Ashley Collins

American Glass

Novel extract

Chapter 11 

Vi

Reno, Nevada

1996

The trial of Robert Collier was not a quick affair. There were days on the witness stand, and also meetings with defense lawyers, child psychologists, and school counselors. It’s not like you see on TV where a few hours pass and the verdict comes in a satisfying bundle.

At one point, Mom and I had to get our own lawyer. We faced lawsuits from my dad’s alleged victim. I didn’t know what we could have possibly done to a man we’d never met, but

Henry Sumner insisted there was something.

I missed a lot a lot of days of class, especially in the afternoons.

For the first few months we went to the courthouse, our arrival was carefully planned out. We would arrive at the attorney’s office at a certain time, then switch vehicles and be driven to the courthouse. Then we’d walk in, surrounded by security and attorneys to keep the cameras from plastering pictures of me and Mom on the front page.

Six months later, the press no longer cared about our pictures.

We weren’t the story. My dad was. His victim was. We were just pieces. Ironically my dad refused to have his picture taken. So the one photo shown over and over was the booking photo they had taken of him the day of his arrest. That was until his attorney filed a protest, and then they stopped showing his image altogether.

My dad’s defense team was led by a portly grey-haired man with Roman numerals behind his name and a long list of wins under his belt. His strategy was to show Robert Collier as a man with a troubled past. To highlight his heroism in the Vietnam War. Mr. Frank Newcastle III wanted to show my dad as human. The way I knew him. Not as the monster everyone thought he was.

“Are you ready Vivianna?” Mr. The III asked.

I was tired of answering questions by this point. It felt like the rest of my life would happen on a witness stand, in a Nevada courtroom.

“Where’s my dad?” I asked, looking at the empty seat at the defense table

He pointed to a door in the corner of the room. It was big and metal with several locks on the outside. “He’s right on the other side of the door, Vi.”

“Can he hear me?” I asked.

“Yes. You see that camera right there,” he pointed over his shoulder, “he can see and hear right now.”

“Daddy?”

I started to stand up in the witness box. Mr. Newcastle grabbed my arm and motioned me to sit back down.

“Vivianna. I know this is hard but you told me you want to help him, remember?”

I nodded.

“We need to hear you say it. For the court recorder.”

“Yes. I want to help.”

“Good. Please sit down. I’m going to ask you some questions about life with your dad,” he said.

“Did your dad ever talk about war with you, Vi?”

“No.”

He had rarely mentioned the war. One day I’d found some medals of his in a box under his bed and was playing with them. He yanked the box from my hands and told me to never touch anything of his. He moved the box to the top shelf of the closet, buried in the back where I could no longer reach it.

“But you know he was in the war?”

“Yes. Mom told me he was a Marine. And that Marines are the bravest.”

“Does your dad ever do anything that makes it seem like he is still a soldier?”

“Like making us walk fast?”

“Sure. Like walking fast. If that is something Marines do. Anything else?”

My dad had a habit of cleaning his guns in the living room. He would strip them apart, clean each piece, and reassemble it. The living room would sometimes be full of gun parts and knives, strewn about as if he was cataloging them to make sure they were all there. It didn’t seem helpful to tell the judge this story so I told him something else I’d remembered.

“He screams in the night, sometimes. And once, when we were at a store, there was a loud crash and he started knocking over a display. The store owner was so mad.”

“Why do you think this makes him seem like a Marine, Vivianna?”

“Well, he always shouts for his commander. He says words I never hear him say and he talks about his friend Charlie.”

“Do you remember the night of May 2^nd, 1992?”

If he had asked me randomly, there was no way I could have remembered. But we’d been over this before so I knew what to expect.

“Yes. I do.”

“Could you tell us in your own words what happened?”

“That’s the day we were coming back from Mexico. I had a pretty senorita dress he’d just bought me. I couldn’t stop twirling it.”

“What happened when you crossed the border?”

“There was a loud noise. A popping sound from somewhere on the road.”

“What happened next?”

“Dad went pale. Then he swerved off the road. He opened the door and got out of the car. He started screaming. I was so scared. Mom must have been too because she closed the door and locked it.”

“What do you think could have caused the noise?”

“I don’t know. Mom said it was a car backfiring. It was loud. Like it was right next to us.”

“Did you see what happened next?”

“There were cops everywhere. Mom covered me up with a blanket and tried to get me to go to sleep. It must have worked because I don’t know what happened after that. A few days later, Daddy was home.”

Chapter 12 

Robert

Pennsylvania

1964

“We are so proud of you Bobby. Tell him how proud we are Frank.”

“So proud,” said Frank.

