by Rockow, B.
Jones smiled and shook his head. “This kind of therapy would cost me more than my tab here.”
Penny laughed. “Not if you keep throwing back those shots of bourbon.”
“This happens to every soldier I’ve known,” Jones said. “We’ve got a name for it. The Jodi Call. In the eight years I spent over there, I always knew that I could get the Jodi Call. It was always in the back of my mind. But I trusted Vanessa.”
Penny nodded knowingly. “So she cheated on you.”
“That’s right,” Jones said. “But you might as well say she ripped out my heart, tossed it in a sewer, and pissed on it as it fell down.” Jones shook his head and laughed. “Looking back on it, a Jodi Call would’ve been nice. I had to walk in on it, the day after I got home.”
“She wanted to get caught,” Penny said. “She’s a whore. What did you do to the Jodi?”
Jones smirked. “Kicked the piss out of him,” he said. “Took him by his feet, buck naked, and dragged him out into the middle of the street. In broad daylight. The whole neighborhood got to see what went down.”
“No shame, the lot of you.”
“I wasn’t gonna sweat it,” Jones said. “I’m sure he felt great when he finally came to.”
Penny picked up another bar glass. She felt bad for Jones. She hated to see such an honest, strong man in the dumps. She knew what could cheer him up. She picked up another beer glass and started to dry it off. Penny knew that her wiles and assets wouldn’t be enough to mend the soldier’s wounds entirely, but they’d at least make him forget about the pain for awhile. As she wiped down the beer glass, she leaned forward. She looked right into the Sarge’s eyes. “I want you Jones,” she said. She pouted her lips and batted her eyes. “Tonight. You and me. It’s on at my place.”
Twenty minutes ago Jones wouldn’t have played along. But he felt a little better now that somebody he trusted knew what happened. A sudden burst of energy surged through his body. He wanted to take Penny then and there. “I’m game.”
Penny poured Jones another beer, and poured two shots of Maker’s Mark. They took the shots together. “Damn. That’s good bourbon,” she said. “Ain’t nothing like it.”
Jones nodded in agreement. “Cheers to that,” he said. He lifted the empty shot glass and motioned for another. “Let’s do it again.”
Penny grabbed his arm and pushed it down onto the bar counter. She leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips. She pulled back after a couple seconds and winked. “That was better than any shot I could pour.”
Jones couldn’t help but laugh. That was a damn good kiss, he thought. Better than any kiss Vanessa gave him. His imagination pondered what else Penny could do with those lips. Jones motioned for another shot. Penny obliged. He threw back the shot and coughed. “That one got me,” he said. “Can’t throw them back like I used to.” He sipped his PBR and shook his head. “The whole Vanessa thing,” he said. “I’m over it. It’s behind me. I spend ten years with the broad, father her children, put my life on the line for eight years in the service, and for what? Come home and see her on all fours, ass up.”
“Cheers to that,” Penny said. “I knew you’d come around.”
Jones was pleased with his decision to come down to The Small Tavern. He always had a thing for Penny, but never acted on it. He had respected Vanessa too much. “We’ll see who comes around first tonight,” he said mischieviously. “Ah, shit Penny. You know, there’s actually some other stuff I want to get off my chest.” He paused and the look on his face turned dead serious. “But you’ve got to promise to keep this on the down low.”
Penny took Jones seriously. “I promise.”
Presently, a couple frat boys with popped collars and white ball caps stumbled into the bar. They were accompanied by a young woman who was at least twice as intoxicated as the frat boys.
“Jaeger bombs,” the three students said in unison.
The woman threw down a twenty dollar bill and winked. “Keep the change sexy,” she said to Penny.
“Oh I will,” Penny said. She could appreciate a girl with some balls. Penny started preparing the Jaeger bombs. She loved pouring them. It was the quickest way to get frat boys to stumble into walls, and for sorority girls to puke their guts out. She hated cleaning it up, but it was a riot to watch.
One of the frat boys took the woman by the hand and they scurried off to the back to set up a game of pool. The other frat boy stood next to Jones. He was a hair taller than the Sergeant, and glowed with an orangish tan. He looked like a poorly rendered cartoon. “Hey man,” he said to Jones. “I’ve got a question for you.”
