The Eternal Engagement (4 page)

CHAPTER 6

Lincoln

 

F
rom Saudi Arabia to Afghanistan in less than ninety days, 9 / 11 changed his life overnight.

“Get down! Hit the ground!” Lincoln shouted.

The enemy troop charged toward them. Bullets flew over his head.

Crawling on his elbows and belly, Lincoln fired back with expert precision. One down. Two down. Three down. Four. Like a pack of wolves with the determination to devour its prey, the more enemies Lincoln and Randy killed, the more the madness multiplied. The opposition relentlessly charged at them. Combat was no life for a twenty-year-old. He didn't know what to expect when he joined the military, but shooting every day to kill the enemy or risk dying wasn't it.

“Ahhh!!!! I've been hit!”

He wanted to cry out for his mother, but that would make him the next target and probably not be worth the effort. Would his mother ever hear his cry? Did it matter?

He was tired of seeing and smelling death. Like an oxygen mask permanently strapped over his nose and mouth, the stench of corroded and burning flesh was lodged in his nostrils. The scent of the fresh air at Grist State Park, where he used to hang out with Katherine, was a memory exhaled over a year ago.

He was man enough to kill but wasn't man enough to care if he had a kid.
God bless America,
he thought, firing another round.

Lincoln looked to his left. Another one of his friends was injured. Blood spilled from her head; her body went limp. She was a wife and mother of a two-year-old boy. All she ever prayed for was to hold her husband and her son in her arms again. She was his age. Lincoln often wondered if he too had a baby living in America. If so, was it a girl? A boy? A daughter would make him more compassionate. A son would force him to be a man.

He pulled out a grenade, pulled the plug, then hurled it as far as he could. Fifty feet away . . .
boom!
He prayed he'd taken out enough enemies for them to cease firing.

Lincoln crawled to her, pulled her body into their hideout. “Do not die on me,” he told her, then shouted, “Hurry! I need help! She's still alive. We've got to get her to the hospital.”

The enemy retreated, but his work wasn't done. He ripped his sleeve, wrapped the material around her head to stop the bleeding. He never wanted to see another bleeding heart or zip another body bag. The closest military hospital was twenty miles away. They'd hike the distance, praying not to get shot at again before arriving at the infirmary. Then they'd hike back, for what? To fight another day? Or wait for an American plane or helicopter to fly over their heads, drop their food, water, and mail, then fly away or risk getting shot down from the sky.

The words his football coach shouted at him, “Don't you set down on the steps 'cause you finds it's kinder hard,” when they were down by six in the championship game, were those of Langston Hughes. Coach's encouragement led them to the big W. War was a bigger W. The battlefield was no playground. Kill or be killed. The difference between sports and war was, at least in the game, he knew what he was fighting for.

The stretcher wasn't nearly as heavy as carrying the guilt of having taken so many lives. All in the name of Operation Enduring Freedom?
I'm actually over here sacrificing my life every day for selfish-ass Americans who don't give a damn about me. My parents included.

They trampled through the desert. Lincoln thought about his history teacher, recalled how she'd taught him about the Selma to Montgomery march. How the movement that Dr. King led from Selma over the Edmund Pettus Bridge into Montgomery ended with over twenty-five thousand marchers standing strong. In the end, their 1965 mission for coloreds to have voting rights was accomplished.

What was Lincoln fighting for again? Wasn't like he didn't remember. He was clueless. If he knew for certain, he might feel better about living 24-7 with an M16 by one side and a handgun by his other. Was his commitment in the name of, or in vain of, the continued freedom for his country?

Who in America felt that their safety was threatened? Americans didn't need to be afraid of foreign countries invading their space. Their greatest threat was being killed by another American. Drive-bys. Driving while texting. Driving under the influence. Right place, wrong time. At least that's the way he felt when he lived on the South Side of Chicago.

Pow!
Lincoln released his grip on the stretcher, aimed his weapon, hit the ground, and started shooting.

“Dude, get your ass up! You can't keep doing this shit. You keep this up, hearing sounds in your head, and I'm going to have to tell Major to send your ass home. You're going to get us killed. Save those football workout skills for a pickup game. Now pick up the damn stretcher, youngster, and get your shit together!”

Lincoln protested, “I'm not a quitter. I'm not going anywhere until my assignment is over.” If he were dishonorably discharged and sent to the States, where would he go? Definitely not to his grandfather's house.

“That's right. As long as we're at war, I can keep your ass as long as I want. You're not leaving until I say so,” his captain said.

Signing up to serve shouldn't have been the same as signing away his right to live, but it was. If he made it out of Afghanistan alive, he'd never tell a soul what really happened to them.

