"Why does it have to be gender neutral?" She questions.
He doesn't answer her. He goes over to the closet, and pushes the door open. He stares at the clothing inside. There is a mix of green, and yellow in part of the closet. His eyes shift to the other half of the closet. He furrows his brow. He points to one of the hangers.
"Sarah, is that a tutu?"
"Yes," she confirms.
"Is that just wishful thinking?"
"For a ballerina?"
"For a girl?"
Before she can answer Sydney darts into the room, and crawls under the crib. Mac rolls her eyes.
"Out," she insists.
"There must be a thunderstorm on the horizon," Harm points out.
"She can hide under the couch, or in the master bedroom, but she does not need to be in here. I don't want dog hair all over everything."
"Sydney," Harm calls.
She wriggles her way out from underneath the crib. She stops at his feet. He bends over, and lifts her off the ground. He carries her out of the room. Mac follows him out of the room, closing the door behind them. Sydney looks over Harm's shoulder at Mac. The golden retriever glares at her.
"You're such a big baby."
Harm carries her into the master bedroom. When he puts her down, she jumps onto the bed, and burrows under the covers.
"I see that she is still a bed hog," Harm comments.
"I would like to point out that you created that monster."
He grins, "I will take responsibility for that. How is she doing with all of this," he points to her stomach.
She wears a pair of athletic shorts, and his Navy t-shirt. She looks down at her burgeoning belly.
"It irritates her."
"The baby isn't even here yet," he points out.
"It is already interfering with her life."
"How?"
"She can't get as close to me as she would like."
"I've met her, and I find that hard to believe."
"One morning I woke up, and found her lying with her head on my stomach, just looking at me."
"You've offended her."
She points to her stomach, "This offends her."
He points to the bed, "Have a seat."
She takes a seat at the end of the bed. He takes a seat next to her.
"Help me understand all of this."
"I don't know if I can."
"You filed papers to be separated the day after I left."
"Yes," she confirms.
"I didn't sign them for two months."
"I know."
"When did you find out?"
"Before you signed them," she admits.
"Why didn't you retract them?"
"I still want a divorce."
"You want to do this on your own?"
"No one wants to do this on their own."
"Sarah, what happened?"
"To us?"
He shakes his head, "That's not what I'm asking."
September 15th, 2014—0723 Zulu
Harriet rolls towards the sound of a ringing phone. Confident that all of her children are secured in their beds she doesn't even open her eyes to answer the phone. She grabs the cordless phone off the charger, and places it to her ear.
"Hello?" She responds sheepishly.
"I'm sorry to wake you up."
Harriet opens her eyes, and glances at the clock. It reads; 3:23.
"That's okay ma'am, what's going on?"
"I am sorry to be calling so late."
"Ma'am, what's going on? You've already apologized. Is something wrong?"
"I need to ask you a favor," Sarah admits.
"Anything," she agrees.
"Can you come get me?"
"Ma'am where are you?"
Sarah doesn't respond.
"Mac? What's going on? Are you okay?"
"I…" she trails off, as a lump forms in her throat.
"Text me the address, I'll be there shortly."
"Thank you."
September 15th, 2014—0743 Zulu
Harriet enters the E.R. wearing a pair of sneakers, her pajama bottoms, and a hooded sweatshirt. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail. She approaches a nurse at the desk, who points her in the right direction. She stops in front of E.R. bay 17. The door is closed. She takes a deep breath, and knocks. Someone on the other side of the door tells her to enter. She closes door behind her. She looks up, and finds her commanding officer sitting in a hospital bed, wearing a gown. Harriet sets the bag of clothing down on a chair next to the bed. She steps forward, and examines the general. She has six stiches above her left eyebrow. She has an abrasion to her right cheekbone. Her lip is split.
"I brought clothes, like you asked."
"Thank you."
"What happened?"
"Nothing," she lies.
"Were you in a car accident?"
"No."
"A bar fight?"
"No."
Harriet reaches for her hand. She notices the bruising on her arms, and the abrasions on her knuckles. She notices a bruise in the shape of a handprint on her right arm.
"What happened to you?"
"I don't want to talk about it," she answers, "I just want to go home."
"Where are you clothes?"
"They took them," she says in a small voice.
"Why did they take them?"
Sarah breaks eye contact, "Because they're evidence."
"Evidence of what? Did you kill someone?"
"No."