6
Lindsey was down in her basement, finishing the week’s laundry, when she spotted the corner of an old drab green Army trunk buried beneath boxes of Christmas decorations. Curious, she dug the trunk out and dragged it to the open floor, where she took a knee. Among other war souvenirs—a British uniform and beret with desert rat patches, a boot knife with a broken tip, yellow-eared photos—she discovered a stack of old letters bound by an old rubber band. She looked at the stack, realizing they had been mailed to her father from her mother in 1991. He’d been stationed on the front lines of Iraq, Seventh Corps, First Light Infantry.
As Lindsey removed the top letter, the rubber band snapped. She lifted the envelope closer to her nose, detecting the faint scent of perfume. She took a seat, pulled the letter from the yellowed envelope and read:
My Dearest,
Thank you for your many letters. I can’t tell you how much they mean to me to know that you’re safe.
Denis, I love you so much that it hurts. As I try to go about my daily routine, I can’t think about anything but you. I sit in front of the TV day and night, watching what you guys are doing over there. So brave! I’m so proud of you that I could scream.
I can’t wait to see you again…to hold you and kiss you and make love to you over and over.
Lindsey cringed at the thought of her parents together like that, though she understood what her mother had been feeling.
There’s nothing new on this end. I saw your mother at the market and we shared updates about you. Lee Greenwood’s song, “God Bless the USA,” plays over and over on the radio, and it makes me think of you every time.
I daydream about the future we’ll have together. Getting married, buying a house, having children and growing old together.
Lindsey snorted at the final thought. “Three out of four isn’t bad, Mom,” she muttered, sarcastically, and returned to the letter.
I love you so much that it aches. Think of me and please stay safe.
All My Love,
Anita
Lindsey dropped the letter and sat in the middle of the dirty floor, thinking. It’s exactly what I’m feeling…what I’m living right now. She shook her head. Mom and Dad were definitely in love back then, but in the end look how it turned out. She shook her head again. Either their love died, or it wasn’t strong enough to overcome everything they were forced to face together after the war. The truth of it made her shiver.
She threw the letters back into the trunk and kicked it into the corner. Grabbing the laundry basket, she shut off the light and walked up the stairs—knowing that the letter would haunt her, challenging the innocent hope she had for a future with David.
Lindsey made a beeline to her PC and wrote David:
David,
Things are good on this end. I’ve been thinking about you every day. But as you know, you’re not missing anything here—except me.
Please write or call and tell me when it looks like you’ll be coming home. It’s getting closer every day, and I cannot wait to see you. You have no idea how proud I am (we all are) of you.
I love you.
Lindsey
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
Halfway around the world, David stared at the computer screen like a drooling zombie, his chest constricted and his breathing shallow. That night on the park bench was a lifetime ago, he thought. So much has changed. I’ve changed. And he knew it wasn’t for the better.
There were times when he struggled to picture Lindsey’s face now—the way she’d looked at him when they gazed up at the stars that night.
I could destroy this before we ever have a chance, he thought.
Still, he wrote:
Lindsey,
You’ve taught me that someone doesn’t have to be there in person to really be there for someone. Thanks for walking with me every step of the way. Your letters have honestly helped me get through this.
All My Love,
David
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
One month before shipping home, David was summoned to the chaplain’s tent. Upon arrival, he found the white-haired major sitting at a small, portable desk.
“You called for me, sir?” David asked in the tent flap.
The man turned. “McClain?” he asked, smiling.
David nodded.
“Come in. Come in, please.” He gestured for David to take a seat on his cot.
Reluctantly, David sat on the edge. “What can I do for you, sir?” he asked.
The man retrieved an envelope and turned to face David, his eyes now solemn. “I’m sorry to tell you, son, but we’ve received word from the Red Cross that your dad has passed away. We…”
“What?” David interrupted. “My father died?” he asked, the shock numbing his senses.
The older man took a seat beside David. “He did, son,” he confirmed, handing him the letter. “Seems he had a massive heart attack at work and they couldn’t revive him.”
David stared at the opened letter—unable to read a word of it—while his mind spiraled with a thousand negative thoughts. But he never said goodbye to me…I never showed him he was wrong…Oh God, Mom must be a mess. His emotions were even more fractured and bizarre.
The chaplain placed his hand on David’s shoulder. “There will be no actual funeral, just a cremation followed by a private burial. I’ve already taken the liberty of talking to your company commander about you taking bereavement R & R and…”
“That won’t be necessary,” David said, still dry-eyed and in shock.
“Grief can be a funny thing, G.I.”
“Please don’t ever call me that,” David snapped instinctively.
The man slowly nodded. “Okay, son, but if you want to…”
“I’ll be fine,” David interrupted, “really.”
The man searched his eyes. “Would you like me to pray with you?”
Shaking his head, David stood. “I appreciate that, but I need to call home and talk to my mother. She must be taking it hard.”
“Of course. Of course.” The chaplain also stood and extended his hand. “My deepest sympathies for your loss. If you change your mind about going home or would just like to come by and talk, my door is always open.”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.” He thought for a moment. “Knowing my father, he would have wanted me to stay right here and do my job.”
