McKinsey's Choice

by Heyward, Brenda

  She awoke from her memory, looked out of the window and saw that it was raining. She walked out on the front porch, stood in the rain and cried. After she returned to the house, she turned on every television and light. .That was the time she decided she could work at the store when all was quiet. Her and Arthur’s business was named “T’s on Time” a t-shirt business for young adults. Most of them loved displaying their thoughts on their clothes.

  The next day, the dream returned. This time, McKinsey woke up screaming for Arthur. No one came to help; she asked herself why. Suddenly, she remembered that she had moved into her home and her parents were not there to hear her. She reached for the bottle that was sitting on the nightstand. She poured more of the clear liquid into a glass, so that she could relax and get back to sleep. She did not want to feel or think about the love that was no longer there for her.

  This time she went to her business to see what she could do to ensure her business continued. She had not realized until that she got to the store there were many things that needed her attention. She sat there looking at the unfilled orders. That night the time just flew by and when she looked up, she heard someone unlocking the front door to her business.

  “McKinsey I am so glad you’re here, can I assist you with anything?” Cathey said smiling glad to see her back. Customers’ enquired about for her they loved they way she respected them and understood immediately what they wanted.

  “Cathey, I see that you have been doing the best you could. Now that I’m back I can help things run a little smoother again.” As she knobbed her head and pointed her hand toward the stack of paperwork that she had completed.

  “Our ad has been going well, but you know it is time to prepare for the seasonal change. Teenagers always wanted to be upfront on whatever is coming out new.,” she said excitedly because McKinsey ideas always made the crowd run to their doors. She was sitting in a chair at her dining room table looking at the book that she put together herself, to tell her where to place things. She had already decorated their home with the gifts that she had asked people to buy. She was so anxious; she monitored the stores to discover if the items that she had dreamt about and selected as her wedding gifts. Now, she realized that she might have to return them, since the marriage did not happen.

  During the nights, she continuously refilled the glass, as she walked through the store and worked on the orders Cathey had left on her office desk waiting for the sun to rise. After she saw the light appear in the sky, she would return home to lie down to get some sleep. She repeated this action for the next week, refusing to answer the phone or the door and leaving her business before anyone saw her.

  ****

  The plane ride back to his military post was hard on Wilson; the memories of the pranks Alexander had played came to mind each time he closed his eyes. They had lived in the same room for years; on the plane ride back, Wilson kept hoping that Alexander's death was not real. He looked around the plane, hoping to see his best friend.

  Back in Afghanistan, the pain of not having his friend to talk to continued to take a told of Wilson. The plane ride back had given him too much time to think. He started to write about the pain he felt. Alexander had always handled the letters, whenever others needed to communicate their feelings.

  He and Alexander had been together for so long, he had not even dreamed about not having him around every day. Now, the ache of not having him near to share jokes or pranks scared Wilson. Who would support him now? They had been together a long time. He was now twenty-four; the things that they had done over the years had bonded them forever. They had joined the military together, served together and had only one year left of their three-year tours.

  The thought of Alexander killed at home on vacation, rather than here in Afghanistan where the bullets were continuously flew, perplexed Wilson. This disturbed Wilson greatly, and the question of why continually came to mine. Alexander had saved his ass so many times from mistakes he had made both here and when they were growing up. All he could think of was, "Who will look out for me now?"

  When he reported to headquarters, he stopped by his Platoon Leaders office. “Sergeant, can I speak to you for a minute?” Wilson asked, as he stood in the office doorway.

  Waving Wilson into his office, he signaled for him to close the door behind him. “I know you have been shocked by the events of the past few days," the Sergeant began, "but remember that you still have a job to do. I know the story behind you and Alexander, and Son; I will support you in recovering from such a loss. Do you feel you need to talk to someone? You have a year left; do you think you can handle it here alone without your friend? Over fifth teen years is a long time to befriend someone and not grieve for their passing.

  “Sergeant, I just wanted to ask if I could be the one to pack Alexander's belongings and send them home to his family,” Wilson requested. He wanted to make sure that no one but he went through Alexander’s things. He needed to do this for Alexander's family.

  “Sure," the Sergeant agreed. "But remember, everything must be shipped on the next mail plane going out Tuesday morning. Get out of my office, we all lose loved ones, Son,” He used the most shut-up-and-roll-with-the-punches voice he could muster. The sergeant would also miss Alexander, who was a natural-born leader that the younger soldiers followed. Now, the Sergeant had to pick his replacement. He had prayed for Alexander’s family and Wilson when he heard the news.

  When Wilson returned to their room, he stood there, shortly, to look at where his friend had gotten dressed, had played pranks on him and where they had talked for hours. He retrieved the boxes he needed to pack Alexander's things from the Supply Room, but the thought of knowing that once it was done Alexander would no longer be a part of his life, made him tremble. As he started packing, he found more jokes that Alexander had planned to play on him. Wilson could only smile, thinking how his friend had been a part of him, like a brother. He also found letters Alexander had written to McKinsey that needed mailing. His friend was always prepared.