“Go for it,” Jones said. He was amused already. This frat boy was going to be fun. “I’m a magic eight ball, at your service.”
“Man you’re funny,” the frat boy said. “But seriously, why do chicks always go for the assholes?”
Jones pulled out a cigarette and rested it between his lips. He lit the end and took a drag. The frat boy looked puzzled. Smoking was illegal inside any bar, tavern, or pub. “I’ll answer your question with a question,” Jones said. He blew the smoke into the frat boy’s face. “Do you find me attractive?”
The frat boy shrugged his shoulders. “You look like you can bag a doe or two.”
Penny rolled her eyes. “Bag a doe?” she said under her breath. She turned around and started working on counting the change in her till. “Is that what they’re calling us these days?”
Jones took another drag. “I’ll tell you,” he said. “The past eight years I’ve been fighting for this country. Made a lot of orphans and widows doing so. Probably killed a dozen hajjis who were younger than you. And for what? So I could come back to this damn fine country and bag a doe.”
“Man, you’re awesome,” the frat boy said. He stuck out his fist for a bump. “Hit it.”
Jones reciprocated. He snuffed out his cigarette between the tips of his forefinger and thumb, without so much as a wince. “Fought for eight long years, man. Come back and guess what I find? Some jogger douchebag, balls deep in my wife.”
“That’s whack,” the frat boy said.
“Whack. Brilliant turn of phrase,” Jones said. “Anyways, how about we take a shot together. I come to know a man by the way he throws back a shot.”
Penny poured a double for each of them. The two men threw back the liquor. Jones cleared the booze with ease, adding a bit of flair to the end as he snapped his fingers and licked the inside of the shot glass. The frat boy struggled with the bourbon, and had to finish it in two gulps. The second try proved difficult. He almost lost it all and puked.
The frat boy regained his composure. With watery eyes, he set the shot glass down on the counter as cool as possible. “The name’s Pete,” he said. “Pete Adams. I go to school here at the U of O.”
Jones extended his hand for a shake. He took Pete’s hand with a vice-like grip. “A pleasure to meet you Nancy,” Jones said deadpan. “I’m sure your training at the diploma mill will prepare you well for a daring life out in the wild, bagging does, and what have you.” He released Pete’s hand, and took a sip from his PBR. “You can call me Jones.”
Pete just stood there not knowing how to respond. He looked over to Penny for assistance, but she turned away to hide her laughter.
“Have a seat, buddy,” Jones said. He was drunk now, and his lips were loose. “By the way you throw back your bourbon, I’d guess that you’re man enough to sit at this bar counter. And you’re just in time. I had just started telling the lovely Penny here about something I saw over in Afghanistan.”
Jones ordered two more PBRs. The other frat boy and their female companion came up to the bar to get their Jaeger bombs. They sensed that Pete was somehow getting involved with Jones, and they weren’t comfortable enough to interrupt. They took their Jaeger bombs back to the pool table and continued their game. Pete stayed at the bar counter and sipped his PBR.
“Let’s hear it,” Penny said. “I guess this stays between us three now.�
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Jones nodded. “That’s right,” he said to Pete. “Swear on your left nut that this stays between us.”
“I swear,” Pete said. “By my left nut.”
Jones slapped Pete’s crotch with the back of his fingertips. “That’s just to make sure you had something to swear on.”
Pete clenched his groin and yelped with pain. “Damn, was that necessary?”
“Just means that I trust you enough to go there,” Jones said. “So as I was saying. Me and my fireteam, I fight with the First Infantry Division, also known as the Big Red One. We’re out in the wastelands of Afghanistan. Someplace between Kabul and Jalalabad. The air was crystal blue, like the ocean, only above you. The terrain was rough and tumble; real hellish, that whole country is. Up ahead I see something on the mountain, so I send my boys to check it out. There’s a false alarm. The sniper, Roddy, a good Puerto Rican dude from New York, he shoots a pika.”
“Like, a pikachu?” Pete said.
