Suicide watch

She seems normal, a slender black girl. Not attractive, quiet. Embarrassed? Ashamed maybe? Or just shy? I don’t talk to her. I know it’s wrong, but what can you say? “Hey, I hear you couldn’t take it out there? But don’t worry, I’m sure there are plenty of other jobs you could do.” I make myself busy as she stares ahead.

She’ll be leaving tomorrow on the Medevac rotator out of BIAP. Until then we’ve been instructed not to leave her alone, not even for a minute. All she does all day is look at the computer screen... not surfing, not emailing, just staring. When she goes to the bathroom one of the two females on the floor have to escort her - they don't like that because the door to the stall has to be open even when she pees.

Her friends come by throughout the day to say good bye. Some bring small gifts, tokens of friendships cut short. Mostly just magazines or snacks, stuff for the flight. Their conversations are quiet, uncomfortable. Like she’s no longer one of them... no longer one of “us.”

Or maybe, they see a little too much of her in themselves.