Marcus In Iraq

by Sonia Rumzi

  "Then why this? Why could you not be honest with me," cried the woman, hurting.

  Marcus would not meet her eyes as she searched his.

  "I think you should move with your Mother. You can go there while I am in Iraq. I leave in a few weeks and you can move closer to her and she can take care of you."

  "Do not presume to tell me what to do Marcus Johnson. I already talked to my Mother and she invited me to come as she always had."

  "Good! Then what're you arguin' about?"

  "I am just reminding you that you have no control over what I do from now on. Do not presume to tell me what to do."

  They glared at each other.

  "I have not had enough good times yet. I miss my life that you seem to take over. I want to have more fun."

  "And you choose that girl to have fun with Marcus. She dressed like a floozy."

  "Yes, she does. And she paints her face. She wears outrageous clothes and big earrings. She is not my wife, she is having fun. She knows how to have fun."

  "We have children Marcus. Not much time for that."

  "You were never like that. You don't know how to have fun."

  "I used to in college but I am much too old now for this kind of fun. I do not find it fun anymore. And I have children now."

  "Well, I haven't had that kind o' fun Miss Graduate from College," he mimicked pushing his chair and standing up. "Not everyone had the opportunities that you had," he flung with bitter anger.

  "You can go to college Marcus."

  "Yeah, sure. While I take care of you and two kids."

  "Well, that will not be a problem anymore Marcus. My Mother said that she will take care of all the expenses."

  "I take care of my responsibilities," said the man insulted and angry. "Those are my children, and I take care of my own."

  "We are not your own. You lost that privilege when you brought another woman in the house. To the house your family lives in Marcus. How could you defile our bed like that?"

  "Get off your high horse! Even the way you speak irritates the hell out of me. Who do you think you are? Princess Diana or something?"

  In the end when he looked at his mate, he realized the pain he caused. He saw all the contentment leeching out of her features. Anxiety and loss radiated from the habitual peaceful face. It wrenched his heart but he stayed on his side of the table resolved to end this for good.

  "Staff Sergeant," he heard coming out of his reverie.

  "What?"

  "There's movement outside. Should I check it out?"

  "Jimmy, get down here," said Marcus pulling the boy down before he opened the hatch and got his head blown off. "How many times am I going to say to stay down?"

  Several times before, Marcus and his battalion were ambushed down an empty street as they rumbled down in their tanks. This was just another street where the residents hid until the row completed and they attacked, sandwiching them on either side. He looked in his scope communicating his orders to the other tanks as they moved down the street.

  "We're in motion again," said a voice over the radio.

  They heard firing somewhere further down and Marcus yelled in the headset.

  "Where's this firing coming from? Who's firing? Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" he screamed.

  "We're not firing Staff Sergeant."

  "Not us either," came another voice.

  "Not sure where it's coming from Staff Sergeant. Must be enemy fire."

  "Stay put! They can't hurt us in the tanks. Everyone stay on guard," he squawked over the wires.

  Calm presided over the area again as they moved the tanks down the dusty street. When they stopped again, Marcus relaxed and took off the headset he grabbed earlier in a hurry. He turned in the small space and threw himself down on the seat beside Francis.

  "How is your Dad now Francis?" he asked the Marine.

  "He's a mess Staff Sergeant. I talk to him once a week on Skype. He misses her."

  "He ever cheat on her?" asked Jimmy all of a sudden.

  The surprised Marine looked at him with great attention. "I think he did."

  "Did she tell you that?" asked Marcus, the toss of his head giving derision to his words.

  "No, she never brought it up. My Dad told me last year after she died."

  Marcus colored at his assumptive poor judgment, nodding at Francis.

  "He told me that he strayed," laughed the young man. "He called it strayed. He could never bring himself to say cheated. He was so embarrassed. So crushed that he hurt her. He never excused it though."

  "Did he tell you why he did it?" asked John. "Sounds to me like they had a good thing."

