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To His Surprise, There Was Silence
12/5/2025
“TurboTeen?” Joe shook his head.
Matt focused on his spreadsheet. “What’s a TurboTeen?”
“New guy on the Sentinels, another speedster like Slipstream.” Joe scrolled through the article.
“Hmm, they need to work on that name.”
“True story.” Joe scanned the rest of the article. “His name may not be great, but brother’s got game. Saved a baby.”
“Saved it from what?”
“Gramps had a faulty carrier, and the kid slipped out of hand.”
“Oh, gee, that could have ended very badly. What happened?”
“TT spotted it happening from across Roosevelt Plaza and caught the kid just in time.”
Matt adjusted the formula in a cell. “Great save. Terrible name. I hope they give him a decent handle. Seems like an alright guy.”
Kohn entered the office with a folder in hand. He placed it in the tray on Joe’s desk. “What are you doing, Scariano?”
“I was just telling Jozsa about this baby in Empire City.”
“Stow the phone and get back to work.”
“Yes, Sarge.” He took a quick look at the scandalized young woman receiving her baby from the young superhero before sticking the phone in his pocket.
“Both of you, listen up. We’re up to Condition Bravo on account of the camel thing. If you don’t have to go outside the wire, don’t. If you do, you probably don’t. If you absolutely do, it’s buddy system and civvies only. Chatter is the Boom Bros are planning to make some noise.”
“No surprise there, Staff Sergeant.” Matt saved his changes and twisted his chair to look at Kohn. “Oh, my apologies, Gunny. I didn’t realize Santa came early.” He stood at attention.
Joe blinked at Kohn’s arm before the second rocker came into view. “Gunnery Sergeant Kohn on deck.” He jumped up and stood at attention.
“At ease, gentlemen. I just got my shirt back from the NEX. Wish I’d have had it for the Christmas video, but better late than never. I got the USO folks to take some shots I could email home.”
“Oorah, Gunny.” Major Melrose stepped out of his office. “Did I hear you mention the Boom Bros?”
Kohn snapped to. “Yes, sir. We’re at FPCON Bravo over chatter and general unrest.”
“Well, I hope nobody had plans. If you did, cancel them. From what I’m hearing, we’re likely to escalate to Charlie the minute somebody in town twitches.”
“Yes, sir,” Matt said. “quiet night at home.”
“All dressed up and nowhere to go, sir.” Joe said.
“Strictly friendly territory, Major.” Gunny Kohn said.
“Hey, Dustin.” Eric stepped into the day room with a printout.
Dustin had finished washing the team’s dishes and was towel-drying them. “Hey, Eric. What’s that?”
“Good news.”
“I’ll just bet.” He grabbed a handful of silverware and sorted the pieces into the drawer.
“No more TurboTeen.”
Mister Awesomeness slid his phone into his pocket and leaned forward to listen in.
“Okay, that’s a good start.” Dustin closed the drawer and opened a cabinet to stack the bowls. “What now?”
“Zoomer!”
Dustin shook his head. “Really? That’s the best they could do?”
“It was a close tie between Zoomer and ZoomBoy, but that sounds like zombie if you say it fast.”
MA thrust back into his chair and cackled. “There was a movie about animal zombies called Zoombies! Dude, pick that one. Be ZoomBoy!”
Dustin facepalmed. “How about neither? Who are they polling here? Some junior high for criminal delinquents?”
“You really want to stick with TurboTeen?”
“I want to know what came in third.”
“SugarBomb.” MA cackled and convulsed.
“No, it was NitroLad.” Eric planted his fists on his hips.
Megaman stepped in from the hall doorway. “Uh-oh, what’s got him going?”
“ZoomBoy!” MA rolled in his chair.
MM grimaced. “You’re not doing that. Are you?”
“The polling says he should go with Zoomer.” Eric shrugged.
MM shook his head. “Who are they polling? The drunk tank? Jeez.”
“Thank you.” Dustin stacked bowls in the cabinet.
