by B. C. Sirrom
Three Years Later
I wrote home a lot during my first deployment. I described the United States’ noble mission to right a third world country’s woes. I guess I was trying to brag. I told them about the places I had been, people I had seen, and possibly exaggerated the things I was doing. They didn’t write back.
My brother handed me a letter on my first visit on leave with a “We never got to the post office.” The letter was hardly half finished, but I pocketed it anyway. I read it often while on base. It wasn’t for the content but as a reminder. I didn’t want that life.
“Love letter from a girl?” J. Nelson teased. The ‘J’ stood for ‘Jennifer’ but she preferred ‘Nelson’. I was the only one allowed to call her ‘Jay’.
“My brother.” She already knew that, but this was like a game we played. She was the only person I considered a friend.
“Ewwww...I knew you hillbillies married your cousins, but your brother!”
“Ha-ha.” I offered the expected forced laugh.
“Anything new?” She asked seriously.
“Not since the last time I read it.”
“Why do you keep reading it then?”
“Something to do. Besides, even if they did write it again, would say the same things.”
“Sounds like an exciting place.” Jay boldly snatched my letter. I never let her read my letter before. As she scanned the messy handwriting her playful expression went blank. She carefully re-folded the worn page and tucked it into my shirt pocket. “Sorry.”
“Wasn’t what you expected?” I asked.
“No. It’s pretty messed up actually.” Jay wouldn’t look at me.
I laughed. It was a cruel sound. “Yes. Yes it is.” I recounted the high points of the letter. “All the kids have lice. Sixteen-year-old brother is a father of two. Stepmom is preggo with number four. But, it's nice when uncle and nephew are in the same grade.” I surrendered. I didn’t have to live there anymore. “Eleven and counting living in a five room shack. S.S.D.D., Jay. S.S.D.D.”
“Same Shit. Different Day.” She understood.
We sat quiet, but comfortable as the sun went down. Dusk is my favorite time of day. It’s the time the whole world is soft. All the ugliness gets disguised in purple and gold.
“Look out.” Jay warned. “Here come the ass-hats.”
I wanted to laugh, but I knew who she was talking about. I groaned instead. Privates Monte, Bowman and Cort could always be heard well before they were seen. They subscribed to the masculine notion that the louder you were, the more important you sounded.
“Walker.” The self-appointed leader, Monte yelled by way of starting the conversation. “You’re in tonight, no pussing out.” I never could tell if Monte wanted to be my buddy or kick my ass.
“Not interested, Monte.”
“Dude! You are going. You’re twenty-one today. You’re like completely legal now and shit.”
I only shrugged. Jay elbowed me. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”
“You can come too, Nelson, but you’ll have to put on something tight.” Monte leered.
“You’re such a tool.”
Monte didn’t quite understand that she was insulting him. Instead he resumed badgering me. “Tonight. The South Pole. You’re going.” Monte’s buddies whistled and cat-called. The South Pole was a notorious strip club. It was also the only strip club near base. The guys reverted back to pre-pubescence whenever it was mentioned. I didn’t see the appeal.
Monte left and the others followed. They slapped each other’s backs and strutted at their great non-accomplishment.
“So...are you gonna go?” Nelson asked, almost timid.
I rubbed my face, weary. “Probably. Just to get Monte off my back.”
“Sure. I’m sure that’s the only reason.” She snipped.
“Hey!” I was startled by her sudden change of mood. “I don’t want to go, but Monte will never let it go. It’s better if I just go have a beer. Then he’ll drop it.”
“Okay, fine.” She jumped up. “I gotta go. Bye.”
