Always Standing Steady

Rarely Does The Truth Come Out

080413SJUL16: July 8, 2016. 0413. Topeka, Kansas, United States of America.

I pushed myself to run faster. Ezra pounded after me along the bike path that ran behind all the houses. For how dry Topeka normally was, the mornings were so dewy that I felt a bit like I was swimming rather than running. As it had years before, the heavy air plastered my hair to the back of my neck, making me brush it back every few strides. Ezra sped up to keep up with me. We had run side by side around all the monuments of DC, through the busy morning streets of Bombay, Moscow, Tel Aviv, and London. We had made a solid effort at going for a morning run when we were visiting Ezra's parents, but barely any running had actually happened due to the sheer number of neighbors who kept inviting us in. Now here we were, running the same routes I ran back when I was a teenager.

Back then people did stop me to chat; teammates, neighbors, curious gossipers, friends often ran to catch up with me and stayed at my side to exchange a few words of small talk. Same in Texas, I never could get through a run without stopping to talk to someone. There wasn't even anyone in sight along this path.

I slowed at the sight of a fresh plaque built into a bench--one of too many--that sat along the bike path. The inscription told me what I would have never guessed: Donated by Molly and Thomas Siteki, June 2, 2016. The plaque was even big enough to incorporate a meaningful quote--meaningful, not necessarily good: "If you don't act for the truth, you become part of the lie." No well known poet name trailing after it, nothing about hope or beauty or the future.

"Guess Molly has changed more than I expected," I murmured. "Wonder if this means that she finally took down that awful Love/Live/Laugh cross stitch in her kitchen."

"We can go check," a grin spread across Ezra's face. "You always did wonder if she ever stocked up on Army Mom merchandise."

I smiled at him. I had said that a little over six years ago; on one of many long flights across oceans, we had swapped stories and that was what I had to tell him to describe Molly.

"Um," I scanned the area around us, "I think we can get to her street if we go that way." I indicated another segment of fresh bike path that branched south.

"Let's find out," Ezra agreed. "Worse that happens is we find ourselves drowning in more beige."

"Better start swimming," I laughed and started jogging again. Ezra ran to keep up with me.

I discovered that I was exactly right. Molly and Tom's house had had a few fresh paint jobs of the exact same color with the exact same trim. Even their car was the same, just a newer model with the same paint job, the same make, and the same tassels hanging from the rearview mirror. I saw all of this when the car backed out of the driveway and drove down the street away from us. The garage door closed as slowly as I remembered it; I grabbed a small rock from the the flower bed and tossed it in the way of the sensors, making the door go back up again.

"I'm pretty sure there were two people in that car," Ezra muttered.

"Let's hope so," I agreed.

I pulled the hood of my sleeveless hoodie a little more over my head and made a run for the door into the house before any of the neighbors could see us. God knew they would not hesitate to call the police. Ezra was right behind me. The first thing I saw upon entering the kitchen was that that, regrettably, the Laugh/Live/Love cross stitch was still hanging in the same place in the kitchen. Now, next to it, was a framed print of a flag, a generic soldier, and all the words to "The Army Mom's Prayer."

"Goddamnit," I swore, "she did get army mom merchandise."

Ezra burst out laughing at something; I turned to see that Molly also had an Army Mom throw pillow, complete with an American flag, camouflage, and a lot of pink. It did not stop there, two different mugs on the counter deemed her an Army Mom--these also had pink, more pink than camo--and a keepsake box on the opposite kitchen wall had my picture, a folded flag, and more mumbo-jumbo about how the whole family serves and how brave everyone has to be. That is all well and fine except for the fact that she was my mom for under a year and didn't even try to contact me after I left for basic--this was after she tried to stop me from leaving, forcing me to sneak out of the house.