Pam
Trish took deep gulps of air, like a drowning person, and commanded herself to calm down. For a long time—she didn’t know how many minutes went by—she stared at the computer screen. Afghanistan? The war zone? Pam was going right into the war that killed Laura? How could that be? Was she crazy?
Feeling sick to her stomach, she pulled the cordless phone from its cradle and stabbed angrily at the keypad. On the third ring, Pam picked up.
Without preamble, Trish said, “What in hell’s name do you think you’re doing?”
“Wait. Let me explain.”
“Explain what? That you’re going over there like some ghoul or daredevil to see where Laura died? Jesus, it’s dangerous over there, Pam!”
“I know that, but it’s only for a few days, and the army will keep me safe.”
“Safe?” Trish was incredulous. “Like they kept Laura safe?”
“Look, I’m a civilian. They won’t put me in harm’s way. And I’m not a daredevil or a ghoul. It’s a healing thing, a chance to see where Laura worked and to talk to the people she worked with. And Camille tells me there’s some kind of memorial to her at the base, and they’re going to do some other kind of dedication to her.”
A knot of emotion throbbed in Trish’s chest. Dammit, she was not going to lose Pam to Afghanistan too. Quietly seething, she said, “Is this also part of your plan to figure out your identity?”
“Yes.” Pam blew out an exasperated breath. “I need to do this, Trish. For me.”
“Dammit, Pam.”
“I know.”
No, Pam didn’t know, Trish thought. She couldn’t have been presented with this gift, this glimpse of how life might be with someone else, only to have it snatched away again. By the goddamned army! Was there no limit to the army’s cruelty? To its possessive reach? Jesus Christ!
“Then the least you can do is to let me come with you.” The words were out in an angry burst before she could stop herself.
“Trish, you don’t want to do that.”
“Why not? And don’t tell me it’s dangerous. If it’s safe enough for you, it’s safe enough for me.”
“No, that’s not what I was going to say. You’re so angry at the army, I don’t see how…”
“My anger is my business.”
“I know it is. But how could going there possibly…”
“Look, you said yourself that I need to come to terms with my anger. And this trip is supposed to be healing. I think it makes sense for me.”
Pam paused so long, Trish was about to ask if she was still there.
“Is that the only reason you want to come?”
“No,” Trish replied. Her voice faltered. “Maybe somehow, I don’t know, I can help keep you safe.”
“Oh, Trish.” Pam’s voice softened. There was unmistakable love in her voice, and it nearly melted Trish.
Tears escaped from Trish’s eyes. She could barely speak. “I couldn’t keep Laura safe, but maybe you…”
“Honey, you can’t keep me safe, just as you—or I—couldn’t keep Laura safe either. It is what it is. I’m doing this fully aware of the risks.”
“Let me come.”
She could picture Pam shaking her head, biting her bottom lip in that adorable way she had when she was worried. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. I am.”
Chapter Sixteen
Trish’s suitcase lay on her bed between her and Rosa, symbolic, Trish supposed, of the fact that there was always something dividing them in spite of their close friendship.
Rosa had come over on the pretense of helping her pack for Afghanistan, but Trish expected her friend to start lecturing her any minute on how she was making a big mistake.
“Okay,” Trish muttered, figuring she’d make a preemptive strike. “Go ahead and tell me I’m being foolish. That this whole thing is a bad idea.”
“I never said it was.”
“No, but you’re about to.”
“Clairvoyant now, are you?” Rosa said with a smirk that indicated she wasn’t amused. “Boy, you sure are a woman with a plethora of talents.”
“You can stop with the sarcasm any minute now.”
“Fine. Sorry. I’m not quite sure I understand why you’re doing this. Why it’s worth risking your life.”
“Because maybe it will help me understand what Laura was doing over there. Why she was so goddamned committed to the army and her fellow soldiers. Why they always mattered more than me or her own family.”
“What if Afghanistan doesn’t give you those answers?”
“Then I’ll never understand any of it. And that’ll be the end of it.”
“You might find tiny remnants of Laura there, but you won’t find her there, if that’s why you’re going.”
“No, that’s not why I’m going. I’m not looking for her. Or for her ghost. Some answers, yes, but that’s all.”
“What about Pam?”
“What about her?”
“Are you doing this just to follow her? So she doesn’t get away?”
“No. Pam’s a big girl. She has her own reasons for doing this.”
Rosa’s eyes were implacable. It was that damned, disbelieving look she had, practiced during years of teaching. Well, Trish was a teacher too. “I think you’re afraid of losing her. Literally and figuratively.”
Trish leaned heavily against the headboard. Why did they always have to have this stubborn little dance, this wielding of words like fencers jabbing with swords, before they got to the truth?
“I think I might be falling in love with her,” Trish confessed.
“Oh, dear. It’s serious, then?”
“Yes.”
“How did it happen?”
“I don’t know. Really, I don’t. I mean, we were incredibly distraught and grieving together over Laura, then we were needing each other, and then…”
“You found comfort and solace and a kindred spirit in one another?”
