Authors: Susan I. Spieth
Jan wondered what she would be like
if her own father had died.
She
couldn’t imagine that event inspiring her outlook or destiny.
The last thing she could imagine coming
from it was a vision, a plan, or a dream for anything.
Her father's death, any death in the
family, could only be a bad, bad thing.
Something so awful could not possibly produce an assurance, a confidence
in something else.
It just made
zero sense.
And honestly, if finding answers comes only after a death, then I prefer
to just stay in the dark, thank you very much.
“What about you, Jan?”
Kristi asked.
“Will you stay at West Point?”
“Probably not.”
“Why?
You seem to be doing really well.”
“Well, for one, I hate it.
I hate the way we're treated, yelled at
and made fun of all the time.
Two,
I hate math, science and history.
I
practically failed history.
The
only course I like is English which everyone else seems to hate—so that
tells me there's a disconnect somewhere.”
“And three,” Jan said, as she hunched
over the steering wheel, “I hate the outfits.
They don't do anything for my
figure.”
Kristi looked at her friend
negotiating the car through the snowfall and started laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
Then Jan began giggling, too, which
slowly grew into one of those rare, gut busting, tear producing, uncontrollable
laughing fits.
She pulled the car
onto the shoulder of the road with squinting eyes full of laughing tears.
The roadside ruckus finally subsided,
and for the rest of the snowy drive, they talked about SKIP’s possible
identity, Drew’s virtues, Dogety’s vices and Jan’s boyfriend/best friend
event.
When Jan explained the Tim and Regan
“incident,” Kristi’s reaction was nothing less than visceral.
“How could they do that to you?
And why would Regan even tell you?
WHAT did that bitch hope to gain by
telling you, JAN?
Think about
it!
What was the point in telling
you?”
Jan hadn't thought about
that.
“If I did something like
that, and I really cared about you, I would never tell you.
I mean, what good would it do?
The deed was done
,
it couldn't be undone
.
But it could have been left in the
closet where it belongs!”
They decided to go to the biggest New
Year’s Eve party in town.
Tim’s
parents, with four notorious, party-animal sons, allowed alcohol and loud music
every year at their home.
The local
teen band played from the large back porch overlooking a field.
A huge bonfire had been lit in the
center of the field.
Smaller fires
in fifty-five gallon drums stood at various intervals between the house and the
bonfire along with a couple fire pits on the porch.
It was party heaven—New
Hampshire style.
An unwritten
rule of small towns applied: as long as nothing got out of hand, the police and
fire department would keep a professional distance.
Maybe Kissy’s right about Regan.
Jan stood next to Kristi by the bonfire
drinking beer wondering if she would ever know anything for certain.
But this was not a night for
contemplation, she decided.
You shouldn’t think too much on New Year's
Eve.
In that effort, she
mindlessly chatted with a few high school acquaintances before Regan arrived at
the bonfire, standing beside Jan.
The old best friends hugged.
“Regan, this is Kristi, my friend from West Point.”
“Oh, hey, nice to meet you!” Regan
turned to Kristi.
“What's your name again?” Kristi
asked.
“Regan.
I'm Jan's best friend.”
“Not anymore,” Kristi said with a
chuckle.
Jan elbowed her.
“Actually, Jan and I go back a long
way, don't we Jan?”
Regan looked at
Jan, seemingly for reassurance.
“Yes, we do.
We’ve had a lot of fun over the
years!”
Jan admitted.
“Until recently,” Kristi said under
her breath.
Jan changed the subject and hoped
Kristi would not make any more cutting comments.
Tonight was not the time to bring it all
back up.
Better let those sleeping dogs lie under the porch or however the
saying goes.
Three port-a-potties lined the
perimeter of the field, seeming to hold the line of woods from advancing.
At least four people waited to use each
one.
“Dang, I can't hold it much longer,”
Kristi announced loudly.
“Well, get in line like the rest of
us,
”
a
waiting
woman said.
“Kissy,” whispered Jan, “We don't
need pot-a parties.”
“Oh, right,” said Kristi, “We have
quads of iron!”
“Ab-so-shits-a-lutely.”
Drinking brought out more swearing than
normal.
They walked past the
port-a-potties and into the woods until they couldn’t see the line of
people.
They unbuckled, unzipped
and pulled down their pants.
Only
when their asses were hanging out in sub-freezing temperatures did they
discover the flaw in their plan.
“Shit!
It's cold!”
Kristi exclaimed.
“And we don't have any TP!”
This realization set off another round
of laughter.
They finished peeing
but couldn’t stand up.
From a
squat, with their
asses
in the wind, they continued to
howl.
Jan fell over sideways.
Then Kristi followed.
Both in fetal positions, laughing so
hard they could barely breathe.
They should have stayed at Tim’s
house all night, but they were young and stupid, so Jan drove home.
Fortunately, they made it back without
incident and went to bed sometime after three in the morning.
