Veil of Silence (20 page)

“How long have you been home?”

Marsha debated on whether she should lie or not.  She suspected he was asking because he wanted something to say rather than a true desire to know the timeline.  “A couple of weeks,” she hedged.

“Why didn’t you call sooner?  Why didn’t the army call us?  We could have come and picked you up!  We could have brought you home.”

“Dad, I
am
home.”  She glanced up to see Heather rolling her eyes and turning away in annoyance.  She nearly laughed at her wife’s reaction to the one-sided conversation.

“Who is it, Lawrence?” she heard her mother’s voice in the background and almost cringed.

“It’s Marsha,” he said and Marsha could hear something that sounded suspiciously like tears in his voice.

“That’s not funny, Lawrence!  Who is it?”  Her mother’s angry voice came clearly through the line.

“I’m not kidding, MaryBeth.  It’s really Marsha,” he protested and Marsha could hear something was going on.

“Dad?  What’s going on?” she asked, only to hear her mother come on the line.  It was then she realized her mother must have taken the phone away from her dad.

“Hello?  Who is this?” the voice grated on Marsha’s nerves immediately.

“Hi, Mom.  It’s Marsha.  I’m back.”  She tried to sound chipper and happy to hear her mother’s voice, but she really felt tense.  The baby moved, sensing her anxiety.  Heather reached out and took her free hand in her own and started caressing it, squeezing it to let Marsha know that she was there for her through this.

“Marsha?  Oh, my gawd!  Where are you?  Are you at the base?  Are you in Afghanistan?  Where are you?  We’ll come and get you.  We’ll bring you home.”  She didn’t pause and said it all in one breath.

Marsha waited for her mother to pause and when it wasn’t forthcoming she interrupted, cringing as she did so.  “I am home, Mom.  I’m here with Heather.”

“I meant we’d bring you
here
, home,” she stressed, ignoring the reference to Heather.  “Is Hayley there with you?”

Where else would her daughter be?  “Of course, Mom.  Heather and Hayley are both here,” she answered calmly.  Some of the old smart aleck in her wanted to say they were out earning a living by hooking or something, but she knew the joke would fall flat on her mother’s ears and then she would have to deal with a lecture on her smart mouth.

“Well, we’ll leave tomorrow and come get you,” she stated, as though it were a fact and no one would debate it.  “Your father will gas up the car and I’ll pack….”

“Mom, I can’t leave,” she interrupted, knowing that was a chancy thing to do.  Her mother never liked to be interrupted, considering it rude.  She didn’t, however, let anyone else speak, so it was hard not to interrupt her. 

“Are you okay?  What did those monsters do to you?  Did they lock you up?  Are you hurt?”

“Mom, I’m still being debriefed,” she told her the lesser of the evils as the baby kicked her, hard.  She pulled her hand from Heather’s to rub and calm the upset baby.  Heather watched her, concerned, knowing how stressful Marsha’s mom could be.

“Oh, the army isn’t done with that nonsense yet?”

Marsha realized her mother had no idea what was involved in being in the army.  She thought they were just glorified guards and there to appear in parades.  She admired that they were in perfect step or that their uniforms shined up so nicely, but she really had no clue what Marsha had done while in the service.  “It can take a while,” she answered, trying to put it in terms that her mother would understand.

“Well, we’ll come for a visit and see Hayley and take you out to…” she began as though Marsha hadn’t spoken.

“Now is not a good time, Mom,” she quickly interrupted again, cringing, knowing one of these times her mother would notice the interruption and berate her for this breech of propriety.  She looked around the small house, wondering where they would put them anyway.  She wondered where they had stayed when they visited Heather and Hayley while she was gone.  She needn’t have wondered as her mother seemed to have read her mind.

“Well, we won’t stay
there
,” she said in a disparaging tone.  “
That
woman wouldn’t let us anyway.  We can stay in a hotel and Hayley can use the pool.  Won’t she like that?”

“Mom, now is not a good time.  I’m dealing with a lot.  I just called to let you know I was alive and well,” she rubbed her stomach as she said that and caught Heather’s eye.  Her wife was looking at her apologetically, as though she understood exactly what her mother was saying.

“Well, you should have your family around you at a time like this!”

