I’m writing a creative nonfiction book about woman named Elaine Stec. She was 21 and died in Buffalo, NY in 1970. She went on a date with Gino Albini and witnessed the death of Thomas Trent. Could she be trusted to stay quiet? In the tumultuous time, during the Vietnam war, the American student’s were protesting and Buffalo, NY was no different. Follow Elaine as she takes you through a tragedy that repeats itself since the time of Antigone.
Trial Chapter – 30
June 2, 1970 AM
“Ohio” by Crosby Still and Nash played on the clock radio when Elaine opened her eyes. Her consciousness mingled with the lyrics, invoking instant tears. The thought of Thomas Trent’s death and Gino’s threats, weighing her down, bubbled to awakeness. She listened as pictures of students, the protestors, the soldiers, and an image of the women dying flew in her mind. She could not help but think unthinkable thoughts. The guilt of whether to confess buried her. If she could just escape these men. The Vietnam War protest canceled classes and graduation. Elaine’s life was in limbo when she thought it would progress ahead and out of this chaos that dreaded night in November created. She tried to create order in the past months, but it was not enough to soothe her conscience.
The weatherman’s voice announced, “A 51-year-old record high temperature for June 2 was expected to be challenged today by hot, muggy weather carrying temperatures near 90 degrees followed by cooling showers late this evening. The temperature of Lake Erie continues to rise at 54 degrees.”
Elaine turned off the radio. She sat at her desk, her stomach queasy, thinking of the November night that changed her life. She flicked on the slow-moving fan, but the heat gathered in her tiny room with the one window, forcing Elaine to flee and go outside to the backyard, where Eleanor unpinned the crisp sheets from the clothesline.
Elaine plopped down into the lawn chair, watching her mother work.
Elaine, come and help me. You should be doing this for yourself, who knows, maybe for a family one day.”
“No, I won’t.”
Eleanor let out a long sigh, allowing her arching arms to drop by her side.
“Oh, Enuit Elaine, I remember thinking the same thing while watching Grandma struggle. I can’t wait to see what you will do with your life. What dreams may become you? Whether you are a sleuthing reporter or a brilliant teacher, you will have a beautiful life. And one day, you may want sunkissed sheets for yourself, maybe your family. And when you take off the pins and drop them into the basket, maybe you will remember my fingers and the fingers of Grandma’s,” Eleanor’s voice was filled with hope and optimism for Elaine’s future.
Elaine got up from the chair, poised. She walked barefoot into the yard. Tipping toeing to reach the pin. She yanked it off. “I do have Grandma’s hands,” she realized, feeling a deep sense of connection and continuity with her family.
“You do. Now, walk down there. We need to get this sheet real tight before folding it.” They folded the sheet with practiced precision, each movement a testament to their shared experience. As they tightened it out before folding it in half again, Elaine felt a sense of calm wash over her. Eleanor walked into Elaine before releasing it for Elaine to finish. Elaine buried her head into the sheet and inhaled. The thought of sleeping in the clean sheets excited her, a simple pleasure in the midst of her turbulent emotions.