Vera was smoothing down the sides of Robert’s hair. It had been growing all summer, but Robert hadn’t let her cut it. He wanted it to be buzzed off when he got to basic like all the rest of the young men enlisting. He had a suitcase packed with a few changes of clothes and a family photo, sitting by the garage.

“What time is your father supposed to get here?” asked Vera.

“Should be any minute, Mom.”

“While we wait, let me get a picture.”

“Aww Mom. Do we have to?”

“We do Bobby. Next time I see you the leaves will be gone from the trees. You’ll be a full-grown man.”

“I already am a man.”

“I know, I know. Just let me enjoy you being my baby for just a little longer,” she ran the back of her hand down Robert’s face. “Frank, you and Joyce get on either side of Bobby.” Robert inched closer to his sister so he wouldn’t have to touch Frank. Joyce was just pregnant enough to start showing. It was a point of contention for everyone in the house. A secret they weren’t allowed to talk about.

“Bobby, put your hand around Joyce. Joyce, close up your coat. That’s it.”

Vera snapped the photo. Then another. Then one more.

“Look, Dad is here,” said Robert, thankful for the excuse to be done with photos.

Gerald pulled the car into the driveway. Joyce greeted him when he got out, despite her mother’s disapproval. Robert opened the rear passenger side door and a zoomie three-year-old

Rebecka leapt out and threw her arms around Robert’s leg. “Bab. Bab. Bab”

Robert picked her up, “I’m glad to see you too peanut.”

He gave her a long hug before putting her down, “Your favorite brother got you a present.

Want to see?”

“Yesh,” replied Rebe.

He pulled a box out of his pocket and handed it to her.

She pulled out the little red bow barrettes that were inside.

“Love Bab.”

“I thought you might.”

She took them over to Edith who had just got out of the car

“Look. Look.”

She opened her little fingers and handed them to her mother. Edith placed them in her

hair, just in front of her pigtails.

“Good to see you son,” said Gerald.

Robert turned around. His first instinct was to hug his dad, but he held back. Instead, he brought his right hand up to his brow. Now that he was enlisted, he thought it appropriate that he salute his father who outranked him many times over. Gerald copied the movement, “At ease soldier.”

Robert put his hand at his side.

“That is a fine salute you’ve got there son. The Marines are getting one heck of a soldier.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

“I made some lunch before you all run off,” said Vera.

Robert, who was never very good with goodbyes, wanted to get on the road. “Mom, we have a long drive ahead. Harrisburg is three hours if we don’t stop.”

He looked down at his little sister, knowing they’d have to stop.

“Nonsense. Those sandwiches are not going to eat themselves. Besides your dad and his wife have just driven all the way down from Ohio. I’m sure they’d like a chance to freshen up.”

“That would be very kind of you Vera,” said Edith.

“Well, it is the Christian thing to do.”

Vera invited them inside but kept them in the living room. She’d put out a plate of chicken sandwiches and a pitcher of iced tea. Gerald and Vera made small talk about the weather. It was the most civil Robert had seen his parents act in years. Edith sat in one of the thicker armchairs reading a book to Rebe who was sucking on half a sandwich instead of eating it. Frank had not been seen since the photos. Robert thought he must be out back in his workshop. He hoped he would stay there until after they were gone.

“Mom is going to miss you, Bobby,” Joyce whispered in his ear. “But not as much as me.”

Robert had been a buffer between Joyce and their mother since Carol Ann moved out. Several years ago Carol Ann met a banker, married him, and moved to Baltimore. Despite the distance she still called every week to talk to her mother. The weekly phone calls were not enough of a distraction to keep things civil for long between Vera and Joyce.

A few days before Robert was set to ship out Joyce had told him that the father of her child, Richard Carmichael, had almost saved enough for a deposit on an apartment across town. Soon after they moved in together, he planned to marry her. “Think Mom will be okay with the baby then?”

“You know how Mom is. She wants you to marry someone rich, like Carol Ann did. I don’t think she’ll ever approve of you marrying a cook. Not even a talented one.”

“He’ll be a chef someday Robert. With his own restaurant. Then Mom will see that I made the right choice.”

“I have no doubt,” said Robert with a forced smile.

“It is going to be hard, just the two of us in this house. Will you write me?”

“Of course I will. I promise.”

“And call too?”

“When I can. They’re going to have me pretty busy.”

Robert tried not to think about all he was going to miss while he was at boot camp–family dinners, birthdays, and outings. He might get leave for the holidays, but there was no guarantee.

Robert picked up a sandwich, his third, and took a bite.

“Well Bobby, I suppose we should get on the road,” said Gerald.

“Did you pack your Bible?” Vera asked.

Robert nodded.

“And clean socks? Plenty of toothpaste? A bar of good soap?”

