Chapter 4
Gabriella
Rolling a few inches away from my metal desk and tilting back the cushy black desk chair, I fake surprise and look at the leather-banded watch on my wrist, “Wow, is it that late?” I know what time it is.
She knows I know what time it is, as evidenced by her one raised platinum eyebrow that slightly touches her matching platinum bangs.
I’m delaying going home as long as I can, not that that’s helpful to anyone in my home situation.
“I just have a couple more things to go over, then I’ll head out. I promise.”
“Gabriella Scott! You can finish those things tomorrow. Go home to your family. Torn fabric doesn’t mend itself, you know.
” She gives me another quick twitch of her eyebrow.
After about a minute of waiting for a response, she clicks her tongue, releases a small smile, and sing-songs, “Goodnight, Gabbs. See you tomorrow.”
I mirror her small smile, “Goodnight, Patty.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m walking out of the building, across the dark parking lot to my car, with my designated escort, of course.
“You doin’ okay, Gabbi?” Duncan, one of the facility’s security guards, snaps my attention away from my phone, and I look over at him as he continues to walk me to my car.
Ever since one of the social workers was assaulted last year, none of the employees can walk to their vehicles by themselves after dark.
“Yeah, sorry. I just got this text message today that I’m not sure I want to answer.” I’m not sure why I’m explaining this to him. Duncan and I have gotten to know each other pretty well over the last couple of years I’ve been working here, but not like personal-problems-close.
“Is it something bad?” He asks, genuine care lacing his voice.
“I’m not sure. It doesn’t seem so.” I stare back at my phone. “It’s from an old friend. She wants to talk.”
“Well, the way I see it, if it’s an old friend, what could it hurt?” Duncan’s big shoulders shrug, and his bright green eyes crinkle at the edges. I remain silent as we reach my car. “Have a good night, Gabbi.” With a pat on my shoulder, he turns and leaves to head to his own car.
As I fall into my driver’s seat, I continue to stare at the text message. Emma Harris is the wife of one of Vic’s team members from the Army. We all lived in the same neighborhood on base housing while they were all active duty.
All five team members are now retired from the Army, have their own lives, and are spread across the East Coast. The closest one is Tyson Harris, otherwise known as Big Dawg, his wife of 15 years, Emma, and their son, Trip.
We all lived in that neighborhood for ten years together, well, I was there for seven before physically putting distance between me and Vic a few years ago.
When Vic was looking at retiring, we decided that I would move with the girls to a place where we were going to ‘retire to’, before Kerri started high school. It was for stability we said, but really, our marriage was unravelling even then.
I haven’t really talked with Emma since before Vic retired. She told me to call her if I wanted to talk about Vic’s transition out of the Army, but I just couldn’t. I mean, she and Ty are so great together and so strong, I guess I’m just embarrassed by where Vic and I are.
I re-read the message:
Emma: Hey, lady! Long time no chat. Give me a call when you have time. I have something I want to talk to you about.
Well, that’s not ominous at all. What could she possibly have to talk to me about?
Did Vic call her? God, did Vic talk to Ty?
Shit, I can’t call her. What am I gonna say?
Hi Emma, how are you and your perfect family?
Oh, that’s great. Oh, us? Yeah, we’re a hot mess express.
Our girls are sassy AF, I forgot what my husband’s penis looks like, I’m looking frumpier by the day, and we are about 3 seconds from a divorce.
I nod once to myself. Sounds like a productive conversation.
I sit in my car, not moving from my parking spot, with my head in my hands, then I hear Duncan’s words in my head, What could it hurt? I guess…fuck it. “Hey Siri, call Emma Harris.”