"I don't know," is the answer I gave Natalie a few days ago when she asked me if I had ever accepted Ted's confession. The reveal came as a shock to me, for sure, but I shot Ted down before I decided to accept it or not. Therefore, I couldn't answer Natalie's question. If only Ted were still alive, although, to be honest, I believe it was 50/50 for me. It's strange, though, because I always felt he was queer.
Stop, Bill. You're overthinking. But Natalie's question has reopened this cold case.
In the past few days, Natalie and I have explored Charleston a little (not Downtown and the beach yet) and kept Teddy close while he recovers. However, Natalie and I's argument from before haunts me a little. I'm scared Natalie will live up to her threat and turn Ted over to the Humane Society after his check-up appointment next week, even though I've forced myself to watch Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo a few times and refresh my memory on aircraft carriers. I don't know if this is enough for Natalie. I want Teddy, though, so I'll keep trying and hope for the best—and it just so happens to be The Fighting Lady Day today.
Natalie's funny. She got a temporary YouTube subscription, so we could easily watch these movies. She wants me to watch them as much as I can before returning to Patriots Point. It's like being a little kid again, and Natalie is Mom.
Do your homework, Bill, so that you can keep the dog!
Granted, I'd rather Natalie be the tech genius in all this. I don't know how to use YouTube or these other streaming services. They weren't around when I was a kid.
It's raining today, so Natalie and I—except for Natalie attending her book club in the morning with her new best friend, Tallulah—haven't done much today. The Fighting Lady's up on YouTube, but before Natalie starts it, she faces me and asks, "Hey, Daddy, quick question. What color eyes did your Ted have?"
Why is she asking me this? She's been asking many things about Ted since she met Tallulah. How much did she tell her about us?
"Um..." I hesitate but shrug and pet Teddy, who's at the foot of my chair. "Blueberry blue?"
"Do you have a picture of him in your album that I can share with Tallulah next time?" is Natalie's following query.
I glare slightly. "Okay, Natalie, how much have you told her? Ted is supposed to be between you and me only." A familiar lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it and choke on my spit. "Why are you suddenly so glued to Tallulah?"
"She just likes naval history," Natalie answers. "I recommended Nimitz Class by Patrick Robinson to her. She was all over it."
It's my turn to say, "Let's just watch the movie," and I face the TV. "I'll think about that picture." But again, I'd rather keep Ted to myself. Nothing will bring him back, so I wish Natalie would stop telling Tallulah everything. Ted is my Ted, my best friend, with whom I still have a closed case. I'm a jerk and selfish—yes, I know—but Natalie didn't know Ted like I did. He risked his life to save mine when I crashed my airplane, and I couldn't save him in return.
Natalie looks slightly hurt but also seems to understand my uneasiness. "All right, then."
She starts the documentary, and my heart pounds when I see the opening shot of a group of airplanes flying to the Fighting Lady, who's sailing for the Panama Canal. That's the ship I'm attempting to volunteer on. She's a movie star.
Sophie hops down from her tower—she's been hiding since we got Ted—and rubs against Natalie while Teddy leans against me. It's nice that she's beginning to open up to him—and sad that a cat is braver than me.
While the documentary progresses, I study the volunteer sailors no older than Ted and I were when we joined the service: eighteen or nineteen. We had never been to sea, but our guts told us it was the right thing to do. And well, there we were.
The nostalgia is real, watching those young sailors sunbathe on Yorktown's Flight Deck, play cards, visit the chapel, etc. It's so real that my mind fills with memories of Ted and me living just like these sailors.
I have to turn myself in. I have to. Maybe if I spend some time behind bars, I can free my mind from these memories—and find a way to rekindle what the documentary is showing. Or, maybe this is merely another grief wave.
I'm quiet once the documentary ends, so Natalie questions, "Are you okay, Dad?"
No. But I force a smile. "Ted and I were just like those sailors, Natalie."
Without warning, Sophie leaves Natalie and jumps into my lap, lying down. Her furry tail wraps around my wrist, and Teddy growls slightly.
"Teddy!" Natalie snaps. "Bad dog!" She stands and begins approaching him but retreats. That childhood fear is still in her, even though she's shown me she's conflicted about Teddy. She won't keep him, though, if he growls at her cat.
With this in mind, I nod at Teddy and softly say, "It's okay, Teddy," petting him. "I love you just as much as Sophie."
Did I seriously say that? Now, I'm just embarrassed. What happened to hiding emotions?
Natalie seems to study me while I gently boot Sophie down and stand, grabbing my notebook on the kitchen counter. I switch from my chair to the kitchen table, sit, and pen my thoughts on The Fighting Lady.
Natalie fixes me a drink, and I embarrassingly sip it while I write and replay memories, as well as think about following through with turning myself in as a murderer. The police station is around the corner, and while I don't drive that much anymore, I can still do it.
