The Nomination:

I love good missing scenes and vignettes, especially when they draw out the thoughts and emotions that just can't come through on the screen, or when they vividly tell the backstory that gives an episode so much more depth than can be accomplished in less than an hour. Jill's vignette Did She or Didn't She? is a brilliant piece, told from Jack's perspective, that focuses on the difficult emotional issues between him and Sue during this tumultuous episode. Her attention to detail made it a perfect example of a great vignette, and I'm very proud to recommend it to the Showcase!

“Ask her”. It wasn’t a suggestion. It wasn’t even a request. It was an unemotional directive that interrupted the objection coming from deep inside her. Her words stumbled to a halt as I tilted my head, indicating “now”. She hesitated, an uneasiness showing in her eyes. Shifting her weight, she began to sign. Lips firmly set, her frustration evident, she thrust her finger towards me, indicating that this question was my doing, and mine alone. Unknowing to her, that motion pierced my soul. She finished signing the question, and added one of her own. Remaining impassive, I watched Carol’s response. No, her husband hadn’t abused her. For that, I needed no interpretation.

Why is it that I get into these uncomfortable situations with Sue? It’s been happening more often, too. I tried to get out of going to the Deaf Poetry Reading, spewing a less than honest excuse. It backfired, and I paid “the wages of sin”. Despite my lack-luster response to the event, she forgave me. A few days later, she even called me “brilliant” for knowing she wanted to go to Georgetown to check on Carol. I like “brilliant.” Now Carol’s husband has fallen overboard, and Sue wants my help. This isn’t even an FBI case. But, telling Sue “no” to getting involved is rather fruitless. My angle of questioning has taken Sue by surprise. In an attempt to smooth over what just took place, I explain that Carol wouldn’t be the first abuse victim to take drastic action to change circumstances in her life. But, no matter how gently I put it, Sue’s face mirrors her thoughts. Even with ‘D’ backing me, I know I am not making any headway.


Our relationship is complicated, at best. I will be the first to admit that I enjoy being with Sue, and often look for opportunities for us to be together. We take a lot of good natured ribbing from our co-workers, and from each other. The “marriage-divorce-affair” joke gets kicked around quite a bit. Hoover Building gossip about us gets to our ears every now and then, too, mostly as a result of that infamous undercover kiss...the kiss that forever changed the balance in our relationship. As much as I enjoy being with her, lately there have been times when the balance shifts, and I somehow find myself holding her at arms length…her innocence and naivety, almost frustrating. Her pure and gentle heart; too fragile for my words. This distance; uncomfortable, at best, for her…equally difficult for me. I can read the uncertainty in her eyes, in her posture. I try to hide my own feelings behind a blank face. I wonder if my eyes reflect what I see in hers.

We are at Carol’s. She has finally admitted that Ted abused her. There are a few questions still left unanswered. Despite the reaction I know it will bring, I ask Sue to sign that we understand how terrible the situation must have been…and that it would almost be understandable if she felt so desperate that she needed to do something in order to stop it. With eyebrows raised, eyes suddenly void and dark, Sue responds as if I have taken away every ounce of her strength…slumping back, deflated, just staring. I tilt my head and motion with my eyes, indicating that it is what I need her to sign. I hate when she looks away from me. Meeting no one’s gaze, she begins to sign. The distance grows.

It’s a new day. I had tossed and turned all night, haunted by visions of anger, pain and guilt. Having parents that love and respect each other, the world of abuse was non-existent for me. My first taste of it came during college. One of my roommates beat his girlfriend and put her in the hospital. She hadn’t gone to his game, so he “taught her a lesson.” At first, none of us believed it really happened that way. I struggled with it for a long time. How anyone could feel that this was okay was beyond me. I knew Sue was going through the same emotional turmoil, and probably hadn’t gotten much sleep. So, this morning, when a call came in from a friend in the Coast Guard that raised suspicions about Ted’s death, I quickly put in a call to Lucy, asking that Sue be ready in 15 minutes. Here she is. With coffee in hand, I anxiouly wait as she approaches the car. She looks amazing. She smiles, and answers my question, admitting she hadn’t had much sleep. Eagerly sharing the new information with her, I hand her the coffee and begin to drive. Today there is a connection. The distance is gone, the tension lifted. I wonder if she’s noticed. We’re in matching blue…my shirt and tie, and her sweater…her delicate cross necklace gracing the V neckline. For the first time in days, our conversation is light, and we are in agreement. Her smile invigorates me.

It doesn’t last long. Back at the Bullpen, the conversation comes back to Carol’s situation. While explaining the possibility that Ted faked his death, questions arise. As ‘D’ responds to the “Why” question, my fingers subconsciously press the bridge of my nose. I know what is coming. I release the pressure, and carefully choose my next words. “Which brings us to question number 2…” “I don’t think Carol knew” is out of Sue’s mouth before I even finish. Without thinking, I quietly shoot back, “I had a feeling you might say that.” The tension in the air is thick; we both sigh. Not again. Why won’t she listen? I can’t even look at her. ‘D’ agrees with me, building a strong case that Carol and Ted have this planned. I can't help but feel a little flippant as I acknowledge his theory with a tip of my hand. Yet, Sue doesn’t give up. With fear and pain in her eyes, she speaks of the realness of Carol’s abuse, and refuses to allow her to be condemned to that life. She wants to go see Carol again. I agree for my own reasons. I don’t know how it will pan out, but for Sue’s sake, I hope she is right.

We drive to Georgetown in silence, every now and then stealing a glance. The set of her jaw, the troubled expression in her eyes betray the thoughts in her mind. I focus on the traffic and finish the drive. Getting out of the car, I start to walk toward the house, not waiting for Sue. As I adjust my suitcoat, I glance to see if she is coming. She’s a step behind me. For the moment she is disconnected, lost in her own thoughts, eyes cast downward. Her unexpected touch to my arm, as she says my name, sends a current right through me. Her touch so unnerves me at times. In an instant, I feel the tension flow from my body, only to have it instantly replaced with a rush of adrenaline. Blood is on the pavement. As I pull my gun, I tell her to call ‘’D’.

What do you do when you know you were wrong? And I was wrong, again. One thing I have noticed; she never gloats…rubs my face in it. It doesn’t change how guilty I feel. Is it a distrust of human nature that places me on opposite sides from her? Is it a knee jerk reaction to her uncanny ability to take people at their word? Her compassion never ceases to amaze me. Here we stand in the hospital, listening to Carol. Sue interprets for me. Carol’s husband thought it was his God-given right to control her. How could she have believed that? What is it within ourselves that causes us to doubt our own convictions? In a fleeting moment, I wonder about the control. Do I try to control Sue? Is this wherein our conflict lies? Where is the line? Sue is speaking as she signs, drawing me back…not wanting to leave me out of the conversation. “God tells men to love their wives like Christ loves the church.” She is right. There is no room for violence. Carol responds, saying that all she could do was pray. Sue reaches out and holds her hand. I am overwhelmed. Eyes misty, I turn to the one that I know means more to me than I dare to think. “I guess you were the answer to those prayers.” Our eyes meet and a thousand unspoken words pass between us. She reaches out and takes my arm, drawing us closer together, eyes aglow. I wonder at the magic of her, and dare to believe.

You can find this story, and all of Jill's other stories here in her archive page. Comments are always welcome!