Sir, Yes Sir

by Dinah McLeod

Instead, quiet, timid Chloe spoke again, her voice as soft as a caress from the wind. “They're your son’s beliefs, too, Mr. Davies.”

  That did it. Dean reached for the lasagna and didn't open his mouth for the rest of the meal except to chew. Instead, he glowered at all of us throughout the meal, stabbing his food as though he wished he could have killed it himself. I felt badly for Chloe who surely hadn’t planned on getting into a confrontation with the father of a boy she liked. I felt badly for Morgan, who I knew was probably both embarrassed and angry. But hadn’t he warned her what she was walking into? As much as I loved my son, and respected that he stood by his beliefs, I really wished he had thought this one through a bit more. The room was painfully silent as we all tried very hard to avoid one another’s eyes. No one said so much as “pass the salad”. I was so miserable I could hardly choke down two bites myself. The bread seemed to stick to the roof of my mouth and it took several swallows of water to get it to wash down. My mind was racing. For what felt like the hundredth time that week I wished for a time machine. If I could, I'd go back and make sure Dean’s accident never happened. Yes, there were aspects of civilian life I enjoyed. I liked making money and helping to provide for my family, but I missed my friends and the organizations I’d been a part of. Most of all, I missed my husband, I missed what my family had been like. Sure, it hadn’t been perfect, but it had been better than this—bickering and snapping at each other all the time.

  Was I crazy to bring a baby into all of this? I realized with a sinking feeling that the answer was probably yes.

  Once Chloe put her napkin on the table, Morgan rose to his feet, as if it was a signal they’d worked out during the meal. “We’re going to my room now.”

  “Okay,” I replied, trying to smile.

  Morgan took Chloe’s hand in his own and turned in his father's direction. “Chloe and I do share the same views on this, and while you may not agree with us, I’d appreciate you not jumping on us just because we have a different opinion. Chloe is very passionate about this, which is why she was able to bring it up, even knowing about your time in the Army. I respect her very much for that, and I think you should at least honor my feelings.”

  I was shocked at how grown up my son sounded all of a sudden. Before I could think to respond or know how to react, he’d whisked her from the room. I looked across the table to Dean who, to my surprise, was wearing a smirk. “What?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Good for him.”

  “What?” I repeated again, practically beginning to choke again. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “It's not as simple as he thinks, Shelby. We both know that. I wish it was, but it isn't. But good for him for standing up for his girl, and for what he believes in.”

  I felt like I could finally exhale. “Really?”

  “Of course. What kind of father would I be if I didn't support my own son?”

  I smiled. Maybe I was wrong, maybe he was still in the right frame of mind to hear my news. It was shocking, considering everything that had taken place. Maybe, just maybe, things were starting to get better. Maybe he had turned a corner. “Dean, I need to—”

  He held up a finger to me as he whipped his cell phone out of his pocket. He stared at the number for a moment before he answered “Hello? Peterson! I haven't heard from you in a while. What's the word?”

  I shifted in my seat, waiting impatiently. I didn't want to begrudge Dean his chance to catch up with his Army buddies, but if I didn't get to tell him soon I thought I would combust from keeping the secret to myself.

  “Is that so? Well, then, sounds like good things are coming down the pike.” Dean's face had lit up with an animated smile. “Oh, really? You don't say. Well...congratulations.” His smile vanished right before my eyes and I could swear he looked tense suddenly. “Yes. Yes, absolutely. I'm glad you got the nod. Okay. Thanks for calling. Goodbye.”

  “What is it?” I asked as soon as he'd hung up.

  “Nothing.” He smiled, but his eyes were suddenly distant.

  “You can tell me,” I persisted.

  “It's nothing, Shelby, really. Peterson just called to let me know that he's taking General Lowe's place next month. They made it official.” He said the words calmly but his face had become a frozen shell. I knew that if I somehow managed to crack it I would see the pain and anger underneath.

