Letters from War (12 page)

“What's a shame, Dan?”

It's a shame my son has to serve and maybe die over in a war that you mock every single time I'm around you.

“Those boys need to come back home.”

“They're more than just boys out there,” Rene says to her husband.

It's a miracle for her to get in a sentence between her husband's rants.

“You know what I mean.”

“Is it just today, or do you always have to talk about the war and how much you disdain it?”

Dan moves in his chair, his big body shifting from hanging over one side to the other. He laughs and finishes the last bite of cake.

If he could persuade people he might be a good politician. If he was strong enough in his faith, he could make a good pastor. But Dan is stuck in his little bubble and the Sunday dinner table is his podium and pulpit. We, his family, are forced to hear the same spiel whenever we're gathered together.

“Don't get that way, B.”

It wasn't always like this. After James entered the service, the talk was always positive. But sometime between James going MIA and Dan becoming more vocal, the patriotic vibes had shifted to something else.

“What way am I being?”

“I'm just talking.”

“You're talking about things you don't have the slightest clue about.”

She finds it amazing that she's related to this guy. How can her older brother be dumb and uninformed, like a stereotypical redneck?

“Did something happen?” Rene asks.

“Yeah. A couple of years ago. Remember that? Remember that story?”

“Beth, come on,” Dan says.

“No. You come on. You were there. You have no idea what it's like to answer that door and see that man standing there waiting to deliver the news—news that only gives half the answer. You don't know what it's like and never will because all of your children are accounted for.”

“I'm not talking about James.”

“Then what are you talking about? How can you separate James from the rest of the Afghanistan war?”

“You know your brother,” Rene says, nonplussed by Beth's outburst. “He lives in a boxed-in world. The town could be in flames and he'd still ask what we're having for dinner.”

“The military doesn't even know how to treat their own,” Dan adds. “They took away Burger King and Pizza Hut from them last year. Now, why would they go do something like that?”

“God forbid you take Pizza Hut away,” Rene says
in amusement. “You'd go AWOL if you couldn't have your Pizza Hut.”

“Just because I'm against the war doesn't mean I'm against James.”

“Yes it does,” Beth says without thought. “Yes it does.”

In two years, she's never said or acted quite like this. But everybody has their breaking point.

There is a seemingly endless silence that's interrupted by Emily saying she's leaving.

“Make sure you come home at a decent time,” Beth calls out.

She wonders if Emily heard much of the conversation at the dinner table, then she shares a knowing glance with her brother.

He is silent for the time being.

But there will always be a next time.

Always.

“Don't let him get to you.”

“I know. I just—I shouldn't have overreacted.”

“It sounds like it was about time for someone to say something.”

Beth thinks that maybe Britt is right, but still. Even if his skull is thick, Dan is still her brother and she loves him. Despite wanting to strangle him most of the time.

They're walking through an outdoor mall, with Richie, thankfully, content for now in his stroller. Beth gives him another ten or fifteen minutes before he gets antsy and needs to get out. She keeps telling Britt to take her time in one of the stores, to really shop and not just casually browse. But Britt isn't there just yet.

“Maybe your brother misses James just like the rest of us,” Britt says. “That's just his unique—um—way of showing it.”

“Everything he does is certainly unique. To say the least.”

As they walk down the sidewalk, a beat-up car chugs by and seems to greet them with a gurgle. It makes Beth think of something she hasn't thought of for a while.

She can't help but laugh.

“What?”

“Did James ever tell you about the car that he tried to salvage with his uncle Dan?”

Britt shakes her head.

“James might be a lot of things, but a mechanic he is not. Once during high school he tried to be all manly and help get Dan's old Ford truck working. It was quite the science experiment.”

“James can't fix anything.”

“I know. But he tries, doesn't he? Don't tell him he can't do something. He learned long and hard that
summer that there are talents in life that God doesn't bless you with.”

“But how in the world did he even try to work on it?”

“He found directions online. Which was mistake number one. One of a thousand.” Beth smiles the way she might seeing a friend waving to her in a passing car.

“Is Dan handy?”

“He's good at fixing things. But he's also lazy, and James wanted to do it himself. A bad combo, those two. But you know, they had fun.”

“What happened to the truck?”

“It's still there, in back of Dan's house. Rene is always after him to clean it up.”

“James just left it there?”

“The engine blew up,” Beth says. “I mean,
literally
blew up. Ruined. James came home saying that he decided he wasn't a mechanic. He seemed to have oil on every part of his body. Dan said he'd clean up everything. Which, of course, he never did. But I think they had a lot of fun hanging out together.”

“Maybe he's just waiting, the way we all are.”

Beth looks at Britt and wonders what she means.

