Veil of Silence

by K'Anne Meinel

  “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.

  ‘Dear Marsha, we stopped by, but you didn’t answer the door. This is childish. Call us at the Hilton Garden Inn for dinner. Mom,’ the letter read.

  “Oh, God,” Marsha sighed. She was tired. The week of psychological conversation, intel extraction, and the repatriation process was supposed to help her decompress. Instead, she was exhausted and she was sure a lot of it had to do with her pregnancy and not just the mental strain of her situation. “Just what I need,” she sighed. She could already feel herself tensing up, just knowing her mother was in the neighborhood.

  Heather, struggling to carry Amir who was being a wiggle worm, looked at the note and sighed herself. With MaryBeth in the vicinity, it would be like walking around landmines. The slightest pressure and the woman would go off. “Can we ignore it?” she asked hopefully.

  Marsha laughed, a genuine laugh, and leaned her head against her wife’s shoulder. “Let’s try.”

  They weren’t allowed. They had barely gotten in the door, gotten the children settled, fed, and washed, when the doorbell rang. The sound of it had Marsha’s heart racing. She didn’t know why it caused her to do that, but she filed away the reaction as something she might want to tell the psychologists. The sweaty palms and the heart racing were definitely signs of PTSD and she didn’t understand why. She was in the living room playing with the kids and waddled to the door to answer it.

  “Who is it?” she asked through the door as she put her eye to the peephole. She saw her mother looking at the door, exasperated, not liking the fact that she had been kept waiting. It had been a good decision on Marsha and Heather’s part not to provide her parents with a key to their home. She smiled as she saw her father looking patient and eager.

  “Marsha? You open this door this instant,” her mother commanded. Through the peephole her distorted visage was even more intimidating. Marsha wondered how she did that, but she was past being intimidated by her family, much less her mother. She slowly unlocked the door to open it. “Oh, you look terrible,” were the first words out of her mother’s mouth as she looked at Marsha.

  Marsha, who had changed out of he
r uniform into sweats and a t-shirt, was not thrilled to see her mother. Her father, standing behind the woman, just stood there with tears in his eyes.

  “Well, aren’t you going to invite us in?” she asked with a strident voice as she attempted to slip past Marsha.

  “Mom, I told you not to come,” Marsha tried to block her way, holding the door with her left shoulder as her mother tried to open it.

  “Well, I knew that was nonsense as soon as I heard it,” she dismissed. She tried to push on the door and seemed surprised that Marsha didn’t give way.

  “Mom, I told you this was not a good time. I’m still being debriefed by the army and–”

  “Pish posh,” her mother said as she waved away Marsha’s words. “I’m your mother and I’m here to help.”

  “But, Mom, you don’t help, and I would appreciate it if you called and I actually invited you in the future.”

  MaryBeth stood back, surprised at Marsha’s words. For a second she was speechless. “Is there a reason you don’t want to see us? Is something wrong with Hayley? Do you want to explain about that?” She pointed at the belly sticking out prominently between them.

  Marsha sighed, already exasperated by her mother. Closing her eyes for a moment to gather herself so she wouldn’t go off on the woman, she tried to count to ten.

  “What’s wrong? Is the baby coming? Are you all right?”

  Marsha shook her head and Heather put her hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right, babe. I got this,” she said behind her. Heather pulled the door wider just as MaryBeth pushed, causing her to stumble. “Whoops, got you there,” she tried to help the woman who pulled back angrily.

  “Are you still here?” MaryBeth asked nastily.

  “Of course, Mrs. Gagliano. Where else would I be?”

  “Just let me…” she began as she pushed her way into the house, Lawrence following along behind apologetically. She stopped as she saw the children in the living room.

  “Grandma!” Hayley shouted delightedly and came running for hugs and kisses, which the woman bestowed on her willingly.

  “Hayley, my girl! My precious little girl,” she gushed nauseatingly.

  Marsha started to grind her teeth as her mother’s tone set them on edge.

  “Hey, cupcake,” Lawrence leaned in to give Marsha a sideways hug.

  “Hey, Daddy,” she sighed as the one parent she did like touched her.

  “And who is this?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling in pleasure as he hugged Hayley.

  MaryBeth would have taken all the hugs and kisses, but the little girl squirmed out of her embrace to hug her grandfather. As MaryBeth straightened up, she saw two more children in the living room. It was obvious they were somehow related as she saw Marsha in both of them. Her startled glance took in the children and the mess they had created, then looked back accusingly first at Heather, and then at her own daughter. “Who are they? Have you taken in strays? It’s not like you can afford to do that. Are they the father’s children? I really think you should rethink this before you adopt them.”

  Marsha stiffened up even more from the bombardment. “Mom, they are my children and not ‘the father’s,’” she made quotation marks with her fingers. “Heather and I are going to raise them together.”

  Heather smiled and put her arm around the proud and now stiff Marsha, showing unity.

  “I really don’t understand why you didn’t call us sooner. It’s obvious something needs to be done here. I mean, look at this place…” she went on and on, gesturing with her hands, but both Heather and Marsha had stopped listening. With three young children, the formerly clean living room was now a mess. The two moms would clean it up again once the children were asleep, but until then it would be pointless.