  “Oh, Dean.” My own voice was an anguished whisper. I knew how much this had to pain him. It was supposed to have been his job and we both knew it. Before the injury, he’d been on the fast track for the promotion. He’d spent so many years working his ass off—we’d both worked hard and sacrificed so much. I was a member of all the “right” organizations, I knew all the “important” people. Dean had worked hard, but we played the game, too. Like it or not, there would always be politics in the Army. Suddenly, an idea hit me and I couldn't help but smile.

  “Please, don't bother controlling your enthusiasm,” my husband said dryly.

  “No, no, it's not that,” I rushed to assure him. “I just had a thought, that's all. Why can't you ask Peterson to put a word in for you? I know you can't go back into the Army but couldn't you be a contractor? After all your years—”

  “No.” He said it so quietly that I almost didn't hear him.

  Even when the word made its way to my brain, I didn't hear what he said so much as the steel behind it. His eyes were flashing at me, cold and hard. “But why?” I sighed, finally giving into the frustration I’d been feeling. It seemed like I couldn't do anything right lately, especially whenever I tried to help.

  “I couldn't ask him to do that, that's why.”

  “But—”

  “No, I'm not going to ask him to put his neck on the line for me.”

  I blinked rapidly. What was he talking about? “But I thought that’s what soldiers did for each other. And you miss it so much, you can try and pretend you don't, but—”

  “Of course I miss it.” The words came out sounding so ragged and gruff that I winced. “You can't understand, all right, so stop trying.” With that, he pushed back his chair and stood up. “Where is our son?”

  “I...I don't know. I guess he's in his room.”

  “Should the two of them really be up there alone?” Even though he phrased it as a question, his tone of voice made his opinion clear.

  “Don't you trust him?”

  Dean didn't bother to answer me, but just shot out of the room and down the hall. All I could do was watch him go, blinking back tears. I didn’t know what to do anymore. My own home felt like a warzone. Everything I did was wrong. I tried to help and only made things worse.

  Chapter 4

  Dean

  I headed to Morgan's room with my hands clenched at my sides. I was power walking, and I could feel my face heating up. I knew I was angry. I’d been angry for a long time, ever since my commander had informed me that he would be taking action against me. The anger hadn’t abated even when he’d told me that they were letting me off the hook and allowing me to retire. No, if anything, it had grown. I deserved the chance to have my commanding officers render judgment against me. Maybe if they had, maybe if I hadn't gone along with the whole sordid plan to bow out gracefully, things would have gone differently. But turning down their offer meant that I could be found guilty of a crime and taken down in rank. I could have even been court-martialed. That was a chance I couldn't take. I was lucky enough as it was that rumors hadn’t reached my family.

  Sometimes, I wondered how that could be. I knew that Morgan didn't keep in touch with any of his old friends, but Shelby did. It was nothing short of a miracle that no one had leaked the news and that the gossip hadn’t gotten to my wife. At least, I assumed it hadn’t. If it had, Shelby had never let on to me.

  If I could turn back time, I wonder if I’d have handled it any differently. I definitely would have reported the soldier, that's for sure and certain. My life had become a mess ever since leaving post. The only job I could find was s
ome bottom-of-the-totem-pole retail job and my family seemed to be drifting further and further apart. I watched it happening and felt as helpless as a casual onlooker. But that wasn't quite true; I was more than an onlooker, often I was the instigator. I heard words come out of my mouth and knew that they wouldn’t accomplish anything, but once they were out I couldn’t take them back.

  It pissed me off. Yes, I was pissed. And right now the only thing I could do about it was confront my teenage son who was with a girl in his bedroom alone. Really, I didn't know what Shelby had been thinking! He wasn’t in kindergarten anymore; he was a seventeen-year-old boy with all the hormones and sexual tension that came along with that. For just an instant, I remembered how I’d fantasize about having a girl alone when I was his age. I remembered all the things I’d thought about doing if I ever got that chance, and I shuddered.