The chaplain looked unsure about how to take the last comment. “I hope to see you at service on Sunday.”
David nodded again. “Sure, if I’m not out shooting at bad guys.”
The older man’s eyes went wide.
With the letter in hand, David quickly exited the tent, confused by his overwhelming emotions. Dad was a real bastard, he thought, but at least he was always there. He shook his head. I just wish I’d had the chance to face him and tell him what I really thought.
Although David expected a physical response to follow—gasping breaths, tightening of the chest—he felt nothing of the sort. Strange, he thought.
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
Lindsey approached her car after a long day at work. Joe, her ex-boyfriend, was waiting by her driver’s side door. “Hi sexy,” he said. “Miss me?”
Joe was tall, bronze and chiseled. With aqua blue eyes and raven black hair, to say that he was good looking would have been a gross understatement. At one time, Lindsey was just another notch in his long line of conquests. He’d cast a spell on her, and she dove headfirst into his winning smile. But that was a long time ago, she thought.
“No,” she said honestly. “There’s nothing worse than being with someone and always wondering who else they’re with.” He smells good though, Lindsey thought, and it looks like he’s been working out. She snickered to herself. But a dog dressed in a tuxedo is still a dog.
Joe shook his head. “I had no idea things would turn out the way they did. But I needed to come see you and tell you what I’ve been thinking and feeling…”
She started to object when he continu
ed. “Lindsey, you’re so incredibly irresistible. You’re funny and smart.”
His words sounded more sincere than anything he’d ever fabricated, but she could tell he was lying because his lips were still moving. No matter how challenging the game, it was all about the thrill of the chase for Joe, and he kept his eyes on the prize.
“I don’t mean to put pressure on you,” he said, “but I can’t help it. I wish, even for a moment, that you could come away with me. Then you’d understand how real this is for me and how desperately I want you…all of you.”
“Joe, please don’t…”
He took a step closer and locked onto her eyes. “I could kiss you for hours, Linds, and never stop. All I want is the opportunity to turn your world upside down.” He reached for her hand.
She pulled it away.
“When we were together, I felt really comfortable with you. I just wish it didn’t end the way it did.”
“With you cheating on me with every skank on the island?” she finally asked, breaking her silence.
“I told you, I made a mistake.”
“More than one,” she said, surprised that she was still angry about it.
“We’ve both learned that life can change,” he said and then grinned. “But I can also see that the attraction between us hasn’t changed.”
“Life can change,” she agreed, “but people are who they are. And you’re a cheat, Joe. You’ll always be a cheat.”
“Listen…” he said, waving off her last comment like she hadn’t meant it. “I have a good job, a nice house…it’s all good. But there’s something missing. One big giant piece of the puzzle is missing. I now know what it is or what I want. I want you, Lindsey.”
She tried to stop him again.
“Please Lindsey, at least let me finish.” An actual tear formed in the corner of his eye.
Wow, she thought, even tears this time.
“I truly believe with all my heart that you and I are meant to be, and I’m crawling out of my skin with ways to make you smile.” He nodded. “I’ve seen how determination and persistence can pay off, and I believe that if I want something bad enough, no matter what it is I can make it happen.” He smiled wide. “Lindsey, the day may come that I become determined to make you my wife, and it may come sooner than you think.”
She gagged slightly; she couldn’t help it.
He studied her face, clearly surprised that he hadn’t made more ground. “Okay, so I made a mistake. And now I’m not entitled to happiness?”
“Of course you are, Joe,” she said, “but not at the sake of mine.”
He paused for air. “Maybe we could just be friends then?” His dimpled grin and raised eyebrow was like a spider’s web, awaiting its prey in the morning sun.
The temptation was stronger than Lindsey would have liked. She was standing at a dangerous crossroad, and they both knew it.
Joe stepped forward again and held out his hand. “Come on, Linds,” he whispered. “It would be a real shame to throw away the connection we share.”
He’s unbelievably sexy, she thought, but was already shaking her head. But it’s best to eliminate any opportunities before I’m the one making the mistake. “I can’t,” she said. “I met this guy.”
“You’re saying no because you just met a guy? You don’t even know him, Linds.”
“I’m not sure about that,” she said.
He was shocked. “You’re not going to give me another chance because you like some new guy?”
“No, Joe. It’s because I like myself.” She shrugged. “Besides, you’ve had enough chances.” She shook her head. “You are what you are, and that’s never going to change.” She nodded confidently. “It’s never going to happen, Joe. We’re done.”
“Well, it’s your loss then!” he said.
“I know,” she said, trying to be kind and afford him at least one shred of dignity.
“But you don’t,” he said, growing more angry. “You have no idea.” He walked away, pouting like a little boy who’d just heard the word no for the first time.
He’s so damn beautiful, Lindsey thought, and sighed heavily, but there are a million Joe’s out there. She then pictured David’s baby face and smiled. And I want much more.
