Early One Morning, Some Time Ago
I am now late for work. The nature of the things I have recently discovered has alarmed me. I know it unwise to directly confront the perpetrators of the crimes I am now privy to. I know this, but I cannot accept it.
Past is currently dormant; the shock that had come about in the discovery, weeks prior, that the woman he - and I - had so long loved and trusted had been cheating on him, has sent him into a proverbial coma. I am now the driver.
I finally arrive at work. I expect that I shall step in my office and be scolded for being late. Given what I feel I must do, this is the least of my concerns.
K, says my superior. You are late.
Yes. You know why.
The First Sergeant is waiting for you, he says, against my expectations.
You have reported me? I shoot him an incredulous eye.
No! No, he is quick to reassure me, this has nothing to do with that. He didn't tell me what it was about.
This man is a good man. He is honest with me. He is also not easy to intimidate or sway. He nevertheless looks shaken.
I know further discussion would get nowhere if the first sergeant was already waiting. I nod to him, the fear of the implications of this meeting clenching at my stomach.
I enter the office.
You are late.
Yes.
Have a seat.
Yes.
He does not mince words. He has never.
I understand recently you discovered that your fiancee has been cheating on you.
...Yes.
Is there anything that you have intended to do about this?
No.
He stares at me. This pain is not yet fully past me. I cannot meet the stare with the same intensity.
Nothing?
No.
I also understand you are seeing a counselor for depression.
...Yes, I am.
Is that not doing something about it?
I misunderstood what you were saying. I am not yet... I have not yet recovered from this.
Where is past? He is better at dealing with people. Please wake up. I need you.
Do you understand that as a member of the military with a top secret clearance, anything known about your personal life is considered a liability?
Please wake up.
Yes, I know. I just wanted to talk to somebody.
Well, now you are talking to me. Do remember the details of my job in particular; the one I signed up for. I'm not just a First Sergeant. I collect information. Now I have collected it on you. The point is this. You were recently made aware of some rumors pertaining to my superiors.
Clench.
These rumors are just that. You must understand that at their higher level, even rumors, unsubstantiated as they are, can ruin their careers. Just like the rumor that on the night you found out she was cheating on you, you went to the arms room and attempted to draw a weapon to go kill her and the man she was with.
Please, god. I need you, past, wake up, I have never dealt with this before. What do I say?
That's a lie, you know that's a lie, damnit. I wouldn't do that. Why would I risk that?
I don't know what happened. I'm just warning you about the power of a rumor. If you go through with your plan, if you try to get these men investigated, know that the same investigations can be put on you. You can lose everything, but at the very least, you'll lose your clearance. Guess what happens then.
Oh, god, I didn't do anything! I drove to a friend's. I didn't go to hers, why would I? Are you threatening me? Is this a threat?
I'm losing it. This isn't composure. This isn't me at all. This is too much. I need you, past. I need you to handle this. You're the political one.
He does not answer me, anyway. You're not going to talk to the investigators, and you're also going to stop seeing your counselor. If you have to talk to him, do so under another pretense. If I keep seeing that you are seeing someone for depression, I will have your clearance suspended.
Pause.
K?
Still just blank. Can't say anything. I don't have any solid evidence. If I accuse, it's me, and my rank, versus them and theirs. I know that one of the men in question has previously had an accusation on him. The investigator of the man turned out to be of a lower rank. Ultimately, nothing happened. I don't know who did the accusing or what happened to them. I need more time.
Past surfaces long enough to tell me that if I let this slide, I am no better than they. That he will not forgive me.
Do you understand?
Yes.
I'm sorry.
You're dismissed. Tell your supervisor I want to see him.
Yes.
I'm sorry. I need more time.
...
As per first sergeant's instructions, I am later punished for having been late.
EDIT: I will say a few things regarding this type of entry. One, they will follow no chronological order. When a memory of this type comes to me, I will transcribe it. Maybe when I have told all the tales I have to tell, I shall organize them.
Two, it sounds dramatic because over time, memory corrupts the original film, editing to its heart's content. I have attempted to stay as close to the truth as possible. All events I will mention did occur during my life, albeit perhaps not with the flair I recall - but be honest, reader. Do you really want me to type out all the stutterings, the uhms, the long and rambling tangents that people tend to fall into when dancing around their point?
