Wow, I wrote a lot more than I expected. I hope you’re still doing well! Please, let me know if I’m boring you, I know all of this must seem pretty mundane to someone who’s immersed in the daily heat of battle. Once again, please stay safe.
Love and miss you,
Lauren
CHAPTER 6
———
April 29, 2013
Lauren,
You don’t know how excited I am to receive this letter. I’m really happy to hear that things are going well for you. I remember you making me amazing sandwiches so many times during high school, so I know you’re phenomenal in the kitchen. Honestly, I can’t picture any job better for you than running your own restaurant. It’s not surprising to me at all that your shop was a quick success. I can’t wait to get home and check it out—most of the stuff we eat out here is terrible, Army rations and the like. I haven’t had any real good cooking in a long time (well, I had a bowl of goat stew at a small Afghani restaurant, but I have to say that it was pretty questionable!).
Overall, life has been going well lately. We’ve gone on several successful operations recently and we’ve had zero casualties since I sent my last letter. Everyone has generally been in good spirits. All things considered, I’m doing pretty well, and I have to say that your frequent letters are doing a lot to lift my spirits.
I was just informed recently that I will be joining the operation in Kandahar. It’s a province in southern Afghanistan that is crucial to the security of the country. It’s an elite mission and I was handpicked by my lieutenant to join this new squadron. I just wanted to give you fair warning that it is also one of the most dangerous provinces in Afghanistan. I don’t want you to worry; I have a good head on my shoulders and the other members of the team are some of the best I’ve ever met, but nonetheless this is a dangerous mission.
I also don’t want you to be surprised when my future letters are short on details. Most of our operations are against high value targets: I’m talking upper echelon Taliban commanders. The operations are highly classified, so much so that you probably will never read about them in the paper or hear about them on the nightly news. But in reality, they’re some of the most important operations of the entire war.
Kandahar is a hell hole, the people are in poverty and have been victimized by the freedom hating Taliban. Afghani citizens live in fear of these monsters who rule by violence and intimidation, and it’s our job to eliminate them from the region. It’s hard to describe how bad it is over here, which is also why I like hearing your stories from home.
I’m so happy for you and your business, and honestly, hearing about it is something that drives me forward toward my goal. There’s no way these extremists would stand for a woman, a strong woman who’s got the brains and the drive to run her own business. I hope one day that the women here can be like you, proud and free to take control of their own destinies. In a lot of ways, I view it as my job to clear a path for them, to make that possibility a reality.
Good luck with your business. And, I don’t want to make you worry, but please pray for me. It’s dangerous here and I’ll take anything I can get to help keep me safe.
Love and miss you,
Sgt. Darren Henderson
My hand trembled. I don’t know what had come over me. Love. LOVE. Did he mean it? Get control of yourself, Lauren, I told myself. It’s just a common expression; it doesn’t mean a damn thing. It was just a word between friends; we cared about each other. That was it, right? It was good to care about someone again. I’d been so busy with the business lately and it was nice to have someone else to think about for once. It is what it is, I thought. But the pattering of my heart said otherwise. I ran to the desk in my living room and grabbed a pen, excited to respond to Darren with another heartfelt letter.
CHAPTER 7
———
As the months went by, Darren and I continued writing each other back and forth like this. The letters got more and more in depth, and also more frequent. I started writing Darren almost every other day, as opposed to every other week. I lived for his letters, excited each time I opened my mailbox to see what he had written to me.
In early October, I opened one of his letters to find a photograph included inside. There was Darren, tan and smiling in desert fatigues as he stood beneath an American flag in the hot, desert sun. The glare ricocheted off his Oakley sunglasses, matched only by the bright white of his huge smile. The dark tan t-shirt practically exploded with the musculature of his biceps as he stood there, surrounded by the drab buildings of the barracks and then sand and mountains as far as the eye could see.
As I stared at the photo I felt my whole body flush. Damn, the Marines had been good to him. He’d always been athletic. I mean, what would you expect of a starting quarterback? But I could see that his Spartan life as a soldier was chiseling his body nearly to the point of perfection. And that smile, how could I have forgotten that smile? It was the same smile he’d flashed every time we saw each other in the hallways in high school. But now he looked more grown up—a man who had purpose and knew the importance of his task.
I could feel myself getting wet. I wanted to head upstairs to my bedroom and touch myself after staring at that picture for so long. But I fought the urge, telling myself it could never be; I knew Darren didn’t think of me that way. Besides, I’d put on weight since he’d last seen me—that was one of the negative effects of starting my own sandwich shop. I grabbed a pen and paper and decided to write him back instead.
The weeks went by and my life became even more hectic. Things were getting busier and busier at the shop, especially after we launched our website and received a positive review by a food critic in the local paper. But as busy as my life got, I still always made time to answer Darren’s letters. The fact was that he was becoming a bigger and bigger part of my life. I didn’t want to admit it—I didn’t want to get attached when I didn’t know if he felt the same—but I couldn’t help it.