  Wilson felt Alexander was the strong one, while he came along for the ride. Loading the plane with his items, Wilson felt just as devastated as he did when he saw the car after the accident. The accident replayed in his mind, since he was in the car behind the one in which Alexander and Arthur rode.

  As the car advanced around the deadly curve that day, a truck traveled into their lane and pushed the car over the cliff. The car that Wilson was in was far enough back to avoid the accident. He wondered why god had spared him. That morning, he had been the one scheduled to ride in the fatal car, but Arthur’s friend arrived as a surprise. Wilson suggested that he ride along with him, so that they could talk.

  Wilson had been back in Afghanistan for a few weeks when he decided to rearrange the room he found a note that fell behind the desk. As he bent over to pick up the mail, he recognized Alexander’s handwriting. He hesitated before he picked it up off the floor.

  He wondered when Alexander had written the letter. It had to have been before they left to go to McKinsey's wedding. He walked over to his bed, flipping the letter from front to back and wondering what prank Alexander had had in store for him. He had no way to give Alexander his reply. “Damn! Damn!” he shouted. Wilson tore open the letter and read what had written inside that Alexander at cooked up,

  Your turn pal; your love has gotten married. It is time to move on. You had years to step up to the plate. Now all you can do is look thru the window. Stop hurting Linda give her a fair chance now she loves you. I have a surprise for you later.

  Alexander

  That letter only brought back memories of their talks, over the years. Alexander knew Wilson’s deepest secrets; now who would share them? Just from reading the letter, he thought about his love for McKinsey and still wished that they could have a future together.

  Sitting there on his bed, he could see her five-foot-three figure, brown golden skin, lips always shining and making you want to reach over and steal a kiss from them. Fi
rm, petite breasts complimented her small frame, rounded hips that he would fall victim to, if he could have just one feel of them in his hands. She had worn the same size since she was sixteen and anything she wore looked damned good on her.

  He looked up and saw it was raining, something rarely seen in Afghanistan, so he decided to walk out for a few minutes. If he saw someone in the rain, he thought, no one would notice he had been crying.

  “Hello Wilson” Linda said smiling she had missed him.

  “Linda,” as he placed the letter that was in his hand into his pocket.

  “When will you be going back out on patrols? I am free now. Let’s take advantage of our time,” she said walking into his tent.

  ****

  It was Saturday morning when the doorbell rang. McKinsey hesitated for a minute; she still was not ready to take on company. She could not bear hearing people tell her that they knew how she felt when they did not. Most of her family's spouses were still living. Her future was the one changed forever.

  As she looked around the house, she only wanted to cry. She just lifted the glass from her hand to her mouth. As she listened to the knock, it crossed her mind that the people knocking on the door seemed quite persistent. She went over to open it.

  “Hello,” she said, as she pulled the door open with a frown on her face. She noticed that it was the mail carrier.

  “Miss, I was given instructions to knock until someone came to the door," the mail carrier reported. "I apologize for disturbing you. May I have your name?” After she gave him her name, he looked at his list and nodded. “Please sign here," as he handed the package.

  She looked at the return address on the package, as tears started to roll down her face. The package was from her brother; he was the prankster of the family. He remembered everything you told him. She realized, as she looked down on the package, it said please deliver this package on this date that her and Arthur would have returned home from vacation.

  On the top of the package was a card attached saying, “open me first” with a smiley face drawn at the end. She started smiling and crying at the same time. Her brother brought life to you even when he was not standing next to you.

  With the package in hand, she closed the door and started shaking and sweating from the memories it brought back. She then walked over to the nearest table and placed the package on it. She was not ready to see what he had left her. She knew that the package contained a video and thought that she would watch it later.

  The phone had been ringing, it seemed, constantly that day, and then it rang again. All she could think of was, "Please leave me the hell alone. Or maybe now that she was getting work done at night maybe it could be Cathey from her store." Nevertheless, she answered it.

  “Hello, why in the hell are you trying to ruin my day?” she blurted, not knowing who was on the other end of the phone.

  “McKinsey, this is Wilson," her friend announced. "I have been trying to call you to alert you that your brother and I sent you a surprise. I did not want it to upset you too much. However, I must be late. The package must have arrived. Am I right?” He had grown up with Alexander and his sister. He knew them all too well.

  “McKinsey, are you there? Please answer me,” he pleaded. He got a little nervous for a second; he did not know whether she had hung up the phone. He was relieved when he could still hear her breathing in the mouthpiece. “McKinsey?” he repeated.

  “Yes?” she replied, after she realized she was just moving her head up and down and not saying a word.

  “Why are you in that house by yourself and not at your parents' house?" he challenged. "You are not ready for the secrets that are hidden there.” All he could remember was his parents’ bedroom each time as he walked in there he hoped to find them inside, and how he felt when realized they no longer lived there. Even through they had died in a card accident and left him the house. He had rented it out until he thought he could handle not seeing them at every turn along with the memories it held.