Marsha realized how many times her mother started a sentence with the word ‘well.’  It was annoying and she found herself focusing in on it, not the outrage of what she was saying.  Thinking about the last thing her mother said had her annoyed.  “I am surrounded by my family,” she pointed out, wondering what her mother would say about the additions she had made to it.  Heather was her wife and Hayley her child.  They were the only family she needed.  For her mother to continue to disparage her wife angered her.

“Yes, but we are the ones that love you,” she answered, perfectly content in her belief that no one could love her daughter like she could.

“Mom, do you even hear yourself?” she exploded.  “Heather is my wife.  She loves me.  And Hayley is OUR daughter.  How dare you dismiss her as though she is merely Hayley’s caregiver?  She is just as much Hayley’s mother as I am.  Just because I gave birth to her doesn’t make me any more the child’s mother than Heather.  Furthermore, I don’t want you here right now because I’m not only dealing with the army and my debriefing, but I also happen to be enormously pregnant and due any day.  I don’t need you or your criticism of my life breathing down my neck.  If you can’t learn to talk to me as an adult, or at least talk about my wife without sneering, we really have nothing more to say to each other!”  She could hear her mother’s intake of breath at the revelations she had just spouted.  She hadn’t meant to tell her like that, but really, how could she tell her she was pregnant or had other children…not in the frame of mind her mother was already in.  She wasn’t just happy that Marsha was alive, she wanted to take over and take her back to their home.  She had a home.  A home with Heather and their children. 

“You’re pregnant?  Again?  Who is the father?  What did those monsters do to you?  How long have you been back?  Were you really away this long?  Was this some trick to keep us away?”

Heather could see the annoyance on Marsha’s face.  She could only imagine what MaryBeth was saying.  That woman could, and frequently did, annoy everyone around her.  She wasn’t even aware of it and always denied it when it was pointed out to her.  How Lawrence, who was a sweetie, put up with her, Heather couldn’t figure out.  They were of a generation that you simply didn’t divorce, so maybe that was it.

“Mom, I’m hanging up now.  I won’t tolerate your verbal assaults.  I’m in a delicate condition….”

Heather nearly choked on her laughter as she snorted.  Marsha had never been in a delicate condition in her life.  She had handled her pregnancy with Hayley with no problems and she was sailing through this one from what she could see.  The doctor had been impressed with how healthy she was despite having no pre-natal care and with everything she had been through. 

Marsha looked at the phone as she disconnected the call.  It rang almost immediately and she picked it up, heard her mother’s voice, and disconnected it again, this time leaving the receiver off the hook.  She studied the phone for a moment until Heather reached out and captured her hand.  To her surprise, Marsha was shaking.

“You okay, babe?” she asked, softly.

Marsha looked up at her, deep brown eyes meeting cornflower blue ones.  “I thought I could take her, but I suddenly felt like Malekah was berating me again.”

Heather sat up imperceptivity, more alert whenever her spouse mentioned the people in Afghanistan who had imprisoned her for so long.  The little she had gleaned from the disk was nothing compared to hearing Marsha talk about it firsthand.  She had reported it on the video, but not with the nuance of feeling and emotion that was evident at this moment.  Heather needed to hear that straight from Marsha as she battled her own need for acceptance of the situation.  It had been good to talk to the psychologists and she suspected she would need to again, but meanwhile she thought she was coping well.  “I’m sure she meant well…” she began, excusing that exasperating woman.

“You really aren’t going to try and defend her are you?” she scoffed.

Heather smiled a little, letting the humor of the situation out in her smile.  “No, I know only too well what your mother can be like.”

“I can only imagine what she did while I was gone,” she sighed deeply and then, realizing Heather wasn’t upset, she too began to smile.  “Maybe you should call your folks?”

Heather chuckled and shook her head.  “No, Christmas cards with Hayley’s pictures are enough for me.  Besides, if I call them they are going to think I’m calling to ask for money.”

“Was it that hard that you had to….”

Shaking her head harder.  “I never asked, but you know how people assume.”  A single mother and the status of her mate unknown…of course she needed money.

“I can only hope that Lance gets things worked out,” she sighed.  “He really seems to be on the ball.”