Not that it'd change the style, but I'm all about rhetorical questions. Is there no greater technique of writing than asking a question of which you don't care about the answer?
Don't answer that.
Until next time.
K
Past is currently dormant; the shock that had come about in the discovery, weeks prior, that the woman he - and I - had so long loved and trusted had been cheating on him, has sent him into a proverbial coma. I am now the driver.
I finally arrive at work. I expect that I shall step in my office and be scolded for being late. Given what I feel I must do, this is the least of my concerns.
K, says my superior. You are late.
Yes. You know why.
The First Sergeant is waiting for you, he says, against my expectations.
You have reported me? I shoot him an incredulous eye.
No! No, he is quick to reassure me, this has nothing to do with that. He didn't tell me what it was about.
This man is a good man. He is honest with me. He is also not easy to intimidate or sway. He nevertheless looks shaken.
I know further discussion would get nowhere if the first sergeant was already waiting. I nod to him, the fear of the implications of this meeting clenching at my stomach.
I enter the office.
You are late.
Yes.
Have a seat.
Yes.
He does not mince words. He has never.
I understand recently you discovered that your fiancee has been cheating on you.
...Yes.
Is there anything that you have intended to do about this?
No.
He stares at me. This pain is not yet fully past me. I cannot meet the stare with the same intensity.
Nothing?
No.
I also understand you are seeing a counselor for depression.
...Yes, I am.
Is that not doing something about it?
I misunderstood what you were saying. I am not yet... I have not yet recovered from this.
Where is past? He is better at dealing with people. Please wake up. I need you.
Do you understand that as a member of the military with a top secret clearance, anything known about your personal life is considered a liability?
Please wake up.
Yes, I know. I just wanted to talk to somebody.
Well, now you are talking to me. Do remember the details of my job in particular; the one I signed up for. I'm not just a First Sergeant. I collect information. Now I have collected it on you. The point is this. You were recently made aware of some rumors pertaining to my superiors.
Clench.
These rumors are just that. You must understand that at their higher level, even rumors, unsubstantiated as they are, can ruin their careers. Just like the rumor that on the night you found out she was cheating on you, you went to the arms room and attempted to draw a weapon to go kill her and the man she was with.
Please, god. I need you, past, wake up, I have never dealt with this before. What do I say?
That's a lie, you know that's a lie, damnit. I wouldn't do that. Why would I risk that?
I don't know what happened. I'm just warning you about the power of a rumor. If you go through with your plan, if you try to get these men investigated, know that the same investigations can be put on you. You can lose everything, but at the very least, you'll lose your clearance. Guess what happens then.
Oh, god, I didn't do anything! I drove to a friend's. I didn't go to hers, why would I? Are you threatening me? Is this a threat?
I'm losing it. This isn't composure. This isn't me at all. This is too much. I need you, past. I need you to handle this. You're the political one.
He does not answer me, anyway. You're not going to talk to the investigators, and you're also going to stop seeing your counselor. If you have to talk to him, do so under another pretense. If I keep seeing that you are seeing someone for depression, I will have your clearance suspended.
Pause.
K?
Still just blank. Can't say anything. I don't have any solid evidence. If I accuse, it's me, and my rank, versus them and theirs. I know that one of the men in question has previously had an accusation on him. The investigator of the man turned out to be of a lower rank. Ultimately, nothing happened. I don't know who did the accusing or what happened to them. I need more time.
Past surfaces long enough to tell me that if I let this slide, I am no better than they. That he will not forgive me.
Do you understand?
Yes.
I'm sorry.
You're dismissed. Tell your supervisor I want to see him.
Yes.
I'm sorry. I need more time.
...
As per first sergeant's instructions, I am later punished for having been late.
EDIT: I will say a few things regarding this type of entry. One, they will follow no chronological order. When a memory of this type comes to me, I will transcribe it. Maybe when I have told all the tales I have to tell, I shall organize them.
Two, it sounds dramatic because over time, memory corrupts the original film, editing to its heart's content. I have attempted to stay as close to the truth as possible. All events I will mention did occur during my life, albeit perhaps not with the flair I recall - but be honest, reader. Do you really want me to type out all the stutterings, the uhms, the long and rambling tangents that people tend to fall into when dancing around their point?
Not that it'd change the style, but I'm all about rhetorical questions. Is there no greater technique of writing than asking a question of which you don't care about the answer?
Don't answer that.
Until next time.
K