  "He said that he needed to feel alive. Strange huh? He needed to know that he was wanted. As if she did not show him every day," said Francis. "She loved him every day of their life together."

  "Maybe he did not have enough good times," said Marcus.

  "How much is enough Staff Sergeant? How much is the last time? When should he take responsibility? He told me that he regretted it every day of his life."

  "Why is that?" asked John.

  "He felt he betrayed a trust."

  "He said that?"

  "Yes. He said it with tears. She trusted him with our lives and he broke the trust, the bond they made."

  "How did she handle it?"

  "She told him to leave. She told him to go and find the floozy he was sleeping with and not come back."

  "Did he go?" asked Marcus.

  "He did. He left for a week."

  "Just one week?" asked Jimmy.

  "Yeah, he came back and begged her forgiveness."

  "Did she make him beg?" asked Marcus.

  The look in his Marine's eyes brought shame to his face and he lowered his head.

  "No," said Francis. "He said that he came to the door and stood outside the screen looking at her. She stood waiting and asked what he wanted. He told her he was sorry and wanted to come home." His voice caught on the words.

  "And?" asked Jimmy, impatient.

  "She opened the screen door and told him that she forgave him and that she missed him."

  Marcus grabbed his chest with both hands.

  "You okay Staff Sergeant?"

  Recovering before they discovered his weakness, he pulled his clothes away from his skin.

  "It's warm in here. I'm sweating like a hog."

  "Hogs don't sweat," said John. "Honestly," when he looked around at the incredulous eyes looking at him, "they don't. We sweat but they don't."

  "The King of Trivia," said Jimmy slapping him on the shoulder. "What else do you know?"

  "I want to be a pig though," said John, laughing.

  "Why a pig?" asked Jimmy.

  "They orgasm for thirty minutes."

  "Shut up!" said the intrigued Jimmy.

  "Really, they do!" said John covering his belly from the attack that was inevitable from the guys.

  "I don't want you to go," said Marcus a week before he left for duty to the Middle East.

  "What does that mean Marcus?" asked, the broken woman.

  "I want you to stay. Please stay."

  "Why Marcus? You have not had enough good times, remember?"

  "That was foolish and stupid talk. Please stay."

  "I am not sure that it is such a good idea. You will be gone anyway."

  "I'll be back. I'll be back and we can move on with our life," he said to her. "I made a mistake. Stay with me!"

  "Is this because you are leaving for Iraq? Are you scared?"

  "I'm scared o' nothin'," he said much too fast. "I just want you to stay."

  And she stayed. No words of regret or apology. No forgiveness required. No state of grace redeemed. Life went back to the time before his cheating.

  The last days he was with her were bliss. What he remembered was nothing changed with her, he was happier, less agitated. Marcus knew he may not be the brightest but reality hit him in the face. If he lost this woman, he may never find anyone like her.

>   Two days before he left, he walked in, set his bag down and made a beeline to Faith. He held her in his arms as she turned holding him to her.

  "Marry me," he said to her. "Marry me before I leave. I wanna know that you're protected before I leave."

  "I am fine Marcus. We do not need to do this."

  "Yes we do. If something happens to me, you will be left in the cold. I want to know that you are safe and protected. Marry me!"

  "We have no time ...," she said smiling.

  "We have all the time we need Faith. We can go to town hall and do it. Marry me Faith."

  "We have no rings," she said smiling.

  "We can do that when I come back. I don't want to rush that. We can choose the ones we want when I come back."

  "We should wait Marcus until you come back."

  "Marry me Faith. I love you."

  The ceremony was small and quick. As they spoke their I dos, she held her son on her side even as they kissed. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson and son walked out of the court house, a family united under the law just as they had been united before God for three years.

  With a heavy heart and a strange feeling of loss, he left his family behind getting on a plane to his possible doom. He heard her on the telephone defending him to her Mother who seemed irate with her daughter and her decisions. Faith never discussed her Mother with him. She told him once that her Mother taught her that lesson earlier in life.

