Keep Forever

by Alexa Kingaard

  She thought how unnecessary it was for him to say who was calling. She knew his voice well, even though it sounded flat, unemotional, and sad. Funny how a few words can create such distance between two people who have known each other half a lifetime.

  “Met with the doctor today . . . hard. I hate this, Elizabeth. I don’t want to be here. I’m sorry . . .” Paul’s voice trailed off, as though he had turned his head from the mouthpiece and was speaking into thin air. “How are Rex and Lily? Can you call me back? We can get phone calls till nine.”

  Elizabeth immediately dialed the number she had written down earlier and pinned to the kitchen wall with a thumbtack. A stranger’s voice answered on the other end and she remembered it was a public telephone. Any patient was free to answer while drifting past, a weak link to their outside worlds. “May I speak with Paul O’Brien, please?”

  She heard the phone drop and clatter against the wall. She hoped it meant that whoever answered would go find Paul. She waited. It seemed like forever. How long should I listen to the silence before giving up and trying again in the morning? Elizabeth was agitated, tired, and in no mood to be left dangling.

  Finally, the muffled sounds of someone picking up the receiver broke the stillness. Don’t hang up, whoever you are; please don’t hang up.

  “Elizabeth, you called.” Paul’s voice melted the tension and a grateful wave of relief washed over her.

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “Who else would it be? I’m so glad you called, Elizabeth. I’m so sorry for what I’m putting you and the kids through.”

  “Hush. You’re here. You’re still with us. That’s all we care about.”

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” Paul’s voice cracked.

  “Paul, it’s okay. Please . . . get some sleep tonight and know we love you. I’ll bring the kids this Sunday and I’ll come visit tomorrow when they’re in school. That’ll give us plenty of time to talk.”

  “That sounds nice. I’ll be here.”

  “See . . . nice attempt at humor, Paul. I know where to find you.”

  Paul leaned against the cold, hospital wall, and clutched the receiver like a lifeline. “Love you, Elizabeth . . . see you tomorrow. Kiss Lily and Rex good night for me.”

  “I will. Sleep well. Love you.” Elizabeth softly returned the phone to the cradle and, overcome with sorrow, sobbed until her tears ran dry.

  )

  Paul was impatient for his first group therapy session to end. It was a relief when the hour was over and he could see Elizabeth. Although part of him was filled with dread and remorse, he felt a long-forgotten tingle of joy and anticipation, knowing she would soon be there to confirm how much she still loved him. He wanted to ask for her forgiveness, he wanted to share one candid, honest conversation, and thank her for living her life with such an undeserving soul. Dr. Worthington had made the point that Elizabeth wouldn’t know anything unless he told her. Without questioning where this sudden courage was coming from, he gathered his thoughts and strength to utter them out loud, hoping words would flow effortlessly once they were in each other’s presence.

  Paul was sitting outside the front entrance when Elizabeth arrived. He wore a pair of green hospital pajamas, a white terry cloth robe, and the slippers without the backs that he never liked because they were hard to keep on his feet when he walked. She smiled and mentally noted to bring him some clothes when she returned for the next visit.

  Paul looked tired and strained, but returned the smile ever so slightly as he stood to greet her. Their silent embrace dissolved the anger and resentment that had been building in Elizabeth’s mind. She gently leaned in for a kiss, soft as it was powerful, no words necessary to prove their devotion to one another and their resolve to face this battle together for a lifetime, if that’s what it would take.

  “Elizabeth, you look so wonderful.”

  “You sure about that? I’m not feeling so wonderful, but I couldn’t wait to see you, Paul. My thoughts have been pretty jumbled since the other night. Do you mind if we sit on the bench in the sun spot? It’s so nice to have a little sunshine follow us in January.”

  Wordlessly, Paul trailed Elizabeth toward the sun’s warmth. Once settled, he turned to her. “I have to tell you some things. I’m sorry, I don’t want to ruin our visit. I don’t want to make you worry about me anymore. If I don’t tell you, I’m afraid I’ll never get better, I’ll become a useless old fool and destroy all of you.”