I had Darren’s picture on my nightstand and every night, he was the last thing I saw before I fell asleep. I was falling for him, and the crazy thing is, it never would have happened if he hadn’t written me that letter. Through all those years in high school all we’d really felt was platonic friendship, but through his letters I was seeing the type of man he’d grown into. I wanted him to come home, and once he was home, I wanted him to be mine. But how long would I have to wait? And was it possible that maybe he felt the same about me?
In late October, I received a letter that brought an even bigger and better surprise than the picture.
CHAPTER 8
———
October 26, 2013
Lauren,
I’ve got big news. I’m going to be home for Christmas and I can’t even tell you how happy that makes me. I love my life as a soldier, but it’s a hard life and I’m ecstatic to finally be coming home to the land I love and the people in my life who mean most to me.
I should be flying in on the night of December 22nd. Can you pick me up at the airport? I can’t wait to see you in person, there’s so much to tell you that I just never got around to saying in these letters. It’s going to be just like old times. And now I’ll finally get a chance to check out your new business. So glad to hear that things are still going well with that.
I’ve got to go because we’re about to be briefed about our next night raid. And don’t worry, it’s pretty routine, so nothing for you to worry about. I know how concerned you get about these things, but I promise I’ll be fine. And think of it this way, in a couple months I’ll be home safe and sound—for good.
See you soon,
Sgt. Darren Henderson
I read the letter three times before the full force of it finally hit me. I’d be seeing Darren in person. In less than two months, he’d be standing right before my very eyes. There was so much to do. My mind raced: how much weight could I lose in two months? I’d need to start dieting and exercising immediately, but where could
I find the time? I was at the shop over ten hours every weekday, and recently I’d found myself going in on the weekend, too. The fact was that the place just couldn’t run without me. Ugh, I’d have to think of something. I needed to look good for Darren.
But maybe I was kidding myself. There was a good chance he didn’t even feel the same way as I did. But there was something in his letters that gave my heart hope, some subtle tone to the things he said, a secret meaning that only I could detect. On the other hand, maybe I was delusional, maybe I was reading unintended meanings into his letters. But I wanted him so badly, I couldn’t help but hope part of him felt exactly the way I did. I couldn’t help myself from imagining a future that involved us being together.
So I bought a treadmill and started running every day before and after work. I stopped snacking at the shop. I only ate salad and Greek yogurt, but I wasn’t seeing any results. Still, I told myself I had to stick with the diet and workout routine. I just thought about what I really wanted: Darren. I was doing it for him, and even though it was painful, I knew I could stick with it, as long as I kept my eye on the prize.
Then I got another letter that turned my entire world upside down.
CHAPTER 9
———
November 11, 2013
Dear Lauren,
My name is Paul Samuels. I’m writing on Darren’s behalf to let you know that he was wounded in our last operation. He’s recovering in a military hospital, but he knew that you’d be worried if you didn’t receive a letter. As I waited with him for a medical helicopter to evacuate him for the battlefield, he told me to write you; he said to look in the shoebox under his cot and I would know what to do.
Well, I looked in that shoebox and I’m not really sure what to do. He’s got a box full of your letters and a picture of you that looks like it’s from a high school yearbook. I’m telling you right here right now, you better be serious about Darren, no matter what happens to him. I’m a Marine and I’ll always look out for a fellow Marine. Darren is like a brother to me, and you better know how damn much you mean to him.
A man doesn’t keep a picture of a woman he doesn’t care about, and he told me he’s been carrying that yearbook photo with him ever since he came to Afghanistan. Always tucks it in his jacket pocket, says it kept him safe. Yes, even when he was dating Jessica. He didn’t bring it with him on our last raid, said he was going home soon and had nothing to worry about.
Well, now our boy is in the hospital and you best be praying for him every night. He’s going to be coming home about a month earlier than planned. I just pray he’s alright when he does. It was bad out there, Lauren. He was in a lot of pain.
Some of the things he said to me, well, maybe he was going into shock at that point, so I don’t know how much to believe him. But I know he cares for you in a way I can’t adequately describe. And I know he’s going to need you when he finally gets home. He’s one of the strongest, toughest men I’ve ever met; that’s how I know he’ll never admit he needs you as bad as he does. I’m just telling you because I know he’s too stubborn to tell you himself.
Please take care, of both yourself and Darren. You’ll be receiving notice when he arrives back in the States.
Best regards,
L.C. Paul Samuels
My cheeks were wet with tears. I was crying, panicked with thoughts of what had happened to Darren. Paul had been too vague in his letter for me to really know if Darren would turn out ok. Clearly, Darren was conscious, or Paul wouldn’t have known all those things about me. But would he be able to walk? Would he be missing an arm or something? Dammit, I had to find out if he was alright.
I grabbed my phone and my laptop and started calling every number I could find, starting with a recruiting station and then the military hospital located upstate. I was put through to the head nurse who confirmed that a Sgt. Henderson was scheduled to be transported to the facility sometime later next week.