It's strange—I've tried withholding emotions since Ted passed and have succeeded, but now they're suddenly escaping? I assume that's another reason Temple assigned me The Fighting Lady and Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo. But a Navy man doesn't show emotions; he's "unfazed like the roaring sea". Those were the words of Ted and I's Lieutenant.
Shivering, I finish my assignment and stand again, asking Natalie, who just picked up her book, "Where are your car keys, Nat?"
"My car keys? What are you talking about?" Natalie faces me at a clap of thunder outside.
I clench my fists. "I need to turn myself in."
"What are you talking about?"
A few tears run down my cheeks, but I brush them away. "I murdered Ted, Natalie. I should've turned myself in a long time ago."
For a second, Natalie appears like she'll laugh, but she quickly loses her half-smile. "What are you talking about?"
"I murdered Ted, Natalie!" I slam my fist on the kitchen table. It shakes, and a stinging pain engulfs my hand. The memories, the images I saw in The Fighting Lady, invade me like an incurable virus.
"No, you didn't!" Natalie argues back. "You did not murder Ted, Daddy. It was an accident." She hugs me and lets me lean on her shoulder. "When will you understand that? Please, Daddy. You need to open up about him—to Tallulah and Patriots Point. Let us help you."
"He was my best friend," I whimper, "and I killed him before I accepted his confession."
"You never meant to hurt him," Natalie includes. "You are not a murderer and never will be. Don't you think you would rather spend time at Patriots Point instead of the police station, Daddy?" She releases me and helps me sit at the table again.
My shaking ceases. "I'm sorry, Natalie. I don't know what came over me."
"I think that documentary did you well," Natalie admits. "Look at this." She opens my notebook and flips through the four pages I dedicated to my thoughts on The Fighting Lady. "Take what you've written here, Daddy, and apply it to Patriots Point. Let them hear yours and Ted's story."
Another thunderclap sends Sophie and Teddy under the table.
Natalie chuckles, and I find myself smiling slightly, too. I'm still conflicted but feel better now that I've vomited my thoughts on Natalie and in my notebook. The Navy always told me Ted's death was an accident in a military setting. I never believed them.
"Think about that picture, okay, Daddy?" Natalie inquires. "It'll help mine and Tallulah's investigation."
Investigation? What is she talking about? I open my mouth to ask, but Natalie checks her wristwatch.
"Oh, would you look at that—it's already 5:00. I guess I'll start dinner. What will you do, Daddy?"
I'll let it slide whatever she's doing with Tallulah. Again, it's not like it'll bring back Ted. I need to let Natalie live her life and not worry about me all the time.
I blink away a few more tears and glance at The Fighting Lady, which is still on Natalie's temporary YouTube subscription. I inhale and finally say, "I guess I'll watch The Fighting Lady again."
So, I do. I return to the living room with my notebook and am even more drawn into The Fighting Lady now. It's not as much as Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo, but I'm still interested. I write two more pages of notes in my notebook before falling asleep halfway through watching it a third time.
I wake to Natalie shaking my shoulder and saying, "Daddy, it's time for you to go to bed."
I open my eyes and yawn. Natalie lifts me to my feet and escorts me to my room. She waits outside the door with Teddy while I change into my pajamas and squeeze a few eye drops in my eyes. I then grab Willed and climb into bed.
A few minutes later, Natalie enters with a warm glass of milk and Teddy at her heels. "Here you go, Dad," she says, handing me the glass. "This should help you sleep tonight after what happened in the kitchen earlier."
"Thank you," I say, accepting the cup.
Natalie nods and kisses my cheek. She picks up Teddy and sets him on the bed with me.
My eyes widen. I thought Natalie didn't want the dog in bed with me.
"Just for tonight because of that episode," she tells me. "I hope he's enough."
"He's more than enough," I say while Teddy lies at the foot of my bed.
Natalie pecks my head next. "Goodnight, Daddy. I'll see you in the morning. You'll feel better. I promise."
"I already do," I admit, squeezing her tightly. Natalie leaves when I free her, and I look through Willed. Teddy's making noises in his sleep. I wonder if he's dreaming about his old life—the life where he was thrown into the street like an abandoned baby. Maybe I'll find out what happened to him one day, but today's not that day.
I get up an hour later to use the bathroom but stop in the hallway when I see Natalie's bedroom light on and hear her crying on the other side of the closed doors. It sounds like she's on the phone with Tallulah.
"Oh, Tallulah, I've tried everything, but Daddy has never been the same since The Incident; I'm sure of it. Do you think this will really work?"
A final small tear rolls down my flushed cheek. I can't believe what a terrible person I am. First, I killed my best friend because I struggled to accept his confession of being queer, and now I've neglected and abused Natalie her whole life. This is survivor's guilt like I've never seen before.
"You're right, Tallulah," Natalie explains a little later. "We need to try. We have to. This is the only way we may be able to save Daddy."
What is she talking about? What is this secret she, Tallulah, and Temple are working on?
Patriots Point may be my only answer.