  Elizabeth sensed the urgency, and even though she was wondering why this was the moment Paul chose to open up, she didn’t question his intentions. “Okay. I’m good with that Paul. You can tell me anything. You always could.”

  “I want you to know I’ve had nightmares almost from the moment I got home from Vietnam.”

  “I know. I was there, remember? In the apartment right after Sam and I got to California.”

  “I remember. You left a note under my pillow. That was the second time I fell in love with you. The first time was when I met you at the airport. Why did this damn war have to ruin everything for us, Elizabeth?” Paul let the momentum guide him to the point he was trying to make.

  “It was a slaughterhouse, Elizabeth. I’ll never be able to shake those visions. Whether it was the enemy or one of our own. Watching a human being take his last breath, final words hanging in midair, eyes wide with horror and pain, trying to utter goodbye to their mothers, wives, or children until their hearts stopped beating. No one but another combat veteran can understand.”

  Paul looked down, his heart heavy with guilt and remorse. His eyes trained on an ant struggling to carry a breadcrumb four times its size across a maze of broken concrete and fallen leaves. You’re gonna make it back home, aren’t you? That’s a lot of weight for one little guy to carry. Paul saw a line of ants forming, marching toward the overburdened member of their tribe. A family of ants, for God’s sake. They’re family. I’ll never dismiss these small creatures ever again. How selfish could I have been?

  For a moment, Paul forgot why he was there, and he continued to stare in silence at the pint-sized drama unfolding beneath his feet. He laid his hand on the warm bench, a breath away from Elizabeth’s, and waited. She must hate me. Now she must really hate me.

  Elizabeth did the only thing she could do, determined not to cry in front of Paul. She grasped his hand in hers, squeezed every so often in a silent gesture of support, and hoped he would squeeze back. She thought if she looked at him any longer, she would be able to penetrate his skin, muscle, and bone, and actually see his heart breaking into pieces inside his chest. She felt robbed at that moment. Robbed of the present and the future, and sensing the real struggle only beginning. No matter what kind of medication they prescribed Paul, the faceless monster that his nightmares were made of would exist in their lives, in Rex and Lily’s lives, for many years to come.

  “You don’t have to say any more, Paul. I can see how upsetting it is for you to talk about this out loud. I know enough. I can’t say I totally understand. I don’t. But we’re in this together. We’re family.” She rested her head on his shoulder and cherished the peaceful interlude before having to rush to pick up Rex and Lily after school.

  Paul abruptly changed the subject. “You let Sam know?”

  “I did, right away. He’s as devastated as the rest of us.”

  “Probably thinks I’m a coward, a quitter, a weakling.”

  “He thinks no such thing. He offered to come out, but I asked him to wait. I’ll keep him posted. It’s too soon.”

  “At least he has some idea, maybe. Hospital in Da Nang was no picnic.”

  “You were there, Paul. I can only imagine.”

  “No, you can’t. It was touch and go with your brother for days. I can’t tell you how many times he said he wished the bullet had gone through his heart, instead of his hand, and he’d died on the battlefield. Once they took his hand, he didn’t want to be here either.”

>   Elizabeth shook her head and remembered how furious she was almost two decades ago when her brother had deserted her family and joined the Marines. Now she only felt sadness as she recalled those dark episodes in her childhood, totally beyond her control. “I got letters and he never said anything like that to me. I thought whatever he overcame was gone forever.”

  “Never gone, Elizabeth, just buried. Sam’s done a better job than me. He never thought about taking the chicken way out.”

  “Well, maybe he has, but we don’t know. Let’s not talk about this anymore.” Elizabeth glanced at her watch. “Only thirty minutes before school’s out. I don’t want to be late picking up the kids. Just sit with me until I have to leave.”

  “I only wanted to say I’m so sorry for the other night. I couldn’t leave you, Rex, Lily . . .” Paul pressed Elizabeth’s hand in his. That’s all she wanted, connection, an unspoken commitment.

  “Can you forgive me?”

  “I already have, Paul. I already have.”