“Yes. And more. I mean, all those years when I was with Laura, Pam was just a kid. The little sister who tagged along, you know? I never gave her much thought, other than feeling familial affection toward her. I knew she had a crush on me, but big deal. She’s not the first baby dyke to have a crush on her older sister’s girlfriend.”
“So when did you become attracted to her?”
Trish thought back to the moment when her heart unexpectedly lurched the first time Pam held her in her arms, when she’d shown up unannounced at the funeral home. “When she first held me. When I first looked into her eyes and saw a grown woman. A woman who still loved me, only deeply this time. A woman I had absolutely no good reason not to consider that way.”
“And why aren’t you with her now? What happened?”
Slowly, Trish shook her head, remembering the withdrawing of emotions, the gulf between them since they’d nearly made love. They still had not discussed what had happened, nor whether they could salvage their budding relationship from these ruins Pam had made in her quest for her identity. Ruins they’d both had a hand in making.
“I don’t really know.” Her declaration was insufficient as an explanation, but it was the truth.
Rosa was frowning at her with that typical Rosa skepticism. “Come on, something must have happened.”
“It almost did.”
“Huh?”
They’d come so close to making love, Trish ached at the memory. Pam’s breasts were so perfect, the flesh so soft and yet firm beneath her hands and against her lips. She remembered how they rose and fell with each breath, stiffened with every touch. The sweet memories flashed through her mind…Pam’s stomach quivering as Trish ran her fingers across it, Pam’s mouth open and silently begging for more as her eyes squeezed out the world, the arching of her back to give Trish more access.
“Oh, God,” Trish whispered, her breath caught up in her throat. She would do almost anything to have that moment back, to have Pam in her bed and in her arms. Simply to have Pam. “I thi
nk I’ve lost her.”
“Then don’t chase her, that’s the worst thing you can do. Let her know you’re here, but for God’s sake, don’t go running after her to Afghanistan.”
“No.” Trish stood, began pacing the plank floors of her bedroom. “That’s not what I’m doing. I’m not chasing her.”
“Are you going there to try to protect her?”
“What are you talking about now?” Rosa and her damned questions!
“Are you afraid she’s going to get hurt or killed? Like Laura? Or that she’s going to stay there?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She couldn’t admit that all of those things were in large part fueling her motivation. Admitting it to Rosa would make it sound as ridiculous as it probably was.
“It makes sense to me. You couldn’t protect Laura from getting hurt, and you sure as hell couldn’t get her to stay here. You’re not going to make those same mistakes with Pam, are you?”
Trish’s anger and frustration rose in her like a mushroom cloud expanding slowly outward. “Goddammit, Rosa! You make me sound like some possessive, crazy bitch. Or just plain possessed. You really think I would risk going to a war zone so I could somehow protect Pam or force her to come back to me?”
Rosa couldn’t seem to keep the tiny victorious smirk from her lips; Trish wanted to slap it off her.
“I think this is it for you. That you gave your heart to Laura and lost it. Pam’s the last time you’ll risk your heart on anyone again, and you want to make damned sure it doesn’t get broken. And yes, even if it means going to a war zone. In fact, you have to admit there’s a certain serendipity to it. You couldn’t snatch Laura from the jaws of war, but with Pam, there’s a good chance you can do exactly that.”
Trish collapsed on the bed, dragged a hand across her face. Rosa was damned exhausting sometimes. Damned annoying too. But she was almost always right. “Fuck. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. But it feels like I should go. Like I need to go. I feel like Pam and I are in this thing together, wherever it takes us.”
Rosa slid an arm around her shoulder. “Then go, okay? No matter what the reason. Just come back with your heart and your body intact. And with some answers.”
“I’ll try.”
“Oh, and if anything happens to you over there, I’m going to kick your ass when I see you again. And Pam’s too.”
Trish smiled. She knew Rosa meant every word.
* * *
At the airport gate, Pam waited for Trish, despising the anxiety blossoming in her stomach. She had flown from Chicago to Detroit, where they had agreed to accompany one another to New York City for the trip to Afghanistan by way of Amsterdam, then Dubai. It was going to be a long trip, about twenty hours. Twenty hours in which she was sure Trish would try to coax her to open up about all the things on her mind, about where they stood with one another. Well, what the hell could she say? She had no more light to shed on any of it…not on her search for her own identity nor on the obstacles that stood between them. As far as she was concerned, nothing had changed since the last time they’d seen each other.
Maybe Trish had changed her mind about going, she thought with faint hope. It would be easier if she went alone—no one else to worry about, no one else worrying about her. And yet, she was going to the last place where Laura was alive, the place where she’d spent the last few months of her life. It would be her final connection to Laura, the last chance to say goodbye to her.
She felt guilty for wishing Trish wasn’t coming. Trish had been with her almost every step since she’d found out about Laura’s death, and she knew deep down it would be wrong now to cut her out of the grieving and the reconciling of Laura’s death that was still to be done. They shared a unique bond. And they needed one another, in spite of the complicated mess they’d made of their relationship.
“Hi there.”