  I kept walking, imagining the very worst. He talked back to me in front of her, so what would stop him from behaving inappropriately under my roof? Oh, I knew Shelby thought he would never do that, but she was a bit naive when it came to our son. She had to be—she always defended him and seemed to take his side. Nothing he did—the ridiculous hair, the beggar’s clothes, the anti-establishment crap—none of it seemed to faze her. I wished that I could be so laissez faire about it, but he was my son! I couldn’t just sit by and watch him become a lazy bum without doing anything about it. He’d had so many opportunities—he could do anything! But my son, like others his age, lived for the moment and thought of the future in terms of something they’d “figure out” when the time came. That was another thing that pissed me off. Morgan was throwing away a promising future with both hands. He had so many chances that I would have killed for at his age, and he squandered them!

  What was wrong with me? Was I such a bad dad that I had failed to show him that planning was important?

  “Morgan?” I rapped on the door once before turning the knob. I expected it to be locked, but to my surprise it turned easily and I let myself in. Sure enough, the pair of them were on the bed. They were sitting without even an inch of space between them, facing each other with their knees touching, without a textbook in sight. I knew it. What would Shelby think of her perfect boy now? Of course, knowing her, she’d find a way to excuse it somehow.

  I was about to bark at them to separate when I realized their eyes were closed. I saw that Morgan’s head was bent, his blond hair falling over his face. He was mumbling something, and Chloe's dark head was bent, too. I stepped closer, trying not to make a sound so I could hear what he was saying.

  “Lord, we just pray that if it's your will, Chloe will find a way to make things work at home. You know what the future holds, Lord, and we’re trusting in You and Your perfect plan. We just pray for guidance, and thank You for watching over Chloe.”

  I took a step back, watching with my mouth agape. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Was he praying? That hardly seemed to fit into his tough, slouchy image. How did that work? I didn’t even know he believed in God. We’d taken him to church every Sunday since he was an infant, we even went on Wednesday nights sometimes, but I had no idea that he was so devoted. It wasn’t something we’d ever talked about.

  Just then, Chloe joined in and I realized how soft and sweet her voice sounded. I’d missed it somehow when she was on her tirade about war. I backed out of the room and closed the door softly. I stood there in shock, staring at the door. Of all the things I'd expected... That's when it hit me: Shelby had been right all along. She knew Morgan, really knew him whereas I didn't have a clue. She knew what his character was like, where I had a tendency to always assume the worst. And Chloe! I’d jumped on her for her opinion—she hadn't been on a tirade. She’d shared her views respectfully and I'd made the poor girl feel uncomfortable, not to mention my wife and son. What was wrong with me?

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the door. I couldn’t shake the question that kept reverberating in my head over and over again: what was wrong with me? Why was I like this? When did I get this way? What could I do?

  I walked back to my room as if in a trance, puzzling over the questions that wouldn’t stop coming.

  “Dean?”

  I looked up in surprise, never having realized that Shelby was in the room. I watched her fold the laundry, still feeling like I was in a daze.

  “Are you okay?”

  It was a loaded question and I wasn’t sure how to answer, so I didn’t. I just walked over to the bed and sat beside her, reaching for a towel to fold to keep my hands busy. I rarely helped with the housework, but if Shelby found my behavior strange, she didn't say anything.

  “So?”

  “What?” I asked, pulling out of my shock to focus on her.

  “Did you find them?”

  “Uh, yeah. They were...praying.”

  Shelby nodded and turned back to the pile of socks in her lap. I thought for sure she’d laugh at me or least say I told you so, but she didn't say a word. She kept her attention on the clothes while I tried to make sense of my rambling thoughts.

  “When did it get like this, Shelby?”

  “What do you mean, Dean?”

  Of course, she had to know what I meant. Surely she thought about it as much as I did. But how could I ask her, “When did I stop being a good husband, a good father, and transform into one of those guys we both used to hate? When did that happen?” But I was too afraid of what she might tell me, that I might not be able to handle the truth.