  Chapter 27

  That winter, heavy rains brought a carpet of lush grass, colorful bushes, a variety of leafing trees, and a bounty of new blooms to the garden. Along with the spring cleaning consuming most weekends for Elizabeth and the children, there came a sense of renewal and anticipation of Paul’s homecoming. The fresh coat of paint in every room was soft, soothing, and relaxing. The cupboards had new hardware, and Elizabeth made new curtains for the living room, dining room, and kitchen. It was just enough to feel refreshed and spotless, and as much as she would have loved new carpeting and appliances, the disability payment from Paul’s hospitalization was barely adequate to get by. She knew the time would come where she would have to go back to work and, although they talked about it during her daily visits, not much was decided. It was better left for another time.

  She remembered the difficulty of Paul’s first week in the hospital and how grateful she was for how far they had come. The children were too young to understand the underlying gravity of the situation but Lily, especially, made sure not one day went by without writing a letter, drawing a picture, or sharing a short conversation with her daddy on the phone. Rex, pragmatic and accepting, visited with his mother and sister every Saturday and Sunday afternoon. He looked forward to the indoor basketball court that was attached to the inpatient ward. Although he stayed close to his father, he was a favorite of the patients and nurses as he momentarily distracted them with a super-charged, energetic game of basketball. The activity brightened Paul’s mood and, along with the proper medications, he was able to participate with his family and slowly regain his sense of humor.

  It was a double-edged sword when Elizabeth visited. She could not shake the vision of the night she’d brought Paul to the hospital, and what their lives might be like if he had not changed his mind. Her weekday visits were often spent finding a sunny spot in the community living room, and simply holding Paul’s hand and looking at his face. There you are, she would think. I see you, I see light, I see life, I see my dear, sweet Paul.” She could barely wait for the day he was well enough to join them back home. She saw a vast improvement within weeks, but Paul’s doctors felt he needed more therapy, rest, and continued monitoring of his medications.

  In one therapy session, the doctor shared about how more and more Vietnam veterans had the same symptoms Paul displayed, and studies were being conducted as to the best and safest path to successful treatment. Beyond this one mention, the subject was never brought up again, and no further consideration was given to the fact that he shared a condition with countless others who had survived the war. Instead, a variety of medications were used to treat Paul as an inpatient so he could be closely monitored for side effects.

  After two months, Paul was given a brand-new anti-depressant, recently approved by the FDA. The results were astounding. Most notable of all, Paul requested a radio for his room and, once more, the music played. Music had always been the barometer for Paul’s mood, and within weeks of beginning this new medication, Dr. Worthington decided Paul was ready to go home. Ready to resume his life. His winter of despair was over.

  “You’ll need follow-up visits and close monitoring for the next twelve months, Paul. But I think you’re ready. Call Elizabeth and let her know.”

  “Thanks, Doc. I can handle it.”

  The two men joined in a strong, steady handshake. Dr. Worthington spoke, “I haven’t said anything to you before, but I need to now. Thank you for your service, Paul.”

  “No problem, Doc . . . no problem.” Paul’s face broke into a wide smile as he exited Dr. Worthington’s office for the last time.

  )

  The sun came out early and the day was already warming when Elizabeth and the children approached the Psychiatric Inpatient Ward that had been Paul’s home for three months. She knew there might be a delay in releasing him since, as with most hospitals, timing was never exact. She brought snacks and bottles of juice, coloring books, crayons, and a deck of cards to keep Rex and Lily busy and distracted in case there was a long wait before their Paul was discharged.

  Hand in hand, marching through the front doors, a glowing, happy trio rushed to the front desk. “We are here to take my daddy home!” Barely tall enough to peek over the counter, much less see who she might be talking to, Lily felt a slight tap on her shoulder. Turning around, Paul bent over to greet her, lifting her into his arms, and making room for the whole family to encircle him.

  The man that had taken leave as a damaged, hollow, bleak shell had returned to them standing straight, alive, and alert, those blue eyes once again filled with hope, joy, and contentment.