  She was not ready to listen to anyone tell her what to do, so she hung up the phone, raised the glass in her hand up to her mouth once again. She turned and walked down the hall toward her bedroom to lie down. She slept in the day, worked at the store in the night.

  ****

  It was McKinsey’s first day back to work during the day. Her thoughts about the questions that she would get from her clients and the people who worked for her troubled her. How would she reply? When she walked through the door of her building, she recognized some faces as they whispered.

  As she moved through her store, people called her name and said hello. She waved to her employees as she continued walking through the store to her office. After entering her office, she acknowledged the people as they dropped by her office to see that she was all right. All she wanted to do was shout and tell them to leave her alone. Her thoughts were now on her business that needed her attention if she wanted it to survive.

  ****

  “Sergeant, what in the hell were you doing out there today, trying to play Superman?" the Platoon Sergeant ranted. "Don’t you know that bombs kill? You truly took the lead out their today. "Get the hell out of my office.” He hoped that Wilson would be one of the soldiers that returned home from this hellhole. He had watched Wilson over the past few weeks as he had grown and mimic leadership behaviors to protect his team at all costs to worm off impending situations.

  As Wilson stepped outside of the headquarters tent, he just stood there for a minute after taking off his hat, feeling the rain as it dropped on his face. When his team was out in the field, they were in a battle with bullets flying everywhere when he had heard someone yell “grenade” had been throw in their direction as the others tried to get away from the explosion. He ran in the direction of it, picked it up, and threw it with seconds to spare. His actions allowed most of his fellow soldiers to come out of the situation unharmed. “Why had he done that? He knew the answer, but was not ready to admit it.

  He walked over to the hospital tent to see how the other soldiers were doing. As he walked in, he received a clap as he entered the room. He also received a thumbs-up from those who were only slightly hurt from the explosion.

  He believed that he only had scrapes from hitting the ground hard and fast. He needed some peroxide to clean them. He looked at each of the soldiers there at the hospital, searching for Alexander’s face in one of them.

  “You got lucky out there today, soldier; the other soldiers told us how you took the lead and got them out safely,” the Officer congratulated, while he looked at Wilson's tattered clothes, searching visually to see if the sergeant had any signs of injuries.

  “I just got some scrapes that all,” Wilson said.

  When he walked back out of the door of the hospital, he heard someone yell his name. He turned and watched as the soldier ran over in his direction. “You haven’t come by to pick up your mail for a few days, so I figured that after hearing what you did, I would bring it over as a gesture of thanks,” the soldier explained, as he handed him his mail.

  ****

  Wilson’s platoon was on patrol, he had six months left on his enlistment he had not decided whether to reenlist. The thoughts of what he should do were going through his mind when he heard the sounds gunfire. Then someone yelled, “Take Cover!” The bullets started flying all around him; he dropped to the ground. The other soldiers started making their way to seek protection for their own safety.

  He heard the other soldiers yelling, "The sounds are coming from the east; get down!" They headed west, away from the direction of the firing. Wilson decided that he would not follow. He charged in the direction of the weapons fire and hid behind what ever he could find. As he lay behind a rock near some bushes, he heard something move. Men were talking very close to where he was hiding. He raised his head slightly as the enemies bullets continued to fly. He felt something pass close by his head just as quickly that something stung him like a fly, not realizing the bullet had hit him, h
e quickly lowered his head. He crawled until it found more protection then took his hat off. He patted his head and felt nothing he thought but the sweat of being scared. He peered, this time he saw an enemy soldier stand up to take another shot at the men from his platoon. He fired at the enemy, hitting him in the chest. This alarmed the man that was next to the wounded enemy soldier.

  He then started rapidly firing around his perimeter, just trying to hit something before they got him. Wilson kept hidden until the man emptied his weapon and then he fired, hitting the enemy in the chest and leg.

  He stayed in his position a few second to see if anymore-enemy soldiers were there. However, he could not hear anything. He decided to check the enemies’ hideout before slowly moving back in the direction of where his platoon may have scattered as he approached the wounded men of his platoon.

  He sounded the all clear and watched as the ones who were still able to walk helped those who could not. The radioman called for support. Wilson and a few other soldiers took the perimeter while the waited for assistance.

  When he made it back to camp, he went straight to the hospital.

  “I have been up a long time," he reported to the nurse. "I am tired; I had a run-in with the neighbors. It is my arm; can I get it checked?”

  “Sure, right this way Sergeant; please go down to room eight," the nurse replied pointing down the hall. "I will send the Officer up to assist you.”

  After he entered the room, Wilson said to himself, “I will take a quick nap while I wait." He lay down on the table to wait for the Officer.

  ****

  McKinsey lived in her own world, nothing was more important than the spirits that was in her glass. When she was at home, she refused to answer the telephone or the doorbell. She got tired of relatives trying to interfere in her business.

  As she stood there in her house, McKinsey listened to the constant knocking at her door. The only thought that went through her mind was that the mail carrier better get away from her door. She remembered the last time he was there, because of the box that was still on the hallway table. It reminded her each time she passed it. Why hadn’t she moved that box? "Comfort," she said to herself.