  “Nothing, honey. Never mind.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I tried to smile to reassure her but it felt more like a grimace. “Yeah, baby. I'm gonna go watch some TV.”

  She nodded, her doe eyes bright and sweet. I could see that she wanted me to stay, she wanted me to tell her more and let her in, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t tell her—she just couldn’t know. Not now, not ever, not after I'd worked so long to keep it a secret. Things were hard right now, but they’d get better. They had to. But if I told her, she’d hate me forever.

  I could feel her eyes on me as I walked out the door but I didn't turn back around. I was sure if I looked into her loving, trusting eyes one more time I'd hate myself even more for what I’d become.

  * * * * *

  Shelby

  It was late when I got home, a little after midnight according to the bedside clock. I wasn’t surprised to find Dean asleep, and in fact, I’d actually been relieved. I knew he hadn’t been happy about me taking the job in the first place, and he’d be even less happy to discuss it at this late hour. Still, I found myself practically humming with the success of my first day as night manager. It had gone surprisingly well, although there were certainly moments when I’d felt overwhelmed. There were times when I wondered if I’d ever learn all the new responsibilities, but I knew it was just the anxiety talking. It was only my first day, and it had gone rather well.

  I was pleased with myself and at the moment I wanted nothing more than to shake my husband awake and share my victory. I hesitated, though. I knew he’d wake up as sweet as a grizzly bear and I wanted to share with someone who would be happy for me. I quite doubted that my husband, as grumpy as he’d been lately, would fit the bill.

  Deciding that I was too elated to sleep, I slipped out of bed, sliding my flowered house shoes onto my feet. I began to pad toward the door, in search of a snack. I had my hand on the cold metal of the doorknob when I heard Dean’s drowsy voice calling me. I turned around and gave him a sweet smile. “I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

  “I tried to wait up,” he said, sitting up in bed. His gray eyes took me in and lit with a fire that I hadn't seen in a long time as he beckoned me over by holding his hand out toward me.

  It was so unfamiliar to me and contrasted so much with what I'd expected that I hesitated.

  “Come here, baby. I want to talk to you.”

  The softness of his gentle, husky voice gave me the push I needed and sent me toward him. I sat tentat
ively on the edge of the bed only to be pulled into his arms. I exhaled the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and nestled into the warm cocoon of his arms. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “You. Your day. It was your first as night manager, right?”

  I was surprised at the lack of venom in his voice. “Yes, sir.”

  “How'd it go?”

  “It was great.” I shivered as I felt him tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Thanks for asking.”

  “You're welcome.”

  I felt him bend his head and before I could say more, he pushed my robe down, baring my shoulder. When his lips brushed the bared skin it prickled with goose bumps. “Dean...”

  “Hmm?”

  I could hear the deep longing in his voice and it made me shiver anew. We hadn’t made love in the last three weeks and had only done it twice since having moved off post. Those occasions had been full of rushed kisses and hard, angry thrusts that had left me feeling anything but loved. But this...this felt different right from the onset.

  “I'm sorry.”

  “Sorry?” I blinked in surprise and tilted my head to look at him. I found his eyes looking right into mine, and drew in my breath sharply at the emotion in the liquid pools of his eyes. They seemed so full of love and something else that I couldn’t name. If I didn't know any better I'd swear it was regret.

  “Yes. I'm sorry, Shelby. I haven’t been supportive. I've been an ass.”

  I bit into my bottom of my lip to stifle a giggle. I’d never heard my husband call himself an ass before; if he was hoping I would contradict him, though, I was afraid he’d be badly disappointed.

  “It’s true,” he said. “I have been argumentative and not nearly helpful enough around here. I'm going to do better.”

  “I understand,” I assured him, eager to forgive. “I know you've gone through a lot. The Army meant everything to you. I know how hard this has been.”

  Dean closed his eyes for a moment, but not before I saw something...what was it? Was it guilt lurking in his eyes? I couldn't be sure. “Yes, you're right. I did love the Army. But I love you more, and it's time that I prove that to you. I'm going to start today.”