The Colonel Came Home With Her Chapter 04
Three days later, my brother came back.
I knew something was wrong the second he walked through my apartment door.
He was walking with his head down, shoulders caved forward, defeated.
He came into the living room, dropped into a chair, picked up a mug and chugged half a glass of water, and then he didn’t say a word.
I sent Sam out to play in the yard and sat down across from him.
“What did you find? Whose is the baby.”
Jake set the mug on the table.
“I found out.”
“Whose. Tell me.”
He raised his eyes to mine.
My heart jumped.
“Nor… can we just — say it’s Ethan’s? Would that be okay?”
The mug in my hand hit the floor.
I stared at him in disbelief.
Water splashed everywhere; the mug bounced twice on the hardwood and rolled to the corner.
Jake scratched his head, avoiding my eyes.
“What is that supposed to mean.”
Jake sighed.
“Ethan didn’t do anything wrong. Take my word for it on this one. Let it go.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong? He brought home a pregnant woman and you’re telling me he didn’t do anything wrong?”
Jake didn’t answer.
He just sat there and let me yell, waiting for me to burn myself out.
That afternoon my parents drove down from Millbrook, a full day on the road.
My father walked in, saw Ethan standing under the porch, and slapped him across the face without breaking stride.
Ethan didn’t flinch. Five red streaks bloomed on his cheek, his head jerking to the side and coming back.
“Dad.”
“Don’t call me Dad.”
My mother pushed my father and Ethan into the back room and shut the door.
The windows were closed. I couldn’t make out what was being said, but I could hear my dad’s voice rising and falling, and then my mother’s, holding him down.
After a long while the door opened. My mother came out first, her eyes red.
She walked over and sat on the edge of my bed, took my hand.
“Listen to your mother. Let this go. If not for yourself, then for the boy.”
Something inside my head buzzed.
She went in that back room, and she came out different.
She hadn’t even asked me what had happened. She was just telling me to let it go.
“Let it go? You didn’t even ask me what’s going on and you’re telling me to let it go?”
She squeezed my hand tight.
“Because letting it go is best for everyone. Especially you.”
I looked at her.
She didn’t look away, and her eyes were steady.
I glanced at my father. He was standing in the doorway with his back to me, his shoulders shaking.
“If none of you will tell me, I’ll find out myself. I don’t believe there’s no way to—”
“Enough.”
My mother pressed my hand down against the bed.
“Stop looking.”
That night, they all left.
Ethan stood in the yard.
I didn’t open the door for him.
I held Sam and cried for a long time, my tears wetting the back of his little neck.
Sam twisted around to look at me.
He was four. He held out his sleeve and wiped at my face, first the left cheek, then the right.
“Mama.”
“Mm.”
“Let’s leave together.”
I looked down at him.
“It’s not happy here,” he said. “Mama isn’t happy here.”
I pressed his little face against my chest.
That night I packed a duffel bag.
The side gate to the housing area had one MP on duty, and he was dozing, his head bobbing. I walked up carrying Sam, flashed my dependent ID.
He didn’t even lift his eyelids. He waved us through.
The night wind slid down into my collar, and I shivered.
Sam poked his head out of my arms.
“Mama, where are we going?”
“Away from Fort Bragg first. Then Mama’s going to find a job.”
The next morning, Lily got up as usual and made breakfast.
Ethan walked to my bedroom door and knocked twice.
“Honey, breakfast.”
No answer.
He knocked again.
“Honey?”
Silence.
Unease crept over his face.
He pushed the door. It swung open.
The bed was cold. Like it hadn’t been slept in at all.
The closet door hung open, half empty. Only his clothes still swayed on their hangers.
Ethan stood in the middle of the room, eyes wide with panic.
That was the moment it hit him: I had taken our son and gone.