Gary screwed the gas cap into place and snapped the fuel door shut. He tucked his hands into his coat pockets and trudged into the Grab & Go. He didn’t know what he wanted, but he wanted something.
‘No point in getting a sandwich. Abby should be done with dinner when I get home.’ He scanned the wall of refrigerated beverages. ‘Eggnog Zaviccino? Why not?’
He swung the bottle carelessly at his side while he studied the donut cabinet. ‘Dinner will be cold ‘til you figure out what you’re after. Go home already.’ That made his chest tighten.
Another pass just to say he’d looked carefully. A conscious choice not to grab the Boston Cream donut with the cherry on top and the holly leaf drawn in green icing. Off to the cashier.
Gary noticed someone parked behind him, waiting for the pump. A pang of guilt, but it wasn’t his fault the cashier was going slow. This one wants cigarettes. That one’s trying to cash a check. ‘Who writes checks anymore?’ The guy in front of him managed to find the chips with the barcode that won’t scan. Beep, beep, beep… ‘Oh, my Lord! Just type in the UPC code already.’
He glared at the chip guy as he stepped up to the cashier.
“Did you find everything you were looking for?”
Gary handed her the bottle, but it slipped out of their hands and shattered at her feet. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry, um…” He looked for her nameplate.
Tracy
His breath stuck in his throat. “Sorry. Sorry about that.”
She looked at him. “Did you want to grab another one?”
“No.” His voice was raspy. ‘No, I’ve never wanted another one. She was irreplaceable.’ He turned and left.
The biting wind carried just enough moisture to ensure pockets of black ice on the drive home. He started the Bronco and gunned the heat. He waited for it to fill the cabin with warmth before leaving. The guy who had been parked behind him had found an open pump.
He wasn’t in anyone’s way.
He just needed a moment to…
“Isidore.”
“Good afternoon, Gary. Your voice sounds hoarse. Do you have any lozenges with you? If not, the Grab & Go has a variety of medicinal options and hard candies that may help.”
“I don’t need candy.” He sniffled. “I need my wife. Why did God take her from me?”
“Gary, I may be named after a saint, but I cannot presume to know or understand the will of God. Would you like me to place a call to Father Nowak?”
“He doesn’t know what to say, either. Nobody does.”
The Bronco pulled away from the pump and found its way to the street.
“Gary, you may not be in the best frame of mind for driving.”
“Isidore.”
“Gary?”
“I need some time to myself now.”
Silence eluded him.
The rumble of the engine, the squeak of wipers dragging on the damp windshield, the sound of his own sniffling intruded on the solitude he sought.
The steeple of St. Cas peeked over the trees.
He sighed.
In a moment, he was in his spot. Turning the key, the buffeting wind replaced the mechanical noises.
Still no silence.
He studied the glass façade of the narthex. He might find peace, but he wouldn’t find quiet.
Gary pocketed his keys and pressed the lock button on the door. The wind threatened to steal the hat from his head. He planted a hand atop his head and hurried inside.
Through the narthex to the nave. Fingers in the holy water. Brief genuflection and knees on a kneeler.
To his surprise, there was silence.
Tracy.
There was silence where Tracy was supposed to be. He barely remembered her.
He rarely remembered to remember her.
Raising Abby had been everything until…
He pulled a pack of tissues from his coat pocket, struggling to pluck one free without unraveling the whole pile. Clever folding ensured that they deployed sequentially.
How many had he pulled to dry Abby’s tears, blow her nose, wipe away dirt over the years?
Tracy would have done that if she could, but she didn’t make it.
The labor was hard.
There were complications.
Abby lived her entire life without a mom.
Gary tried to be everything Abby needed, but she needed a mom.
He could have remarried, but that felt like betrayal.
Bad enough she didn’t live to be Abby’s mom without replacing the very memory of her, but now he struggled to remember.
That felt like betrayal, too.
‘Better to pretend you’re honoring her memory while memory fades to nothing.’
It had gotten to where he couldn’t even see Tracy in Abby anymore.
He could see it more clearly when she was younger.