CHAPTER 7

Mona

 

M
ilitary life must've agreed with William Lincoln. Mona hadn't heard from him since he'd slipped the silver band on her left ring finger, then shared her first orgasm.

She knelt beside her bed, put her hands together, then said, “Lord, please keep Lincoln safe. I pray he hasn't been killed. Keep him out of harm's way. If he's deployed, bring him home soon.”

In the beginning her prayers were heartfelt; now her words were like the chorus in a song. She could recite them from memory, repeat them without forethought or afterthought.

Did Lincoln know his grandparents missed him dearly? Did he care? When she ran into them at the local grocery store, all they talked about was how proud they were of Lincoln and how they wished he'd call or write. No one had showed up at their front door with a folded American flag, so they presumed Lincoln was alive. With his new family in Selma, Mona knew he had a reason to return to Alabama, but word around town was that Katherine hadn't heard from him either.

For the first time, the words to her prayer had changed. Mona didn't pray for God to bring Lincoln home to her. She removed the silver band, placed it in her jewelry box.

“Enough,” she whispered. Four years still not knowing if Lincoln was dead or alive was too long.

She was in her prime and ready to have a real relationship. Maybe she was ready for marriage. She realized she was a planner, not a dreamer. But having kids was not part of her plans.

“Mona Lisa,” her mother called out, “Steven is here to pick you up.”

Good ole Steven Cunningham from second grade had never given up hope on being hers again. She hadn't dated him since graduation, but his determination to reunite grew after their whirlwind trip to New York. She wasn't interested in having sex with him, cuddling with him, or kissing him in the Big Apple, but she appreciated the unforgettable all-expense-paid vacation. Thanks to Steven she'd experienced Los Angeles, New Orleans, and Lincoln's hometown of Chicago.

With Lincoln out of her life, Mona reverted to familiarity. In a way, she was dating Steven. The guys in college were fun, some exciting, but none replaced Lincoln. All of her lovers had moved on with their lives. Time had come for her to do the same.

She never understood why Steven had opted not to go to college. He'd said higher education wasn't for him. He liked roaming the streets. Said, “The streets are an extension of who I really am.” Whatever that meant. Said he'd done some things he wasn't proud of. But who hadn't.

Although she didn't know where his money came from, Steven was sort of a cash blanket and he kept her financially comfortable. Maybe he was a catalyst to get her back to the man she should marry.

“I'm coming, Mama!” she yelled from her bedroom.

There was no place like her home. Her mom had finally given up on trying to dictate who Mona dated, and Mona had decided to stop inviting unfamiliar male company to their house without her mother's prior permission. She would've asked her dad, but he was never home long enough. Word around town was her dad had a second family in Mobile. But he still paid all the bills and her mom never questioned him.

“Hey, you,” Mona said with a smile. When Steven leaned in to kiss her, she gave him a hug, then nodded toward her mom.

“I've got a surprise for you,” Steven said.

Mona's mother commented, “Just make sure your surprise doesn't entail Mona taking off her shoes.”

“Mama, I haven't taken off my shoes in—” Mona paused. Her mother still believed she was a virgin. Her father didn't seem to care what she did as long as she didn't get pregnant. Mona's sexual relations were nobody's business but her own. Mona loved living her life one thrill after another, and she was way overdue to take off her shoes.

“Steven, have her back by midnight.”

“Yes, Mrs. Ellington.”

“Mama, I'm twenty-two and—”

Her mother interrupted, “And still living under my roof. I'm not taking care of you and no baby. So don't have any until you can take care of yourself and your child.” Her mother looked at Steven, then continued, “Any man that wants to keep you all night has got to make you his wife first. Then he can take off your shoes as much as he'd like.”

What?
“It's not like I don't have a part-time job, Mama. And a license to carry a gun.” She'd secured a good job at the police department as a forensic specialist. Mona loved her job. “Besides, we've been knowing Steven since I was seven.”

Mona made enough money to rent a small house in Selma, but she enjoyed the comfort of having someone to come home to after work. And her mom wouldn't admit it, but Mona knew she liked having her there at night.

“Don't make me no never-mind how long we been knowing him. He's a man now. Midnight, Steven,” Mama said, then walked away.

Steven was available during the day but wouldn't tell her what he did most nights and weekends. Being the Christian man his parents reared him to be, all Mona cared about was that Steven was the perfect gentleman.

CHAPTER 8

Steven

 

“W
hen you gon' let me hit it, Mona?” Steven asked.

“I was wondering when you were going to make a go for it,” she said. “We haven't had sex since high school.”

“Well, it's not because
I
didn't want to.”

He'd tried to make love to her in New York, but she refused him. Turned her back each night, hugged her pillow tight. He'd tried again in Los Angeles and Chicago, and she turned him down both times. Enjoying her company was more exciting than forcing himself on her. Mona was his best friend.