“Something like that. I heard the guys crack jokes about it. Anyways, false alarm. So Wimpy and Big Boy are up there scouting around this boulder. And that’s when the action starts.” Jones paused and looked both Penny and Pete in the eyes. He held up his finger to make a point. “Now, what I’m gonna tell you next is absolutely true. So no laughs. One of my men died on this mission. Big Boy, he was more than a grunt, he was a friend.”
Penny was absorbed in the story. Her green eyes softened in the telling, as she watched Jones passionately tell his story. Penny leaned her short, curvy frame on the back wall, all ears to what was going to happen next. She was expecting some sort of ambush, a typical war story.
“Next thing we know,” Jones continued without skipping a beat. The liquor was starting to go to his head. All in all, he was working on his tenth drink in two hours. He animated the storytelling with waving hands and peppered it with lunges and dives. “We see these two giants lumber out from the boulder. No shit, giants. They’re dipped in all black, can’t see a thing on them. One of them rushes Big Boy and rips out a chunk of his stomach.”
Penny was startled. She felt so bad for Jones, losing a good friend like that. She had heard stories about Big Boy before, and Jones promised to bring his buddy into The Small Tavern some day. “So what’d you guys do?” Penny asked.
Jones closed his eyes and gulped his PBR. “We smoke the ghouls. I have a brief conversation with one of them before I put a hot piece of lead right through his skull. They’re monsters, I tell you. They’re not human. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. It gets deeper.”
“Creepy,” Pete said. “I always thought Afghanistan was a weird place.”
“A really weird place,” Jones said. “It’s the devil’s land. You feel close to heaven there, and conversely, hell.” Jones wiped his eyes. They were starting to tear up, but he held the waterworks at bay. “Man, so this is where the mission starts getting really weird.”
Pete hunched forward. He was at the edge of his seat. Penny forgot what she was doing once again and devoted her full attention to Jones and his story. “Go on,” they both said.
“So Roddy and I walk around to the boulder. He finds this secret tunnel, and we crawl through this trap door. Deep beneath this boulder the tunnel’s pitch black. We make our way to the end, treading careful, and you won’t believe what I found.” Jones took another swig. “Let’s just say that life ended there. Nothing shall pass, don’t pass go, don’t collect your two hundred dollars. The shade of death, or something even worse than that.”
The Sergeant’s arms rippled with gooseflesh. He was wearing a short sleeve black Dickie’s button up shirt. Penny reached across the bar and caressed his arms to calm him. “If you want to stop here,” Penny said. “I’d understand.”
“Yeah man,” Pete said. “You’re as badass as they come. I can tell. But if you want to stop man, I wouldn’t be mad at you.”
Jones clenched his fist. “I find a pile of bones,” he continued. “There must have been two, three hundred skulls, femurs, hips. I can’t turn around. I have to see more. I realize right then, and I’m just realizing it now, that once I saw what was further down this tunnel, I could never go back up to the light and be the same again. My path would forever be down, down, down into the depths of ugly. Stacked neatly next to the tower of bones are uniforms of United States soldiers. Some were fresh kills.”
By this time Penny had poured three shots for herself, Pete, and Jones. She handed the two guys theirs, and threw back hers. They followed suit.
“You took that step,” Pete said. “Man, you took a step that you can’t take back.”
Jones hung his head. “You’re exactly right, my friend,” he said. “You’ve got it.”
Just then the Sergeant’s cell phone started to buzz. He slipped his iPhone from his pocket and looked at the screen. It lit up bright with the one name he wished would disappear. Vanessa. “I’ll be back in a minute,” Jones said. “It’s a private call.”
Jones excused himself from the conversation and stepped outside. He paced down the sidewalk about a half a block before answering. A couple bums asked him for cigarettes. Jones ignored them, and found a park bench to sit on. “Yeah,” was the only word he said.
“Yeah,” Vanessa said. “Yeah. Yeah. Where are you? Drinking again. Yeah. Yeah. You don’t even have to answer that. Just yeah.”
Jones bit the end of his thumb. “Yeah, I’m drinking.”
“Down at The Small Tavern. You just had to get your Penny fix, didn’t you. Yeah. Yeah.”
Jones sped up his pace. “Oh, shit Vanessa,” he said. “You have some big balls calling me and accusing me of anything.”