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
David lay on his cot, staring up at the billet’s corrugated ceiling. So much has happened, he thought. When we first landed here,it didn’t look like there was anything worth fighting for. If it weren’t for the constant reminders that we were fighting terrorism, the entire thing would have seemed ludicrous. In the grander scheme of things, though, David believed it was a just cause. He nodded to himself thinking, Either way, when the fighting kicks off, politics, big band anthems and waving flags play no role in combat. Men fight for their brothers who stand beside them; it’s that simple. He placed both hands behind his head and sighed. And when the bullets start flying, there’s much less fear than I’d ever imagined there would be.The fighting’s instinctive, he thought. He and the boys merely reverted back to their rudimentary training, which had been taught at a third-grade level through relentless repetition.
Most days, thoughts and emotions are put on hold, where they can be dealt with afterward—regardless of how long that might take. And when visions of the enemy’s family—to include small, dependent children—danced in David’s head, causing him to stay up at night, he offset it with other grotesque pictures of the Taliban’s cruelty. When it was quiet at night, this internal war raged on inside of him. He sometimes wondered, What will my mother think of me now that I’ve made the transition from fighter to killer? He wondered even more—what will Lindsey think of me?
After eleven months in Afghanistan, David needed to confess, to tell the truth—anything to lighten his soul. But the last thing he wanted was to burden his family or friends with the sins he’d been ordered to commit. He immediately thought about Captain Eli, his mentor and confidant. Captain Eli won’t judge me, he thought. He just won’t. He grabbed a pen and paper and wrote:
Dear Captain Eli,
I hope this letter finds you well. It’s been a while since I’ve written. Forgive me, as there hasn’t been anything I’ve been anxious to share. This is a tough place to describe, and I think it’s even tougher to explain how I feel being here. But I’d like to try.
As rangers, we’re constantly on the move. And after eleven months, it’s become very cold and lonely. When we first got here, it was pretty exciting being in a far-off, mysterious land, but the place lost its novelty long ago.
Captain Eli, although I’ve never backed down from a fight in my life, I never knew what a fight was until I got here. We’ve engaged the enemy several times. Just two days ago, a small band of Taliban fired on us and we returned their fire. The entire thing lasted no more than a minute, but it was such a devastating sight—so wasteful and permanent. When it was over, one of my bullets killed a man.
Most people have no idea about the price that’s paid for freedom. It’s so confusing here. We love that all of America is behind us, but we also know that the government’s sold the words “patriotism” and “democracy” to justify everything that we do. And trust me, Captain Eli, not everything should be justified.
Well, I need to write Mom and let her know I’m okay. Since Dad passed, she writes me almost every day, bless her soul. Most days, mail call is the only ray of sunshine in this pit. Thanks for listening. See you soon.
David
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
There was no fanfare. No long goodbyes. One afternoon, the ranger team was kicking in doors and screaming life-or-death instructions in a language that the Afghan people could never understand. The following afternoon, they were boarding a C-130, heading for home.
On the last ride out of camp, David glanced back. Camp Phoenix, he thought, rising from the ashes. He shook his head. Bullshit.
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
Inside the rumbling belly of the C-130, David located the most comfortable-looking canvas sling and took
a seat. After checking his gear, he looked up and took a different inventory: Four rangers from a different team are gone forever; three from multiple AK47 rounds, and the other by the blast of a successful improvised explosive device, from which he’d bled out. Another poor bastard was maimed from shrapnel and he’llprobably be unrecognizable to his own parents. And then he thought about Big Al Correiro from his own team—who’d been sent home months earlier—scratching two perfectly healthy legs off the plane’s original manifest. Freedom isn’t free at all, he thought and closed his tired eyes.
Throughout the lengthy flight, David wore a set of bulky headphones, as the whine of the motors made him feel like his head was going to pop off. As the hours ticked off, he felt confused. He was excited to be going home alive after his first combat tour, but he also realized that so much had happened—terrible, life-changing experiences that needed to be processed. How will people understand? he wondered. Can they?
After finally dozing off, he awoke panting for air, his heart racing out of control. What the hell?It’s over, he thought and, using the sniper techniques he’d been taught, began to calm his breathing. Within minutes, he slowed his breathing and heart rate but not before coming to the stinging realization that there were some very dark emotions boiling and bubbling just beneath the surface—evidently seeping out in short panic attacks—building and waiting to erupt. Maybe it’s not over, he thought.
The crew chief came through, handing out MRE rations. David took off his headphones. “Enjoy your dinner,” the crew chief said, with a smirk.
David looked down. He’d drawn the dehydrated pork patty. “Are you kidding me?” he yelled over the motors. “This is what we’re getting fed?”
The man nodded. “It’s an MRE or nothing.”
David threw the nasty plastic-looking meal onto the deck. “Nothing sounds better,” he said, and jammed the headphones back onto his ears.
With his stomach churning, David nodded off again. Not an hour later, he awoke shivering. There was nothing but a canvas flap separating his back from the steel fuselage. He put on his parka, zipped it up and thought about Lindsey. A rush of joy and excitement washed over him, but he quickly pushed it aside, afraid to bring something so pure and good into this nightmare he was fighting to emerge from. I can’t ruin things with her, he decided. I have to get my head on straight, or I’ll destroy any chance we have at being together.
Gooseberry Island Page 10