“I did, Mom. Don’t fuss. They will give me everything I need at basic training.”

“I wish I knew where Frank went off to. I know he’d want to say goodbye,” Vera said.

“It’s fine Mom.”

He gave a last round of hugs to Vera and Joyce then waited in the car for Gerald and

Edith to wrangle up Rebe.

Several hours and three pit stops later they pulled into a hotel in Harrisburg, ten minutes from the MEPS center where they had to drop Robert off at 0500.

They ate dinner in the lobby. When Edith went back to the room to get Rebe ready for bed, Gerald and Robert stayed back.

“Let me order you a beer son.”

“Dad?”

“I know, but you’re nearly 18 and you’re a soldier. You know I respect this country and its laws, but damn it, I want to have a beer with my boy.”

Robert had never heard his dad swear before. He tried to hide his smirk while his dad ordered two beers from the bartender.

Gerald held up his glass. “What should we toast to?”

“The Marine Corps?”

“Ah. That’ll do fine. To the Marine Corps and the man you are about to become.”

They clinked together their glasses. Robert sipped at the beer, trying to pretend he’d never had one before. “It’s good, Dad.”

Gerald reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, hanging over the back of his chair, and pulled out a small, plain blue box. He slid it to Robert.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Robert lifted off the lid of the box and pulled out the pendant inside. It was a wooden cross hanging on a strip of twine.

“That cross kept me safe through basic and into WWII.”

Robert twirled the cross between two fingers. The wood was splitting near the base and a chip of it was missing on the back. In some places, the varnish had worn off completely. In the places where his fingers held it now.

“I meant to re-varnish it before I got it to you.”

“It’s great Dad. Thank you.” Robert put it around his neck. His fingers picked at the spot where the wood was chipped. “What happened here? Nazi knife?”

“Nothing so exciting. It nearly got caught in between two gears of the submarine I was stationed on. That reminds me, always keep it tucked into your shirt, especially if you’re working on a diesel engine.”

They both laughed.

“I will Dad. I promise.”

The next morning, before the sun had broken the horizon, Robert and Gerald were up and out the door. Gerald couldn’t go in. The next part Robert had to do on his own.

MEPS was a hive of activity. All around were young men, half asleep, clunky despite the pressed white shirts most of them were wearing.

“Name,” said a woman sitting at the front desk. Her face was round and owl-like, emphasized more because of her Coke bottle glasses.

“Collier, Robert.”

The woman thumbed through a stack of folders. She pulled a form off the top and stamped it. “Take this form over to the next window, drop it off, and have a seat.”

There were three windows in a row, all with a single Marine manning them.

“I’m sorry, which window?”

“Take this form over to the next window, drop it off, and have a seat. Next in line.”

“It’s this one,” said a voice from Robert’s left. “The one with the number 1 painted below it.”

Robert turned and saw a guy who didn’t look old enough to enlist. His hair was an unbrushed mess of dirty blonde. His dark eyes were mostly hidden beneath his bangs.

“Name’s Anders. David Anders. I got here about ten minutes before you. She wouldn’t help me figure out where the line was either.”

“Collier, Robert,” he held out a hand.

“Yeah, I heard,” Anders said as he shook Robert’s hand.

Robert dropped off the form in line #1 and sat down in the empty seat next to Anders.

“What branch are you going into?” Robert asked Anders.

“Marines. OoRah.”

“Me too. OoRah.”

“You nervous about joining up?” asked Anders.

“Not really,” Responded Robert. “Marines aren’t allowed to be scared. My dad and my granddad served. Navy and Army. I had an uncle who was shot down by Germans. Guess it’s in my blood. How about you? Nervous?”

“Yeah. I am. But I just aged out of the orphanage. It was either this or one of those group homes. Have you ever seen one of those places? I’ll take my chances with Uncle Sam. At least then I’ll be able to put some decent money in my pocket, travel a bit, maybe meet a girl or two overseas.”

Robert had never met an orphan before. He didn’t know what to say so he said the one thing he could think of.

“I’m sorry that you—”

“That I don’t have parents?”

“Yeah. I never met an orphan before. I’m not sure what to say.”

“It’s okay. I get that a lot. It wasn’t so bad, really. The last home I was in, they were good people but there were eight of us kids. Two that were theirs naturally and six of us from foster. It was always busy. But they loved us all the same. Took us to church. We were always fed. Believe me, others have it a lot worse.”

Robert couldn’t imagine living with seven other kids. It was bad enough having to share a bathroom with his sisters. There was something in Anders’ manner that Robert respected. He didn’t complain about his lot in life. He was just here, ready to stand on his own. Much like Robert was. His father always told him that you could start gauging a man’s character as soon as you met him.