Jan heard the ringing Cadet Chapel
bells.
Damn bells.
Somewhere
in the transition from asleep to awake, she realized the West Point bells,
though loud, could not possibly be heard in New Hampshire.
But something kept ringing.
Her clock said it was two-thirty in
the afternoon.
Jan rolled over,
hoping to go back to sleep, when her mother softly knocked on the bedroom door.
“Jan, it's for you,” she whispered.
“Who is it?” asked Jan.
“I don't know.
Do you want me to ask them to call
back?”
“No, it’s fine; I’ll take it.”
Jan mumbled as she dragged herself to
the receiver.
The only phone in the
house was mounted on the wall separating her bedroom from the kitchen, its long
cord stretching into Jan’s room.
While Kristi kept sleeping, Jan took the phone from her mom, closed the
door and slid down to the floor.
She took a deep breath, trying to stop the spinning in her head.
“Hello,” she said groggily.
“Jan?”
“Yeah.”
“Jan, it's Debra Plowden.”
“Oh...oh, hey, Debra.”
She tried to sound awake, alert,
alive
.
“Are you okay?
You sound a little sick.”
Jan cleared her throat, “No, no, I
just...”
THINK!
“I just had a big New Year's Eve.”
“Oh, you're hung over then.”
Well,
yes actually….
“Um, I probably had a little too much,”
Jan
admitted.
“Okay, well, I can call back later...
”
Debra offered.
“No, it’s fine, Debra, really.
Why are you calling?
Everything okay?”
Jan and Debra were not exactly close.
“Well, I wanted to tell you
personally that I am not returning to West Point.”
That woke Jan up.
“What?
Why not?”
“I think you know why, Jan.”
Debra paused.
“I haven’t been the same since
Army/Navy.
You’ve probably
noticed.”
Jan felt a little guilty for not
noticing.
“I thought you were doing
well.”
“Well, I’m not.
And I can’t go back there and live in
fear anymore.”
It occurred to Jan that while they
all lived in some fear of getting in trouble or failing a course, Debra had
been dealing with a much deeper level of fear.
“Oh Debra, I’m so sorry this happened.
But I still think if we talked to
Captain Spanner…
”
Captain Spanner was H-3’s Tactical Officer (TAC).
TACs were assigned to each company for
supervising, disciplining and mentoring the cadets.
“No, Jan, I don’t want to involve the
TAC or anyone else.”
What
else can we do, then?
Jan
paused before speaking again.
“Debra,
do you remember anything else about that night?
Anything
that might help us know who did this?”
“I’ve tried to,” Debra sighed.
“It was such a…a…I don’t know.
I didn’t see his face
,
I didn’t hear him speak
.
I really couldn’t tell you anything
about him.”
They both fell silent for a
moment.
Then Debra spoke again,
softly, “You might think this is really weird but the only thing I remember is
a giant bird.
A huge condor or
something, with its wings spread out, as if it was going to devour me.
I’ve even had a couple of nightmares
about Pterodactyls.”
Jan couldn’t think of anything to say
to that.
The thing that popped into
her mind would not have been appropriate.
You were raped
by Big Bird
?
Debra went on, “I know you must think
I’m crazy.
Maybe I am.
But that’s all I remember.
A giant bird with its wings spread as if
it was in flight.”
Jan didn’t know anything about trauma
but she thought the bird image might be less scary than the real thing.
Maybe the brain makes up something to
protect itself if the actual thing is worse.
“You’re not crazy, Debra.
Who knows how your mind processes
something like that?
And you were
drugged or drunk or something.
I
guess we’ll never really know.”
“Yeah,” Debra said, “it could just be
my way of coping with something I couldn’t control.
I guess I’ll be wondering what really
happened for the rest of my life.”
Jan hoped she might remember
something before then.
“Debra, if
you
do
remember anything, I hope
you’ll let us know.
We need to get
this guy before he strikes again.”
“If I remember something, I will tell
you.
But I’m done with everything
and anything to do with West Point.”
Jan fell silent again.
She had moments when she hated the
place, too, but probably nothing like the way Debra did.
“Jan, I just wanted you to know that
I won’t be coming back.
Not ever.”
Jan wished Debra would be more
willing to find out who did this to her.
But there was no way she could or would drag her into something she
clearly opposed.
“Okay, Debra, I
understand.
I can’t blame you for
wanting to leave.
Hell, I want to
leave most times and I didn’t…
”
Jan realized she was about to
step in it.
“Exactly,” Debra let her off the
hook.
“Well, is there anything I can do to
help you?
Is there anything you
need me to do when I get back?”
“No, thanks.
I’ve already notified the official
channels of my decision.
They will
send my personal
stuff which
isn’t much.
I’m applying to our local college.
I hope to move on to a normal, happy
life.”
Jan suddenly felt very sad for
Debra.
“I know you will.”
“Thanks, Jan.
Say hello to Kristi and Angel.
I really hope you guys make it.”