  “Hey Son, would you mind asking the nurse to get my radio from the room. It’s the one thing I forgot to pack.”

  Rex reminded him, “Dad, we already have a radio in the kitchen. Do we need more?”

  “Leave it for the next man who needs music.” Lily was serious as she peered intently at her Daddy’s face.

  “What do you think, Paul? Should we take the radio or do you want to leave it behind?” Elizabeth didn’t care one way or another but was curious for Paul’s response.

  “Leave it. I have all the music I need right here.” Lily rested her head comfortably on her daddy’s shoulder, Rex flanked his left side, and Elizabeth his right as they strode outside into the bright sunshine.

  “Let’s go to McDonald’s for lunch.” Rex never missed an opportunity.

  “I’ve been dreaming about a Big Mac for three months. You’re on,” said Paul. One single teardrop rolled down his cheek, a visual display of his determination to remain a healthy husband and father for his family, who had already experienced more than their fair share of the burden he’d brought home.

  Chapter 28

  As that first summer after Paul came home from the hospital faded, the family took advantage of one last barbecue in the expansive backyard. Finally able to return to his job, his fellow employees welcomed him with words of support and encouragement. Most of the summer toys were back in storage and the weekend was spent gathering school supplies, plus a few pieces of new clothing for Rex and Lily. In Southern California, mothers agreed it was senseless to rush out and buy hundreds of dollars’ worth of fall outfits, as September and October were some of the hottest months of the year. Even though the girls begged for new sweaters and the boys convinced themselves they wanted to look like everyone else, by the end of the first week, they were back in their summer T-shirts. Expensive jackets were abandoned on campus, and thick flannel shirts were folded neatly at the bottom of drawers, out of sight, until one or two rainy days in the middle of the winter months necessitated warmer clothing.

  Rex and Paul had rigged a stereo system leading from the back of the house to the patio, and a stack of cassettes was kept by the back door. Though the vinyl collection lovingly maintained by Paul swallowed one whole section of the living room, he had switched to buying cassettes, accepting the convenience they provided for moving music from the
living room to the car. As Eric Clapton filled in the background, Paul and Rex were deep in conversation at the grill.

  Rex was almost as tall as his father, and with one more year of grade school, seemed a bit more grown up than most boys his age. Quiet, polite, and unassuming, he never had a knack for sports and didn’t care to pursue most of the athletic activities offered by the school, parks and recreation, or off-campus clubs. He seemed content to warm the bench during recess as opposed to joining the fray of preadolescent boys, explaining that all they did was knock each other down and call each other names, or worse yet, call other people names.

  “I don’t need any more friends,” he would tell his mother when she voiced concern about his shyness and isolation. “I can play with whoever I want, but I like listening to music on my headphones instead. Mr. Davis says it’s okay as long as I put it in my backpack when we go back in the classroom.” Elizabeth eventually let the matter drop and Paul convinced her there was nothing wrong with being neither a leader nor a follower, but an individual. Rex certainly was that. She was grateful for a calm, healthy husband and two happy children.

  )

  “Here, take the burgers,” Paul motioned to Rex as he shut down the grill and checked twice to make sure every burner was off. “I like your idea and we can run it by your mom and Lily over dinner.” With salads, drinks, chips, plates, and napkins already at the table, they strolled over with the sizzling hamburgers and buns.

  “Ice cream cones for dessert,” said Elizabeth, as everyone got comfortable and started to plate their favorite meal together.

  “Rex and I had a thought,” Paul announced, as he methodically prepared his burger, one item at a time. Mayonnaise first, but not too much. Just enough for the bread to stay soft and easy to swallow. Next, a thin slice of tomato followed by one slice of American cheese. Only American cheese, never cheddar, or Swiss, or anything fancy. Finally, the burger. This ritual could take fifteen minutes or more. Elizabeth and the children had long since gotten used to the diligence with which Paul did anything, the care he displayed in the simplest of tasks. More often than not, everyone else had already finished dinner before Paul tasted his first bite, but it had become an endearing, rather than annoying, trait that everyone joked about, including Paul.