I had not seen Sean Logan since he told me how he felt about Bob Sullivan. How he, too, believed that Bob had raped Jenny and how he had come to view him with the same hatred he held for the enemies in Iraq. Bob was the terrorist. Jenny was Valancia, the rookie he was supposed to protect. He had been so very frustrated by our lack of progress. We were stuck at that red door, and he needed to know—did he cause the death of his colleague, the man in his care? That torment was now directed at Bob Sullivan.
I see it now. How I had taken that rage and placed it on another man, another situation that I could do over again. I couldn’t protect Valancia. But I could protect Jenny. I had been feeling better. You remember, how I was able to feel love for my child because of the power I had to help Jenny? You made me understand that. But that power, it was ignited by the thing with Sullivan. The thought had been building in me for days. This power had exploded. I didn’t come to our sessions, because I knew you would see it in my eyes and try to stop me. The only thing I wanted to stop was the agony—Jenny’s and mine. One way or another, it had to stop. I loaded my gun. I left a note for my wife in the bottom of a drawer. I figured she would find it eventually, but not that night. I spent the day looking for him, following him, until it was dark. I watched the showroom for hours, waiting.
Tom stopped his car a few blocks from the showroom.
My heart was beating wildly. I thought it would burst—or it would bust out of my chest. I was hyperventilating. Air was coming in, but I couldn’t feel it. I was suffocating on my own breath. Thoughts were jumping out at me. Do it! Voices screaming. Images of my baby girl in those woods. Images of Bob fucking that young girl on the car. Everything was melding together. But I didn’t move. I heard my parents talking about me. My wife chiming right along. “He won’t do it. He doesn’t have the courage.… Not everyone can be a soldier.… We all have to accept our limitations.…”
Sean watched the client leave. When his car was out of sight, the headlights fading away, Sean got out of the car, released the safety on the gun, and began walking with conviction toward the showroom.
I had the first vision when my feet hit the ground. It was clear as day. That street. An old man with a pipe. Three kids with a ball, still now as they stare at me. The street is frozen. No one moves. No one runs. I saw them. And not just from the things you read to me. I saw new things, different things from that day. From that street with the red door. I stopped walking and shook it off. I looked at the lights in the showroom. I made my plan for an ambush. I saw a way in. A door on the side that was cocked open. Maybe from a mechanic earlier. I focused on the mission.
Sean was having a recall. The emotions, the gun in his hand, the focus on the mission, the intent to kill—these were the things we could not simulate in our sessions. And now that they had arisen, they were leading him back to the memories from that day, that last mission.
As Sean continued to walk, Tom tried to drive. He put the car in gear and pulled back onto the street. He made it another block, then stopped again.
I can’t describe the anger I felt then. Hearing my parents disparaging me. Calling me a coward because I was freezing up. I was about to kill a man! I think that is worthy of some trepidation, some consideration. I would be leaving my children. There would be no source of income. They would be fatherless. And for what? Jenny would still be a victim. Killing her attacker would not change that. She would still be without her memory and her ability to heal. Killing Sullivan would not bring them back. And then I considered the justice I had been so obsessed with. The stories of other victims and how justice had helped them heal. And how Jenny would never have justice any other way. We had taken that from her. I stared at the dashboard and calmed my nerves.
Sean walked, step by step, toward the open door. And as he did, the memories, little flashes, kept coming.
I thought I was losing my mind. I couldn’t focus on the mission. I had to keep stopping, shaking off the flashes like little gnats. I would not fail this time. I lifted a foot, moved it, placed it back on the ground. There was Valancia suddenly in front of me where my foot was. I took another step and looked behind, but he wasn’t there, he was in front, he had moved ahead of me! I saw Sullivan’s shadow through the window. I picked up the other foot and dragged it forward. “What the fuck, man!” Those were my words. “It’s no good. It’s no good!” My words! Valancia had pushed ahead of me. He had tears streaming down his face, carving through the dust on his skin. It was fear. He had been so ravaged by fear. Fuck! He was gonna do it! “I’m not afraid!” I think that’s what he said! That’s what I remembered as I was walking to kill Bob Sullivan! I remembered!
A car drove wildly past Tom as he sat parked on the side of the road. He would remember it later, though he paid no attention at the time.
What does it mean to be a man? What does it mean to be strong? Those were the questions in my head. Was I stronger if I swallowed this anger and followed the rules? Or was I stronger if I made things right for my daughter? Can you believe that? At forty-five years of age, I still didn’t know. I had no idea what it was to be a man.