Those deep cuts on her wrists.
“There was blood in the water and on the floor. There was no pulse when I felt her throat. She was ice-cold when I touched her. I’d say she’s been dead for quite some time, probably even before Joe, Jr. came home on the bus. He might not even have noticed anything until he needed to go to the bathroom.”
I say these words without even knowing if I’m right. Where did all this come from? Am I just guessing?
The investigator nods and takes notes on his pad.
“So, it was suicide; I take it?” I ask cautiously. I saw the cuts; I feel confident in what I have seen. Yet somehow, I still want to be reassured.
He nods again. “Looks like it.”
“I guess you get that a lot?”
He sighs and sends me a warm smile. It doesn’t feel comforting; on the contrary, it gets a little creepy. Maybe it’s just the situation. Everything about it makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Those dead eyes.
I shake my head. I can’t keep thinking about them, or about the rest of her in that water, that blood-filled water. I have to focus on where I am right now, talking to the police.
“It happens,” he says. “It can be tough coming back, you know?”
I swallow, thinking about Ryan. The words linger in my head for a long time, and I don’t really hear what he says next. It happens. It can be rough getting back. This is my greatest fear. This is exactly what I worry about every waking hour of my day—that the love of my life will give up. That he’ll decide it’s not worth the fight anymore. If only he’d let me help him…if only he’d talk to me and tell me what was going on. If only he’d seek help.
I nod, looking at the kids playing behind me. Joe, Jr. seems oddly oblivious to the fact that his life has just been changed forever.
“I know.”
“All right, Mrs. Davis,” he says, closing his notepad. “Can the boy stay here till we get ahold of his father?”
I nod. “Of course.”
Suddenly, my heart bleeds for Joe. This is going to kill him. Sandra and Joe are divorced, and Joe lives off base now. He had an affair while she was deployed, and they split up right after she came home. But they were good at sharing the kid, and the divorce seemed decent. It wasn’t brutal, as far as I know.
How do you tell your child that his mother is dead? How would I ever tell my children if Ryan wasn’t here anymore?
I sit down as the Special Investigations Officer leaves us, but I don’t stay seated for long. My hands are trembling, and I am a mess. I get back up, then walk to the cabinet, grab Ryan’s scotch, and pour myself one. I drink it all in one gulp, trying to subdue all my emotions and force away all my fears while the boys continue their play.
I stifle my tears while secretly praying this won’t happen to my children. I don’t know how any of us would be able to live on after a thing like this. Yet, I still prepare myself mentally for it, for the fact that this could be Ryan.
Maybe not today, but one day.
Chapter 5
Two days later, we have a barbecue at the Colonel’s house. I sit with the wives and one husband in the patio chairs, as usual. I glance toward the soldiers from Ryan’s unit who are standing by the grill, all in civil clothing, which is rare to see, each with their beer in hand. I am hoping Ryan will show up, at least to hang out with his war buddies, but I don’t know if he will. He hasn’t called or contacted me since he was in our kitchen a couple of days ago.
I find it absurd for them to have a barbecue only two days after one of their own killed herself. Sandra isn’t even buried yet, and still, they insist on making burgers and eating hotdogs. They don’t mention her at all, at least the spouses don’t. I don’t know what the others are talking about. I wonder if it is because they’re terrified like me. Maybe they’re scared to talk about suicide and PTSD—because talking about it brings forth the fear, makes it real somehow. I wonder what Joe is doing tonight. And Joe, Jr.? Is he all right? Have any of them even stopped by to check on them? Make sure they’re okay?
I kind of want to bring it up in the conversation because I’m scared of Ryan hurting himself, but I don’t dare to. They’re talking about school right now and the new principal that no one likes. It seems like a safe topic. No one can get upset, or maybe everyone is upset about it, but they’re allowed to be. The guy is an idiot who has made the rules for absences even tighter. If you’re late by even just a minute, you’ll get detention. A lot of moms are complaining about that. I’m not. My kids ride the bus. They’re always there on time. Besides, I can’t worry about something like that. To be honest, I wish that was all I had to be concerned about. But it’s not. I doubt it is for the other spouses, either.
The food is done, and the kids are getting burgers and hotdogs first. Spouses next. We eat, and I compliment the salad that Lisa McCandless, who we usually call Lotty, has created. She is the wife of the squadron commander, Colonel Chip McCandless, and they’re the hosts today. It is a really good salad and has cranberries in it, along with some type of seed that tastes good. And kale, of course, but I am not that fond of kale. Not like everyone else these days.
Still, no Ryan.
Is he even coming? I know he has been invited. The guys love him, and I know they see each other, even though he is on leave due to his injury. They probably mostly meet up at the bar outside of the base. But I am certain he knows we’re all here.
So, why isn’t he here? Is he just staying away because he knows I’ll be here?
Vera sits next to me, eating a hotdog with extra ketchup. She hasn’t taken any of the salad. She’s no one’s wife, but her sister was in the unit as well, deployed with the rest of them. She came home in a casket before everyone else. According to what the Air Force has informed Vera, her sister, Clarice, was killed after leaving her duty station. Initially, her family was informed that Clarice was killed in action from “hostile enemy fire.” The Air Force later revised its statement, saying that she had died in a “non-combat-related incident.” The family believed it was a case of “friendly fire,” but then the Air Force later ruled her death a suicide. What was clear was that she was found dead of a single gunshot wound to the head, near a chapel, inside the secure airbase. Vera, who is also enlisted and lives on base, is a close friend of mine. But since she received the news of her sister, she hasn’t been the same. She has grown this spite, this resentment toward the Air Force that I never saw in her earlier. She only stays because she has a contract, she tells me. I’m not opposed to her resentment, as I feel it growing in myself as well. I’m not happy to admit it since the Air Force has been our entire lives so far, ever since I married Ryan. But I don’t like what being deployed does to our loved ones. I don’t say it out loud, of course. Not like Vera, who airs her resentment publicly any chance she gets.
“So, when are you going to let Ryan come back home?” Lotty suddenly says. The question catches me completely off-guard, and I stare at her in confusion. I look for an answer, something clever to say, but there’s nothing ready.
“I…I…he’s the one who left,” I say. “I didn’t throw him out.”