“We’ll manage,” the blonde said confidently, positive that with Marsha there they would work it out.  She was just so happy to have her home.  So often she had sat in front of the TV after Hayley went to bed to mindlessly forget that she had a lifetime of being alone, of raising their child alone.  In just a short period of time she had a household of children, was enjoying it enormously, and she had her wife back.  “You okay?” she asked again as Marsha’s face scrunched up and she rubbed her belly.

“Yeah, junior here is jumping on my bladder,” she began to get up, “I have to use the bathroom.”

Heather smiled as she watched Marsha waddle toward their bathroom.

* * * * *

Heather locked up for the night and went to the bedroom when Marsha didn’t return to the kitchen where she had phoned her folks.  She found Marsha standing there, looking at the crib that Heather had resurrected from the basement.  She’d brought it upstairs, sanded down the rough spots, and with the children’s help, painted it.

“Those hand prints are adorable,” Marsha stated to the room, sensing Heather’s presence behind her.

“The kids liked it,” she grinned, remembering how their hands dipped into the paint.  She’d had to hold each of them so they didn’t get too generous with the hand prints that now decorated the white crib.  Each child had used a color they had chosen themselves.  Yellow for Hayley who said it was like a hayfield, enjoying the story that Marsha had told her.  Green for Bahir who insisted the plants of spring were very important.  Marsha hadn’t had any gold paint for Amir, but she explained to the little boy that blue was royal.  He had no comprehension of what she meant, but eagerly got his hand dipped in the paint repeatedly as she stamped the print on the wood of the crib.  She explained their new brother or sister would have their hands surrounding them when they slept.  The two girls seemed to understand that.  She knew Amir had no clue, but he had fun and that was what was important as they put things together.  She was enjoying having a little one around the house again and Bahir was a joy with her questions as she learned more words in English.  That reminded Heather, “How did you teach the children English when you were over there?”

Marsha looked up from examining the beautiful crib.  Her eyes got a lost, far-away look when she talked about the past.  She knew from the psychologists that it was important not to suppress these memories, but she still had a hard time talking about it now and then.  Years of being told to be quiet and say nothing had been impressed upon her for too long.  Even the army was having trouble getting information out of her.  Her silence was frustrating everyone, including her.  “I used to play games when I was allowed time with them and I’d use English words.  I had to be careful because Zabi and Melkah both disapproved.”

“Then why do it?” she asked, knowing Marsha had probably been beaten for insolence.

“Because they were
mine
,” she answered angrily.

Heather was startled.  These mood swings were scary sometimes.  The psychologists had warned her that Marsha had PTSD and there would be problems she would need to work out.  They advised her to be patient, but if they became violent, she was to call for help.

“They weren’t
hers
,” she continued as she spat it out.  “That dried up old prune couldn’t have children so she confiscated mine, but she couldn’t take care of them all the time.  She was far too important in her own mind within the tribe, so I became the nanny to my own children,” she sobbed slightly.  Heather made a move to take Marsha in her arms, but was halted by a raised hand as the black-haired woman collected herself.  “I had to be careful, but children are sponges.”  She glanced at Heather who nodded.  “Since it was a game, I made it a secret.  I had to defy them where I could, you know?”

Heather nodded again.  “You have to tell them this.”

“Tell who?”

“The army.  They have to know that despite your situation, you defied them.  They need to know you weren’t there willingly.”

Marsha looked long and hard at Heather as she evaluated the words and then nodded.  It made sense.  Inconsequential things like this were what she missed and she was grateful to have such a smart and understanding wife.  She filed this away to discuss it tomorrow with the SERE psychologists who had been talking to her for a week.

* * * * *

Marsha and Heather weren’t surprised to find a note taped to their front door the next day when they returned from the base.  The psychologists had made sure that there was someone to play with the children while both adults met with the psychologists.  Both of them had individual sessions as well as couple’s therapy.  They were able to work through a lot of things that neither knew they were angry about, as well as provide valuable information from Marsha…the small things as she recalled details of her captivity, all information she had thought too insignificant to share.  Heather had been surprised to find out she was angry with her wife.  She’d talked about it with the psychologist assigned to her.  Her homework was to talk about it with her wife.