"And a half," Mac corrects her.
"You don't even like eggplant lasagna."
"Of course I do."
"You wouldn't rather have a hamburger?"
"I didn't say that."
"What are you going to do when you retire?"
She shrugs, "I don't know."
"Are you going to spend all of your free time obsessing about her?"
"Probably."
"It's unhealthy to spend every moment focused on her."
"It's my job."
"You've got to let go of the mom guilt."
"I can't. I can't let go of any of the guilt."
Harriet furrows her brow, "What do you have to feel guilty about?"
"All of this is my fault."
"How is any of this your fault?"
"I pushed him to get custody of Ben. I thought that it was the right thing to do. I was the main character witness. He would still be here now, if I hadn't pushed him."
"First of all you didn't make him do anything. Second of all, he would have pursued gaining custody of Ben whether you had suggested it or not."
"Look where it got us. He's dead, and now Izzy has to grow up without her dad. How am I supposed to explain any of this to her?"
"Mac, it's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't take her father away from her. Someone else did."
"Then why do I feel so damn, guilty?" She responds on the verge of tears.
Harriet shrugs, "You tell me?"
Mac doesn't say anything. Harriet steps forward, and wraps her arms around her. After a few moments she lets go.
"Mac what is this really about?"
She purses her lips, "I don't know."
"Is any of this really about Harm?"
"No," she shake her head.
"It's about you?"
"Yeah," she nods.
"Why are you so hard on yourself? You hold yourself to an impossible standard that can only result in defeat. You are not wonder woman. You can't do everything by yourself all of the time."
"I feel like a failure."
"What would make you feel like a failure?"
"I'm not a good mom. The other day Izzy wanted to wear mismatched socks to school, and I let her. This morning she threw a tantrum because I promised to wash her polka dotted dress, and I forgot."
"That doesn't make you a bad mom. Everyone has a bad day. Okay? Twenty years from now she is not going to remember that you forgot to wash her dress."
"I just feel like nothing I do is enough. I just want to do what is best for her, but I don't even know if I'm doing that. I don't know if I'm making the right decisions."
"Are you getting nervous about retirement?"
"I'm supposed to retire next month. I don't know how not to be a marine. What if I…" she trials off.
"Feel resentment?"
"I am not great at being a civilian. I have tried civilian life before, and quite frankly I don't like it. What am I going to do? I don't see me spending my free time baking, and attending PTA meetings. I am not cut out for being Holly Homemaker."
"You'll figure it out."
"I have my doubts."
Harriet takes a moment to figure out the right response. She scrutinizes Mac's facial expression for some time. She shakes her head.
"Why are you still in uniform?"
"What is the point of changing? By the time I get around to changing it is time for bed. It is less laundry that way."
"So it's just sweats, and pajamas now?"
Mac breaks eye contact, "Something like that."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up," she realizes she's hit a touchy subject.
"It's okay."
"You haven't talk about it," Harriet points out.
"It's not something that just comes up during conversation."
"If you do want to talk about it…"
Mac cuts her off, "There is nothing to talk about."
"You should talk to someone. It doesn't have to be me."
She shakes her head in frustration, "Harriet there is nothing to talk about."
"You're planning to spend the rest of your life in denial?" Harriet cocks an eyebrow.
"I'm not in denial."
"What would you call it?"
"I don't know," she shrugs.
"Your life has been a series of events that you couldn't possibly be prepared for over the past five months. At some point you're going to have to face some of them. It's no wonder you're feeling guilty. You have dealt with any of it yet."
"That's not why I feel guilty," she argues.
"I disagree."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"How could I? You never talk about anything. You just pretend that none of it ever happened. Mac that's not normal."
"It didn't happen."
"And you're not in denial?"
She looks her in the eyes, "No."
"How long are you going to avoid the subject?"
"You should go. You have to pick up kids from practice," she reminds her.
"They won't die if they have to wait."
"You have a schedule to keep."
"They're scheduled to go through the drive through on the way home."
Sarah breaks eye contact, in an attempt to retreat from the conversation. She looks around the room, trying to find a way to convince Harriet to leave, and drop the conversation.
"Mac, talk to me. You can tell me anything. I am not going to judge you. You should know that by now."
"You won't understand."
"How will you know if you never tell me?"
"It's not something that I'm comfortable talking about."
"Right now?"
"Ever."
"So you're just going to let it fester inside of you for the next fifty or so years?"
Mac falls silent. She stares at the tile floor underneath their feet, with a look of guilt, and shame smeared across her face.