She wasn't easy like some of the girls in Selma. Mona always knew what she wanted, had to have things her way. That was okay with him because there was nothing that she wanted that he couldn't give her. So far. Mona was the one woman he was patient with. He knew one day she'd be Mona Lisa Cunningham.

He even told his mom and dad that he was going to ask for Mona's hand in marriage. They gave him their blessings. Mona's mother would be the hardest to convince. But seeing how Mona wanted to get from under her mother's rules, sweeping Mona into his arms might be easier than he'd thought.

“Women around this town are nice, but you know I've been crazy about you since second grade. And even when we dated in high school, I could tell you were still in love with Lincoln. You haven't mentioned him in years. Hope you've gotten him out of your system, because I've got plans for you.”

All the girls at Selma High were attracted to Lincoln. He'd handpicked two. Mona and Katherine Clinton. The same two Steven had chosen. But Steven was no second-time loser standing downfield waiting for Lincoln to throw him the ball so he could try to score. Mona was no easy win.

Steven had met her first and known her longer than Lincoln. And if Mister Loverboy Lincoln was so supposedly well endowed, why was Mona still a virgin in the eleventh grade? Steven was happy when Mona had told him, “I saved myself for you.”

Mona bounced in her seat. “Let's do it right now. Go in there,” she said, pointing toward Grist State Park.

He frowned. This wasn't what he'd had in mind. Actually, after holding out for so long he hadn't imagined her immediately agreeing to have sex with him.

“No, not now. We're on our way to breakfast. We can go back to my house afterward. Relax. No pressure,” he said, admiring her cocoa complexion.

Fumbling to unbuckle his belt while he drove, she said, “Breakfast isn't going anywhere,” then slid his black leather belt from his waist. She tried unbuttoning his jeans.

“Stop. You can't be serious. A lot of people are in the park.”

“I'll show you where to go. You'll see.”

As Mona navigated their destination, his dick pressed hard against his jeans. He drove into the state park, paid the entrance fee, followed her directions to a secluded area, then turned off his engine.

Mona slid her panties from underneath her sundress, placed them over his face, then asked, “So tell me what your job is.”

Should've figured there was something she wanted or wanted to know,
he thought, sniffing her sweet underwear. “I can show you better than I can tell you. You can go with me tomorrow,” he said, lowering his zipper.

“You really gon' take me with you?” she asked, sliding between his front seats onto the backseat of his big, black Chevy SUV. “Well, what are you waiting for?” She removed her dress, hung it on the handle above the window like a curtain.

He hesitated, climbed in the back after her. “Um, I don't have any protection.”

He was eager to hit it, but he wasn't trying to get Mona pregnant the way Lincoln had done Katherine. But Katherine had faired well. He'd heard that she was looking for an anchor position doing the morning news. If she got the job, he'd definitely tune in. He always thought Katherine was prettier than Mona, but he wasn't pursuing another woman who was attached to William Lincoln. If Katherine hadn't had Lincoln's baby, she might be on the backseat of his SUV. Nah, Katherine was too classy for that.

“Well, you're going to have to go down there and lick it, Steven. Next time you ask to hit it, make sure you're prepared to do just that,” Mona said, spreading her legs. “You got to hunt for the pearl.”

The what?
This wasn't a game. His dick was hard and he was excited about sticking it inside of Mona for the first time in four years.

“I ain't hunting for nothing. I'll wait 'til we get to my house. I've got condoms at home,” he said. “I'll take you with me tomorrow. But I have to warn you, it can be dangerous, and you have to promise never to tell my parents what I do for a living.”

“Dangerous? Oh, yes, that's got me all wet. I promise I won't tell them.” Mona shoved his head toward her vagina. “Now go on and get it, Steven. You ain't gonna get full staring at it.”

He'd never tasted a girl's private before. “You gon' do me next?”

“If you eat me and make me cum, I'll spit shine your trophy real good.”

Damn!
That was all he needed to hear. Steven pushed Mona's knees to her shoulders, placed her buttery smooth ass in his palms, and didn't stop licking until Mona screamed “Steven” repeatedly.

Wiping his mouth he noticed the windows were foggy. He couldn't see out.

“Steven, that was incredible. Do that again. This time suck it.”

He stretched his neck side to side. He'd already been down there a long time. Ten minutes at least. Now he had to suck it. For how long?

Steven exhaled. “Let's do this the right way. You know I've been in love with you since the second grade, and I've given this some thought for years. Mona, will you marry me?”

“Yes, as soon as we're done, we can go straight to the courthouse. That way I won't change my mind,” she said, spreading her thighs.

“We're done?”

“Yes,” she said, pushing his head back down. “Me first.”