Fifteen Years After My Father Changed the Locks, He Seated Me at Table Twenty-Two
“My father told the whole country club board I was a low-level clerk,” I said.
“He told everyone in town you were court-martialed twelve years ago,” David said.
“He told the local Rotary Club you got discharged for financial irregularities.”
I folded the pages carefully along their original creases.
My silver class ring clicked against the Formica table as I turned it twice around my right ring finger.
“Clare spent four nights matching your deployment dates against the letters Gerald hid in his desk,” David said.
“She knows every place you were stationed, from Germany to Qatar.”
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