“Yeah, so tell me what she’s wearing. I bet it’s sexy. Her tight little ass must look great tonight.”
“You sound ridiculous,” Jones said. “I just needed to relax. Have a drink or two.”
Vanessa sobbed. She had been holding in so much over the last eight years. Everything had been great on the surface. She loved Jones. She would die for her husband. But along with her devotion, a current of resentment flowed. “I just can’t do it anymore,” she stuttered between sobs. “You being gone all the time. Signing up for every tour.” She was on the verge of breaking down. “You don’t know what it’s like, William. Thinking that at any moment, I could get the call.”
Jones knew it was hard on Vanessa. But she crossed the line in her rebellion. And that’s exactly what it was with the jogger: rebellion. “I fought for my country,” Jones said. “I signed up for what was right. But you know what? More than anything? These last eight years were for you and our family.” Jones clenched his jaw. He struggled with his next words. “I just can’t believe what you did to me, Vanessa. I just don’t know why.”
“I love you!” Vanessa shouted. “I love you so damn much! But you were gone so much, it was like you didn’t exist to me anymore. You were a figment of my imagination. A fantasy. I couldn’t be alone anymore. I just couldn’t.”
Jones stood up from the bench and jabbed the air. He bit his lips so he wouldn’t berate her. “You know you could’ve talked to me,” he said. “Anytime, anywhere, you could’ve said something. I thought we were tight, Vanessa. I thought our bond was eternal. And look at what you did. You threw it away while I was gone over there in hell, with that piece of shit jogger? I just can’t believe it. I just can’t.”
Vanessa attempted a defense. But Jones was done.
Jones clicked the red end call button. He made his way back to the tavern. The conversation with Vanessa was too much for him to handle. He couldn’t believe her audacity. He had given her everything, nearly sacrificing his own life for their stability, and she tossed it all in the shitter. After so many years, this is what it all came down to.
The gravity of the situation was dispelled once Jones stepped foot into the tavern. Pete and Penny greeted Jones with enthusiasm. They seemed a lot closer than when Jones had left them; and that was okay by him.
“Jones! You’re b
ack!” Pete welcomed the Sergeant back with open arms. The frat boy radiated an uncharacteristic warmth. Jones was put off at first, but his defenses rapidly fell. Pete wrapped his arms around him. “It’s been so awesome to meet you,” Pete said. “Penny’s been telling me so much about how great you really are. It’s an honor. A real honor.”
Jones disengaged from the embrace. It felt nice, but he had enough. “Likewise Pete,” he said. He was trying to sound as genuine as possible. “Penny’s pretty great too.” At least that part rang true.
“You’re just a bundle of love, Jones,” Penny said. “I was just telling Pete how much you’ve rocked our world and kept our country free. Hooah, my friend.”
“Hooah,” Jones said.
“Hooah. So, let’s hear what happened,” Pete said. “We’re dying to know what happened in the tunnel.” Pete retracted from his initial enthusiasm. He realized that Jones might want to stay mum on the whole thing. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to.”
“Ah, lucky fucky,” Jones said. “I need another shot.”
“Buzzkill?” Penny said.
“Major buzzkill.” Jones rubbed his temples until Penny delivered on the bourbon. Jones lifted his shot glass and clinked with the others. “May those that love their lives never cross my wife. There, I almost rhymed. Now drink.”
“A great toast!” Pete said. He threw back his shot.
“So where was I?” Jones said.
“You’re in the tunnel and just came across the uniforms,” Penny said. “And Jones, you don’t have to go on if you don’t want to.”
Jones nodded and sat next to Pete. “You ever have the feeling that you were about to lose everything?”
Pete thought for a moment, and shook his head no.
“I get that sometimes,” Jones said. “It’s from the war. You lose a lot. You take a lot. It’s nothing to see a shrink about, but it’s tough. It bleeds into everything. I loved Vanessa, you know. She’s my wife. The mother of my child, well, soon to be children. I’ll have a son soon, born from a woman who ripped my heart out. And I’ll tell you why. Every morning that I wake up, my gut tells me that I’m gonna lose it all. And that oozes out of me. It touches everything that I love.”