  "Staff Sergeant, you married?"

  "I am," he answered short and ending.

  "How long till your tour ends Staff Sergeant?"

  "Two more months. Almost done," he said reassuring himself as he spoke the words. "Only two months. The most is over."

  "Can't wait to get outta here," said John. "These disgusting people and their nasty habits."

  "What you talking about, dude?" asked Jimmy.

  "They don't eat with their left hand since that is the one they wipe their butts with."

  "What you talking about?"

  "You know. They wipe with the left hand so they shake hands and eat with the right. Some blow like that. Who knows what those towel heads think?"

  "It's not like that at all actually," said Francis.

  "What do you know about it?"

  "My family is Middle Eastern," said Francis looking at Jimmy. "We do not use our hands to clean. We do the same as everyone does with toilet paper but we use water too. And still some refuse to use that hand for eating. Good hygiene."

  Silence reigned in the tank as the men looked at each other.

  "Who cares!" said Jimmy refusing to grasp the concept preferring his own ignorance. His anger needed channeling and if it was against the enemy, who's to stop him?

  "Didn't know you was Mid Eastern dude," said John. "Sorry about all the stuff I said before."

  "No problem. I'm used to it by now," said Francis.

  "What kinda name is Francis, anyway?" asked Jimmy. "You're not Muhammed or some freaking name like that."

  "I'm Christian and we do not name those names. We use Biblical names."

  "Go figure!" said the stupid Jimmy. "Never knew that."

  "Imagine that!" said John, smacking Jimmy in the belly. "Something you don't know. What a surprise!"

  "Screw you John!" said Jimmy, annoyed. "You knew all that?"

  "Nah, did not either but it don't surprise me one bit. There's lots I don't know."

  "You don't feel that you're killing your own here Francis?" asked Jimmy.

  "What the hell, Jimmy!" said Marcus. "Shut your mouth!"

  "It's alright Staff Sergeant. I got it. Better he ask me, right?"

  Marcus glared at Jimmy who could not understand the fuss.

  "No, I do not feel that I am killing my own. In the States do the cops feel that they are killing their own? The Uni-bomber was our own as you say, yet no one felt bad or wrong killing him or arresting him," explained Francis to a deaf Jimmy, who looked on without understanding.

  "Makes sense dude," said John, slapping him on the back and singing, "I shot the Sherif but I didn't shoot the deputy."

  The men laughed passing the awkward moment in peace and the rest of their tour in relative equanimity.

  When his tour was done, Marcus got on the plane for the dreaded long flight back across the Atlantic. The man beside him seemed calmer than he was. But then everyone seemed calmer. As Marcus sat clutching his backpack, his neighbor sat with headphones listening to music when he noticed the nervous Marine beside him.

  "James," said the Gunnery Sergeant extending his hand which Marcus took.

  "Marcus."

  "Anyone waiting for you, Staff Sergeant?"

  "My wife," said Marcus, puffing his chest out. "My wife and two sons. My second was born while I was away."

  "Congratulations man! That is great! How many you have?"

  "Two. Two sons. I have two healthy sons."

  "You doing okay?"

  "I hate flying."

  "Yeah, I can tell," he said pointing at the tight knuckles Marcus held before him.

  "Yeah, I try but I hate it."

  "Safest way to travel. Least accidents."

  "Yeah, so I hear. Try to tell my thumping heart that. Not helping. My wife tells me that all the time."

  "Smart woman. She's right."

  "Yeah. She's always right," said Marcus with serious gravity.

  "Yeah, aren't they all? Women are always right," laughed the other man.

  "No really," said the serious Marcus. "She's always right."

  The man looked at him with close attention now, "You have a bad case of being in love with your wife, my friend."

  Marcus smiled nodding his head.

  "That's not very fashionable," said James, laughing.

  "You got anyone waiting?"