  “Dad,” Marsha started, turning away from her mother’s incessant prattling. “You two can only stay this evening. I don’t have the time for this and I am still being debriefed.” She smiled as he nodded, his eyes still full of tears at seeing his precious daughter alive.

  “When are you due?” he asked pointedly, looking at the bulge of her stomach and thinking how ghastly the clothes looked on her.

  “Any day,” she smiled, her hand going automatically to the roundness and petting it for good luck.

  “I think you have something to tell us?” his eyebrow raised at the two other children and he smiled.

  “Not only that young lady, but you…” her mother interjected and prattled on.

  “MaryBeth, if you would let someone get a word in edgewise, perhaps Marsha and Heather could explain about our latest grandchildren,” Lawrence grumbled forcefully.

  “Don’t you take that tone with me! I’ll have you know….”

  “Mom,” Marsha tried, but was ignored. “Mother...” she tried again. When that didn’t work she finally shouted, “SHUT UP ALREADY!”

  Shocked, MaryBeth was quiet for all of five seconds. They could all see the steam rising as she prepared to lambaste her daughter.

  “If you want to know about me, about our children, then you are going to have to remain quiet. If you can’t, you can leave now,” Marsha threatened, grabbing the door and holding it.

  MaryBeth was furious. People who interrupted were rude. She couldn’t understand that people didn’t want to hear her opinions. After all, she knew…. She realized that her daughter was serious. Without answering, she marched to the couch to sit down, removing some child’s toy. She picked it up with her two fingers, eyeing it distastefully for germs. Bahir and Amir stared at the intruder and looked up at Heather and Marsha. Hayley, ignoring the nastiness, resumed playing and soon the other two joined her.

  “Come on, Dad. I have some people to introduce you to,” Marsha said cajolingly.

  “You certainly do,” he said with a smile. ‘The understatement of the year,’ he thought as he embraced her again, thrilled to see her alive and healthy. The two children watching them looked a lot like her with her big brown eyes and he was smiling as he turned to walk with his daughter towards them.

  “Bahir,” she indicated the little girl, “and Amir,” she indicated the little boy, “are my children that I had while in captivity.”

  MaryBeth went to open her mouth, saw the warning look from both her daughter and husband, and closed it with an audible snap.

  “They’re beautiful,” Lawrence said and continued to smile at them, not wishing to frighten them. “Do they speak English?”

  “Yes, Daddy, they do; however, they aren’t used to you yet, so I don’t know if they’ll come to you.” She turned to the children that were still staring. “This is my dad, my papa, and this,” she indicated MaryBeth who sat there with a disapproving stare, “is my mom, my moray,” she explained. Both children looked from the big, bluff man who smiled at them, to the disapproving woman who sat on the couch staring at them.

  “Anyway, Dad, sit down,” Marsha invited, her arm still around Heather who indicated that she should sit first. Heather sat on the arm of the couch as the adults watched the children. Bahir and Amir returned to play with Hayley. They were playing with Legos and seemed very intent on building. The children were fascinated with the little bricks.

  “Why didn’t you answer my note,” MaryBeth finally found her voice to ask accusingly.

  “Mom, I told you I’ve been busy. I was being debriefed by the SERE and….”

  “I’m sure the army can make time for your parents!” she assured Marsha with a knowledgeable tone.

  “No, they can’t. I have to give them information they desperately need. It may be crucial to them over there, I don’t know, but my duty is first and foremost to the army.”

  “I don’t know why. They haven’t been very helpful to your father and I. They didn’t even inform us you were alive. Why, when I think of–”

  “Mom, this is a very delicate situation. I was held for five years. You see three of the results of that,” she indicated the two children playing intently and then rubbed her stomach. The baby was acting up again,
sensing her unease and upset. “They aren’t about to march over and inform you that I’m alive after the way you broadcast my disappearance all over TV.”

  “When I think of how helpful those poor reporters were,” she began again, not deterred by Marsha’s interruption.

  “Helpful? You may have jeopardized my safety over there. Fortunately, I was held by people who didn’t have televisions.” She stopped herself from revealing too much.

  “Held? I’d say you had a very good time of it over there,” she indicated the children. “I don’t see why it was all such a big secret…”

  “Mom, don’t you get it?” Marsha was suddenly angry at her mother’s dismissive attitude. “I was raped. I was continually assaulted every time I tried to escape. They took delight in hurting me. Getting me pregnant was a bonus.”

  Heather put her arm around Marsha and squeezed her shoulder in warning. Getting upset wasn’t good for the baby or for Marsha. She also knew that providing MaryBeth with too much information would be detrimental to anything that Marsha might accomplish.

  Marsha realized what Heather was communicating with the squeeze and got hold of herself. “I was not over there for pleasure. My helicopter went down. It was not by choice,” she assured her mother and looked at her father who looked shocked at what she had revealed.

  “I’ll have you know that nice reporter from Channel 9 News will be delighted to hear…” she began, thrilled to have some gossip to share on the news, certain she would be the center of attention once again. She’d been delighted by the attention they had gotten over their daughter’s disappearance and relished the fame among their friends at all the interviews they gave.