Abby’s smile, her sense of wonder, her mischievous sense of humor, all inherited from Tracy.
He tried to make her life as perfect as possible.
She seemed to appreciate it.
Another tissue.
Dad, I need to tell you something.
His heart stopped.
‘How could she?’
He clenched his hands tight, staring at the crucifix behind the altar.
Sunday School, CCD, Confirmation. She understood. She was a good girl.
She was expecting.
Tracy said that too.
Gary, I need to tell you something.
Something beautiful.
Something devastating.
Trading a wife for a daughter wasn’t part of the deal.
He was going to run out of tissues at this rate.
Dad, I need to tell you something.
Am I going to trade a daughter for a grandchild?
Could God actually be that cruel?
He wiped tears away and slid from the pew.
Sniffling as he genuflected, Gary noticed the woodcut by Mr. Wojciech embedded in the pillar. He wandered over to take a closer look.
The Holy Mother holding Jesus the way Abby held Teddy.
That look of loving serenity.
Tracy should have had that.
Not even for a second.
She was gone before Abby drew her first breath.
‘Not fair.’ He turned away and hurried out of the church.
More holy water before crossing the narthex to the glass doors.
‘My spot?’
The wind shook the doors. Droplets of frigid rain and tiny crystals of ice traced across the glass in a hundred directions, whipped by the maelstrom.
The parking lot was empty but for the Bronco.
In his spot.
His spot?
‘Why wouldn’t you just park up front? There’s nobody here.’
That thought disturbed him more than the thought of stepping out into the freezing gale.
There’s nobody here.
He zipped his coat up tight under his chin and squinted to prepare for the icy slap awaiting him.
Gary had spent decades out in weather like this, never giving it a second thought.
His slacks were saturated, despite the weatherproofing.
By the time he was back in the driver’s seat, he was soaked and shivering.
The engine rumbled, and the wind lashed the vehicle with icy spray and sheets of water. With the wipers on high, the windshield was still awash between strokes.
The phone rang. He pressed the green button on his steering wheel.
“Dad, where are you?”
“Just down the block, honey. I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Okay, take your time. It sounds awful out there.”
“Yeah, it’s not great. See you soon.”
“Love you, Dad.” He could hear Teddy giggling in the background before the call dropped.
“Love you, too.”
She wasn’t on the line, but it needed to be said.
Dad, I need to tell you something.
Even though his heart stopped.
Even though he dreaded what might come.
Even though he feared the cycle would repeat.
It needed to be said, so he said it.
‘I love you.’
In the end, that’s all that ever really mattered.
Even if God was not at church tonight, He was waiting for Gary at home with a warm supper and a giggling baby.
Gary was not Abby’s mom, no matter how hard he tried.
Abby was not Teddy’s dad, no matter how much she evaded.
‘Maybe that’s the pattern I should have prepared for.’
His grip tightened on the steering wheel.
‘What kind of guy leaves a pregnant girl to fend for herself?’
His teeth ground as he pulled into his parking space.
‘Who is this jerk and how do I get Abby to tell me?’
Gary took a deep breath to brace himself for the dash to the kitchen door. He knew it didn’t matter. He was already soaked, tired, miserable.
The kitchen was bright, warm and smelled of rich beef gravy.
“That smells incredible. What’s on?” He took his hat off and shook it over the towels she’d laid out for him.
“It seemed like a really good day for pot roast.” She helped him hang his coat. “Boy, you’re soaked. Go change and I’ll make you a plate.”
He kissed her cheek before removing his boots. “Thanks, I’ll be right back.”
She shooed him out of the kitchen.
‘It doesn’t matter who Teddy’s dad is. He doesn’t deserve her or him.’ Gary glanced at the TV as he crossed the living room. ‘Postcards from the service.’ A sailor smiled from the screen as he wished holiday greetings to his family in Frisco.
As Gary turned the corner to his bedroom, he missed the sailor giving way to a Marine in dress blues. The banner at the bottom of the screen read: Cpl. Matthew S. Jozsa, Laurel Ridge, PW.