“You know—maybe Dan is waiting for James to come home and finish his job.”

The call comes in the middle of the night.

Calls like this are never welcome. Yet they're the quickest to be answered.

The conversation is over in a minute. It takes Beth another few to change clothes and leave.

She doesn't think of telling Emily where she's going. Emily probably didn't even hear the phone call and is still fast asleep. Then again, maybe Emily's not even in her bed. Maybe she stayed late at O'Malley's like most of the servers do after their shifts. That's something Beth doesn't want to deal with now.

First things first.

On the drive, she keeps the radio off and the window shut. The silence helps her focus her mind and pray. She prays during the entire trip. Beth won't even be able to remember later if she prayed out loud or silently. She knows it doesn't matter, not with God.

She gets out of the car and rushes up the sidewalk and into the house. Even though they just saw each other this afternoon, Beth knows a lot can change in a matter of hours.

“Britt? Honey, are you in there?”

The phone call scared her. Britt's tone and her words seemed strange and distant. Nowadays, in this cruel and bitter world, one never knows what might happen next. Beth wasn't going to take a chance. Some people will sit back and let things happen but she spends her days
waiting and watching, so when she
can
do something, she's going to.

“Britt, where are you?”

She goes into the bedroom to find her daughter-in-law lying on the bed, eyes swollen and cheeks puffy, a box of Kleenex beside her, Bailey lounging comfortably next to a pillow.

“What is it? What happened? Is Richie okay?”

“Yes, he's fine,” Britt says. “He's sleeping. Nothing's wrong. You didn't need to come.”

“Then what's wrong with you?”

For a moment, Britt shakes her head as if to say that nothing's wrong. Of course, there are the tears, the tissues, and the tortured look on her face.

“It's just—”

“What, sweetie?”

“He's gone. I know it. I woke up and I felt it. Just like that. I know in my heart that James is gone.”

“Did you hear anything—”

“No. We're never going to hear anything. That's why I know. That's why I'm feeling this way.”

Beth is able to exhale as she slips onto the bed beside Britt. “Why do you suddenly feel this way?”

“Everything is wrong.”

“Talk to me. What happened since this afternoon?”

“I had a lousy night with Richie. He was so unbelievably fussy. And for once I just wanted to let my
husband take care of him. Is that too much to ask? Is that too much to ask God?”

“No.”

Britt blows her nose and then tosses the tissue onto the pile on her bed.

“I shouldn't have watched that stupid movie. That's what did it.”

“What did you watch?”

“It's my own fault. Mine and Tom Hanks's.”

Beth imagines
Saving Private Ryan
or
Band of Brothers.
Maybe the recent series on HBO called
The Pacific
.

“Which movie? What was it?”

“
Sleepless in Seattle.
”

After what Beth was thinking, the title almost makes her chuckle. That's about the last movie Beth would picture. Then again, it makes perfect sense.

“I'm sorry, sweetie.”

“I've seen that movie a dozen times. But tonight, I don't know. Something about it. Something about watching it alone. James hated that movie but deep down he's a romantic. That's why he likes writing. He's able to write things he normally can't say. It's not in a soldier's nature to be flowery and poetic and gushing. Yet that's who James is.”

“You're right,” Beth says.

“Do you know that when he deployed to Afghanistan,
he'd already left a few days before actually leaving? He stripped himself of his emotion and put on that armor that made him tough. He barely said good-bye.”

“It was his way.”

“I know. And that way—his way, the army way—was supposed to keep him alive. You know? So what? So what happened then?”

“We don't know.”

“But I feel like I know. I really do.”

“You watched a movie tonight. That's all. You miss him the way we all do.”

“I never thought it'd be like this.”

Beth rubs her hands and notices how dry they are. She glances at them and they don't even look like her own. They resemble the frail hands of some middle-aged woman who's spent too much time rubbing them, too much time keeping them busy, too much time adding wrinkles to their edges.

“Life doesn't work out like those movies,” she says. “Or more like—the movies don't show it all. They show the sparks, the romance, the pretty pictures. The nice, neat drama that leads to the happy ending. But life isn't always that way. Your story, Britt—your story with James—is a beautiful one. How you stuck together. Your wedding day. How you found out you were pregnant. It's a beautiful story.”

“I just want to know the ending.”

“None of us knows the ending.”

“The ending to
this
story. That's all I ask. So I'll be able to live and maybe create other ones.”

“I know.” Beth sighs. “Sometimes I think I'm the exact opposite, that I don't want to know the ending. I'm afraid to find out because I won't like the outcome.”

“But you want to know.”

“I just want James back. Like you. I don't want that story to be over. Just the chapter.”