  "Yeah, my lawyer," laughed the man.

  Marcus frowned.

  "Yeah, she divorced me while I was gone serving my country. Go figure!"

  "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. Good riddance. She was dead weight."

  "I'm still sorry."

  "Thanks. She did spend all the money though."

  Marcus shook his head. "So I hear."

  "What?"

  "Seems like an epidemic in the Corps," said Marcus.

  "What is?"

  "Women dumping their husbands after cleaning out the bank account."

  "Yeah, I'm not the only one. You're right! This war destroyed enough lives in and out of the Corps."

  "It sure has," agreed Marcus.

  "So must be good to know she awaits you on the other side, huh?"

  "Yes, it does," smiled the husband who most often did not. "Yeah, it is a good feeling."

  James let a heartbeat go by.

  "Only fools and bird shit fall out of the sky."

  Marcus nodded still white knuckled.

  When the plane landed and Marcus touched the ground of his country, he searched over the awaiting heads, for his wife. Faith stood with both his boys to the side smiling as she saw his face. He moved with rapid steps catching her in his arms. He looked down at the baby between them, now strapped to his wife's chest.

  "Congratulations!" she said to him. "Another boy. Meet your son."

  Marcus could hardly breathe with the joy as his heart filled to the brim. In her hand, she held on tight to their oldest in sandals looking up at the Father he had not seen in months.

  "Daddy," said the boy looking up.

  "He recognizes me," said Marcus lifting his son in his arms.

  "Yes," said his wife, not confessing that she showed their son his picture all day, every day, reminding him of his Father, just awaiting this moment. No need to tell him since the results glared at them both.

  Marcus kissed the boy who looked at his Mother and stretched his arms out to her.

  "It's Daddy sweetheart," she said to him, calming the reaching boy. "You miss Daddy. He is here now."

  Marcus kissed the boy's cheek again.

  "He looks good Faith."

 
"Yes, he is doing well."

  Faith placed her sleeping baby in his car seat as Marcus untrained, waited for his wife to help with his older son. She strapped him to his seat too.

  "Daddy is home," she whispered to her son, as kissing his cheek.

  In silence, Marcus drove to their home. Having talked two or three times a week since he left, little was unsaid between them.

  "It's great to be in the car instead of the plane," said the husband to his wife.

  "Or the tank?" she provided.

  "Or the damn tank," said the man looking her over.

  His wife changed her hair do. Her hair straightened, her eyes made up, she looked a vision to him after months of visual starvation.

  "You're beautiful," said the man.

  "I am glad you like it. The new me."

  "You look stunning," he said again.

  "Thank you, Baby. I love you and missed you."

  "I missed you too."

  Marcus parked the car as the father and mother picked up their two sleeping children up to their apartment. As the man breathed in the clean air of his town, he climbed the stairs to his home.

  When he entered, the Marine inhaled the familiar clean scent of comfort. To her credit, Faith kept a spotless apartment unlike many of the apartments he visited when his job demanded it.

  After they set the boys down for sleep, Marcus took his wife's hand leading her to the bedroom.

  "I missed you," he said to her as he inhaled her soft scent. "I thought of this moment for so long while I was gone."

  "I missed you Baby. I am so glad you are home. Welcome home Baby, welcome home."

  Their reunion consummated with lovemaking, they basked in the comfort of their bed as they lay side by side sated and content. He looked at his glowing wife and fell in love all over again.

  "You okay?"

  "I am doing fine, Marcus. I worried about you but better yet, I prayed every day for your safety. So glad you are home."

  The next two days Marcus spent doing accounting and making sure their finances were intact. To his surprise, his frugal wife kept things just as he asked without deviating from the plan one iota. That evening he looked around him realizing how fortunate he was, and how close he came to losing the best thing that happened to him, in his life.

  As he sat without the television on for a change, he looked at both his sons on the floor, the baby on the blanket while his three year old walked around sedate and calm.