Free The Sunset Witness by Gayle Hayes Page A

must have been
separated from the chain when they were in bed together.  The necklace was my
gift to Sarah for her eighteenth birthday.  If I'd not found the cross and he'd
walked in alone, I could have forgiven Nate.  I calmly walked toward them on my
way out of the house.  I told Nate I hoped he'd enjoy his birthday cake.  Then
I took the cross from my pocket and gave it to Sarah.  I told her she might
want to take it off the next time she and Nate wrestled in bed.  I returned to
Glacier and then moved out of the house before Fall Semester.
    By the time school started, Nate already was drinking
too much.  Friends told me Nate often cut classes to party or to recover from a
party.  He was drunk while he took his finals, and he failed most of his
courses.
    Nate's parents intervened after he flunked out of
school.  By the following summer he'd stopped drinking and joined the army. 
The world was relatively peaceful, and Nate thought he might be a career
soldier.  Instead, he was sent to Afghanistan after the September 11 attack on
the twin towers.  Army life seemed to agree with him, though.  Perhaps, he
craved the discipline.  He stayed for more than one tour before he was blown up
by an improvised explosive device.  He once told me he might be a general like
Schwarzkopf.  Nate had a favorite Schwarzkopf quote, and he repeated it often:  "The
truth of the matter is that you always know the right thing to do. The hard
part is doing it."
    After Nate's remains were lowered into the ground,
Sarah and I hugged each other and cried.  We'd not seen each other since Nate's
nineteenth birthday.  There was no time to talk after the funeral.  I had a
plane to catch back to Montana.  I was in my first month of my last year of law
school, and I was already overwhelmed.  I didn't see Sarah while I worked at my
father's firm.  She'd moved to Nevada.  She hadn't come back to Villanova for
my father's funeral.  I left for Europe shortly after.  Six years is a long
time in a friendship.  Were we still friends?
    Fortunately, I had to keep busy.  Unloading and
finding places for all the groceries was time consuming.  I made room on the
shelf in my closet for extra toilet paper, Kleenex, and paper towels by
removing Sarah's pillow and sheets.  I stuffed the sheets inside the pillow
case so I could take them to the laundry.  I felt relieved.  I'd not see Sarah
again.  I was about to close the closet door, when I thought to check the
sheets for stains.  I pulled the fitted sheet out of the pillow case and spread
it out on the living room carpet.  For a moment, I was reliving the past.  I
realized I was crying when I heard someone pounding on my door.  I hurriedly
stuffed the sheet back inside the pillow case and wiped my eyes with my fingers
before I opened the door.
    The scruffy-looking man I'd seen near the restrooms
my first day in Sunset was in my face.  He'd not shaved, and he needed a shower
and clean clothes.  He was asking for help to get back to Portland.  He'd been robbed
of what little money he had.  I told him I had only a dollar and some change
and that I never keep cash on me.  He said the dollar would help.  My purse was
still sitting on the drop leaf table, so I dug for my wallet and found a dollar
bill.  The man had entered the kitchen and was right behind me when I turned
around.  I gasped and shoved the dollar at him, telling him I was sorry I
couldn't help.  He looked at me and said he was sorry he caught me at a bad
time.  I was embarrassed.  I knew he could tell I'd wiped tears away.  He was
still thanking me as I closed and locked the door.  I watched him walk down the
stairs and toward the entrance to the parking lot.  Then I went into the
bathroom and cried.
     

 
     
     
    Sunday, June 5, 2011
     
    When my alarm went off on Sunday morning, I hit the
snooze button and lay there thinking.  I know better than to cry, but every now
and then I need a good cry.  The aftermath