Part 22 (1/2)
I looked around the office. I had seen Bud Tanner in a hooch in Afghanistan and a room in a stateside hospital mental ward, but this was the first time I had seen him in his own element. The office was larger than most I had seen in the Corps. In addition to the desk and chair, he had a credenza, a bookcase, and a couple of chairs for visitors facing the desk. The walls were made of painted concrete blocks. He had one window, which opened toward the parking lot, and beyond that a complex of low buildings, including Capodanno Chapel, where the chaplain led wors.h.i.+p services three times a week. Near the chapel I could see another building where marines were trained with computer-simulated weapons to kill the enemy. Eternal life and sudden death stood side by side. I supposed it was the way of things.
At the other end of the room were a sofa and two occasional chairs, all upholstered in stiff-green vinyl. In front of them stood a low coffee table with a Formica wood-grain top. On each end of the sofa were two other small tables. A Bible and a box of facial tissues sat on one of the smaller tables. A pitcher of water and three gla.s.ses sat on the other. Tanner waved a hand toward the sofa and chairs, and we sat down across from each other.
He said, ”How you been?”
”Pretty good.”
”Doesn't look like it.” He indicated the st.i.tches on my forehead.
”I got into a little more trouble.”
”Something to do with what happened before?”
”I don't know. Maybe.”
He leaned back and crossed his right leg over his knee. ”Tell me.”
I began at the beginning, with Valentin Vega and Fidel Castro and their story about wanting to clear the URNG. I told him about the friction with Castro, and the encounter at Crystal Cove with the two guys in the black Suburban. I described my meeting with Dona Elena and Congressman Montes, and I told him about the file Olivia Soto brought over the following day. I mentioned all the calls I'd made and the interviews I'd conducted in search of Alejandra Delarosa, at the apartment building and benevolence society in Pico-Union, the travel agency, the church, and the landlord's office, and the beating on the sidewalk in front of the cafe. Then I told him about my trip into the mountains and the attack. He listened to it all without asking any questions until I got to the attack.
He said, ”There were only two of them?”
”That's right.”
”And you had a sidearm?”
”I, uh... I actually left it in the vehicle.”
Tanner stared at me a moment, and then he said, ”I'm beginning to understand why we're having this conversation.”
I had nothing to say.
He said, ”Did you want them to kill you?”
I continued to be silent.
He uncrossed his leg, put his other boot on the ground, and leaned toward me. ”You should have killed those guys, Gunny. No question. No contest. But you let them flank you and put three rounds in your vest. Why is that?”
I stood and went to stare out the window. The color of the hills had begun to change to golden hues. From my time at Pendleton, I recognized the effect of a Pacific sunset. ”I'm not thinking straight, Bud. I haven't been since the thing with Miss Lane.”
”How do you feel about the fact that those guys didn't kill you? Disappointed?”
I stood there and said nothing.
”Are you drinking much these days?”
”A little.”
”Did you drink last night?”
”A little.”
”And earlier today?”
”I need it to stay calm.”
”What do you want from me, Gunny?”
I turned to face him. ”I don't know. Advice. Therapy. Something I can use.”
”I've already told you everything I know.”
”It's not working.”
”Really? So G.o.d isn't getting the job done for you?”
”I'm talking about that thing you said in the hospital.” I closed my eyes, shutting off the view of glowing hillsides. I spoke the Bible verse he'd taught me. Whatever is true, whatever is excellent... think about such things.
He said, ”Solid advice in every circ.u.mstance. What about it?”
”It helped a lot at first, but it's not working anymore. I keep thinking it and saying it, but everything is getting worse.”
”It's not a magic incantation. I'm not a wizard, and G.o.d's not a genie. You don't just say the words, and everything gets better.”
”Lighten up a little, Bud. I'm just looking for some help.”
”I'm sorry. Have a seat, will you? It hurts my neck to sit here looking up at you.”
I went back to the chair across from him and sat.
”Okay,” he said, ”what is it you want to do?”
The thing I wanted was impossible-Haley back, everything the way it was before-so I didn't bother to answer his question. Instead I said, ”You say I'm supposed to think about what's true, but how am I supposed to do that when the truth keeps changing all the time?”
”Well, I'm pretty sure you're mistaken there. The truth never changes.”
”Miss Lane was here. That was true. Then I let somebody kill her. Now she's not here, so it's not true anymore.”
”You're talking about a truth. I'm talking about truth. Listen, this is important. You're talking about rain. I'm talking about water. You're talking about wind. I'm talking about air. Do you understand?”
”No.”
”It's about faith, Malcolm. You have to have a little faith that this world isn't everything or all that matters. That there's a plan at work beyond our understanding. That's what makes things true in the final, absolute, unchanging sense. Like air exists even though the wind isn't blowing to prove it. Like water exists whether there's rain falling or not.”
I was shaking my head. ”I have to have something real. You don't need to tell me this world isn't everything. I know that. I've been outside this world. It nearly killed me. And the only thing that saved me was knowing there was something back here in the real world. Not pie in the sky. Something I could see and touch, something actually there, outside of me. I just need you to help me focus on that kind of truth so I won't go back to being crazy.”
”You say you knew there was something real. You mean you knew that while you were still lost in the delusions?”