not that I know much about it, but that’s what I heard.”
“How can you say that?” I ask, feeling sick to my stomach after what I heard earlier today.
He shrugs and grins. “I don’t mean any disrespect or anything, but she wasn’t all there, you know? Something was always off about her, in my opinion. I don’t want you to hang out around her sister. Can’t you find someone else to have lunches with?”
“You don’t want me to hang out with her?” I ask, puzzled by this. Ryan has never tried to tell me who to hang out with and who not to. Is he trying to control me? “I’m not sure that’s your call to make. I like her.”
“Yes, you said that. She makes you laugh. I just don’t think she’s good for you. Besides, so do I. I make you laugh,” he says. “Why not spend more time with me instead of Vera? We can go see a comedy show if you want to laugh more.”
I put the pot down, my back still turned to him. I don’t like that he is trying to restrict who I can see. Why is he suddenly trying to do that now?
I sense he is moving closer. He kisses my neck, and I shiver lightly. His hands move quickly onto my breasts, and he is moaning softly.
“I can be way more fun than she’ll ever be,” he says and nibbles my earlobe. “Don’t you think?”
I chuckle. Not because I find it amusing, but because I don’t know what to say. I don’t push him away. I’m trying to save my marriage here, but that is actually what I feel like doing right now. Yet, I don’t. I chuckle instead—a nervous and awkward chuckle.
“That wasn’t meant to be funny,” he says and lets his hand slide into my pants. He is touching me, and I let him, closing my eyes. I don’t even hear the small steps behind us until the voice says.
“What are you guys doing?”
Ryan pulls away with a gasp. At first, I think he’s laughing, but I realize too late that he isn’t. He is shocked and turns around fast, then lifts his hand in the air, fist clenched, ready to swing it, to hit Damian, when I yell at him.