“Do you know what happened to him?” I asked meekly over the phone, trying to be strong and stifle my soft weeping.
“It says here he suffered a shrapnel wound. I don’t know anything beyond that,” said the nurse.
“How serious is that?”
“Depends on the case, ma’am.”
“Well, in the other cases you’ve seen, how bad were they?”
“Pretty bad, but like I said, each case is different. It was most likely a roadside bomb, the extent of the damage will depend on how close he was to the blast.”
I was silent on the other end of the phone, not knowing what to make of this woman’s words.
“Mrs. Henderson, are you still there?”
“Uh…” I was confused until I realized I’d told her earlier that I was Darren’s wife; it was the only way they would give me any sort of information. “Yes, yes I’m still here.”
“Do you have any more questions? We’re very busy here, ma’am, so if you’re done I’d like to be getting back to my job.”
“No, that’s all I needed to know,” I said hesitantly, trying to think if there was anything I’d forgotten to ask.
“Goodbye, ma’am.”
The phone clicked as the nurse hung up before I could even say goodbye.
CHAPTER 10
———
For the next few days I was lost, not knowing what I should do or who I might call. I was waiting to hear back from the hospital to tell me Darren had arrived and that I could come see him. The worst part was that I felt so powerless, there was nothing I could do to help Darren. I had no idea what to do with myself, so I did the only thing I could: I started working extra hours at the shop and preparing for Thanksgiving which was right around the corner.
All my exercise plans went completely out the window. I worked over eighty hours that week, came home exhausted and went immediately to bed. I was trying to forget about Darren, but it was impossible. The stress and worry were really getting to me. I was restless at night, barely getting any sleep despite my long and hectic workdays. Something had to give. When would I hear news about Darren? Had the hospital forgotten to contact me?
But even if the hospital had forgotten to call me, that wouldn’t have mattered. I called three to four times every day to check in, just waiting for the precious news that he was home. Even though I knew the damage had already been done and that he was in the care of medical professionals, a part of me knew I wouldn’t feel content until he was under my watch, until I could lay my own eyes on him and know he would be ok. How long would I have to wait for that solace?
Finally, I got the call as I left the shop late on a Saturday night. Darren would be admitted to the hospital the following morning, less than a week before Thanksgiving. I had thought that getting this call would bring relief, but I only felt more nervous. I hadn’t seen Darren in a long time, how would things go between us? Would things be awkward between Darren and I? I knew what Paul had told me about Darren, but I wouldn’t believe it until I saw it for myself. But what if he rejected me?
That night I drove three and a half hours upstate to the town where the military hospital was. I booked a room at a small motel in the area, wanting to get to the hospital first thing in the morning so I could be there to greet Darren. He was a hero, and he deserved a hero’s welcome.
As I lay there in the dingy motel bed, I wondered how I had ever thought that there was even a slim chance of getting some sleep that night. I was far too excited, nervous and anxious for the following day to come. I tried closing my eyes, but my thoughts all converged on Darren and my heart raced, forcing me to get up and walk around the room.
I paced back and forth in the room, the small flat-screen TV flashing some reality show with the sound off. It was almost three in the morning and I was still wide awake. I walked to the window and pulled the curtain to the side, peering out into the parking lot and beyond that the highway with an occasional, solitary car driving through the darkness, its bright lights splashing across the pavement before fading as it conti
nued on into the distance.
By now, I knew the route to the hospital by heart, having checked it on my phone so many times, but I couldn’t help checking it again. Then I walked over to the mini-fridge to see if maybe there was something inside to drink. Maybe a little nightcap would put my mind at ease.
I found one of the plastic cups from the motel bathroom and tore off its cheap, plastic wrapper. I emptied two airplane bottles of Jack Daniels into the little cup, then opened my door and walked down the hall to the ice machine. I dropped three small cubes into the golden-brown liquid and swirled it around before taking a sip. The whiskey was cold, but burned my throat as it went down; it tasted good, reminiscent of summer nights just before college, drinking Jack out on Darren’s parent’s back porch well after midnight.
After a few more sips I could nearly feel the tension drifting out of me. My eyelids started to feel heavy as I yawned, taking one last sip of whiskey before letting my body fall backward into the soothing embrace of the bed. It wasn’t the most comfortable bed in the world, but tonight it would have to do. I closed my eyes and turned out the light on the bedside table. There were only a few more hours to go before I would once again be at Darren’s side, and finally I was able to get some well-deserved sleep.
CHAPTER 11
———
The sharp, jarring noise of the alarm clock woke me up within a couple of hours. It was 7:15 AM and I knew that visiting hours at the military hospital began at 8:30 AM. I had been sleeping surprisingly well, the best rest I’d gotten in over a week, so I hit the snooze button and slept for another fifteen minutes. Then I hit it again. Finally I decided I’d better get up and shower. I didn’t know when exactly Darren would be admitted, but I wanted to be sure that I was there when it happened.
Waiting for Her Soldier Page 2