Pam looked up even as her heart twisted at the sound of Trish’s voice—the voice that never seemed to leave her consciousness, or her dreams, all these years. Even now, after everything they’d been through together, Trish’s voice was like a warm, welcoming caress. Pam couldn’t imagine her life without Trish in it. Even if they were destined to be nothing more than friends.
“Hi,” Pam replied, hearing the gladness in her own voice.
Trish dropped into the plastic sculpted seat beside her and pulled Pam’s hand into her lap. “If you don’t want me to…”
“No,” Pam said definitively, momentarily stunned by Trish’s uncanny ability to read her mind. “I need you to come with me.”
“I guess we should probably set out some ground rules.”
“Like?”
“Separate rooms or at least separate beds. No pressure, no coming on to one another, nothing physical.”
“No pressure to talk about things if one of us doesn’t want to?”
Trish pressed her lips together, sighed. “Fine. I’ll give you all the emotional space you want, but we have to talk someday, you know.”
Yes, they did. But not now, when things were so confusing, so raw. Pam simply nodded, then sat back and watched the gate area fill up with fellow passengers. She could see their plane outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, its metal cladding gleaming like a shiny nickel. She wished the plane were taking her to Laura and not to where Laura had once been. Moments like these, she still couldn’t believe she would never see her sister again.
“That’s us,” Trish said, tapping Pam’s thigh before rising to her feet.
Pam hadn’t heard the announcement. She was thinking about the first time she’d ever flown. She was six, and it was the summer after her father had been killed while learning to pilot a small plane. Later, she’d been told that learning to fly had been his dream, but living the dream had ended his life in the middle of a cornfield just across the state line in Indiana. Their mother, still grieving over her husband’s death, sent Pam and thirteen-year-old Laura to a cousin’s in Dallas so she could be alone with her grief. On the plane, Pam was afraid that they too were going to die; strapped into her seat she clutched Laura’s arm so hard that she left bruises. Laura was patient with her, reading her storybooks throughout the entire two-hour flight until Pam pretty much forgot they were on a plane. They didn’t talk about her fear or whether Laura carried the same fear. If Laura did, she hid it well, assuming her role as protector and nurturer with fierce determination.
It was astounding, mind-blowing now, to think that Laura too had died in an air crash. As she snugly fastened her seat belt, it occurred to her that she wasn’t so much scared as unwilling to battle fate. If crashing was her destiny too, then so be it.
As the plane sped down the runway, Pam reached for Trish’s hand.
Chapter Seventeen
Laura’s journal held Trish spellbound. It was like reading a great thriller novel, never knowing what was coming next. The writing was so superb, she quickly forgot the journal was about Laura. The Laura she knew and loved. The Laura she fought with so many times about her choice to make the military her life.
During the long flight, she filled Pam in on the parts she’d missed, then asked if she could read out loud.
“Of course,” Pam said. “But will you stop if something is too hard for me?”
“Just say the word.” Trish slipped on her dark-framed reading glasses.
“Before you start, can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“How come reading about Laura’s experiences over there doesn’t upset you?”
“I don’t know. The writing is so good, I forget it’s her. I get lost in her stories. And if I think of it like a novel, maybe the ending will be…you know, different than the real-life ending.”
Pam shot her a wink. “I forgot you’re a wannabe novelist.”
Trish shook her head. “Laura’s stuff is far better than anything I’ve ever written. She’s the one who could have been a bona fide writer. God, it’s gripping stuff. Listen to this:
“It’
s sickening how many schools the Taliban have closed or destroyed, and the ones that remain open are taking a terrible risk. Kidnappings, assassinations, bombs, any assortment of violence and threats of violence. Teachers, students and parents are not spared. Education or any forward progress is the enemy of the Taliban, and they are nothing if not brutal with their enemies.
“There is an Afghan medical clinic within sight of our forward operating base here in Helmand Valley. Three others further away have closed because of violence or threats of violence. The one that remains open manages that rare feat only because it is close to our base. It offers the only medical care for Afghan civilians in the region. When I look at that one-story adobe-style building through my binoculars, I feel a resolve harden around my heart like a plaster cast. The Taliban must go. They do not want to educate their people or provide basic medical care. They are barbarians.
“Yesterday I was manning the clinic at the FOB. Two Afghan children were rushed in (they were too severely injured to be taken to the civilian clinic). They were playing along the road and accidentally set off an IED in a plastic bottle. The one child suffered only minor injuries, but the other, a nine-year-old boy, had his legs turned to hamburger meat and his skin sandblasted by the explosion. He was in terrible shock—his BP bottomed out. All I could do was hydrate him through an IV, swathe his legs in pressure bandages, medicate him with antibiotics and sedatives. I intubated him right before they evacuated him by helicopter to Kandahar. I’ve heard he’s still hanging on, but if he lives, I doubt he’ll ever walk again. What kind of monsters do this to their own people, especially children?”
Trish closed the journal, Laura’s frustration and anger finding a foothold in her own psyche. “Doesn’t it piss you off? I mean, how can those animals do things like that to innocent people?”
“It’s a different world over there, clearly. But living in the middle of all that tragedy, the way Laura was, I can understand why she wanted to stay and do her part to make some kind of a difference. And she was, I think.”
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