Too Hard A Promise He had never lied to his beloved, but for the first time he had made a serious decision without involving her. Telling her would not be easy, but she must be told. It was not the sort of matter which can be hidden. Much contemplation had gone into the decision. Walks were taken to gather thoughts. Rationalizations were considered. Arguments were made and countered, but all within the privacy of his mind. No other audience for critique was given – no, not even the audience of his beloved. How should one respond when told that his cousin – his childhood friend – had been deployed to the front line of defense with the 82nd airborne? If that were not enough, the call came some time later that his brother had deployed with his communications unit and disappeared on the many hilltops in what would soon become a war zone. Many letters had come from former co-workers stating that they were deploying in the build-up that had now been named “Desert Shield.” Had he been stateside, the decision would have been made for him. He would have expected to have no decision left to him here on this “high threat” assignment. However; the word came down that “individual volunteers” would be considered from his unit. Nobody would be forced to go, but individuals who wanted to volunteer could be deployed to the Persian Gulf. He reached for the knob on his front door, and entered. His wife, as lively and cheerful as always, was busily preparing the evening meal in the tiny kitchen. “Hi, honey,” she beamed as he came in. She turned to face him and proudly displayed a tray of carefully prepared foods and drinks which she held in her hands. “Hello,” he answered soberly. Sensing the distress in his voice, she fixed her eyes intently on him. “What’s up?” she asked concernedly. “I’m … I’m going to the gulf,” he stammered. The cheerfulness in her eyes faded. The smile that held her cheeks up began to fall farther, and farther, until her jaw had fully dropped and her mouth was fully open. First, disbelief showed itself in her face, then contemplation. Her eyes fell, then darted left, and fell again. Contemplation gave way to confusion on her face as she raised her eyes to once again meet his. “How can they deploy you from here? I thought they weren’t going to deploy anyone from here.” “I …” he began, but his voice tapered off as he was still unable to speak the word to her. “You …?” she prompted. “I … volunteered.” Bewilderment returned to her face, but only briefly. Her eyes then began to squint slightly. Her eyebrows drew together wrinkling her forehead between them. Her jaw came up from its dropped position and began to clench. “You volunteered?” she said in disbelief. Her body began to visibly tense. She drew the tray of carefully prepared dishes slightly higher, then violently trust them downward. Food and broken glass scattered across the kitchen floor. “You VOLUNTEERED!!?” she screamed as the last shards of broken plates became still upon the concrete floor. She stomped up to him, every muscle in her body now visibly tense. She was easily six inches shorter than he, but was clearly unintimidated. “How can you volunteer to leave your family in this hole and go off to war half way around the world to fight a battle they didn’t even ask you to fight!?” she screamed. “They did ask us,” he responded, obviously on the defensive now. “Who asked you!?” she demanded. “You’re already in a high threat area!” “Honey, you know who all is there. I trained for this just like they did. I have to do my part to make sure they come home.” “You have to take care of your family here!” she shrieked. “What about your daughters!? What about me!?” “I have good skills - important skills.” “As a father!! How can you volunteer like that without even discussing it with me!?” “I knew you wouldn’t think about it. You would never agree…” “So how can you leave us like that!? Especially when you know we won’t agree!?” “I’m not leaving you. This is a life and death matter, and I have a part that I am supposed to play.” “You have a family here!! You’re responsible for us first!!” * * * * * He sat in the front room alone. The fight had continued for hours, and had left him hoarse and weary. She had gone to bed, but considering the mood, he had sat up until well after midnight. Now, the calm had set in, and the weariness was taking its toll. He rose, and opened the door to their bedroom. He slipped inside quietly, and listened. The rhythm of breathing told him she was still awake. He slipped softly beside the bed, and placed his hand on her shoulder. Violently, she jerked away and moved to the far side of the bed to give him room enough to lie down without touching her. He slipped out of his clothes and into bed careful to grant her unspoken request to be left alone within her space. Silence ruled the moment, but he longed to speak to her once more, maybe with one more request peace could come back between them. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsly. “I probably should have talked to you first. I know I can’t convince you, but I hope at least you won’t stay mad at me.” Silence was the only answer. He lay in the dark. Multiplying words would soothe nothing. He contemplated what lay ahead. The fourth largest army in the world stood ready to confront him. Would they attack before the buildup was complete? If they really wanted to do damage they would. Could their missiles reach where he was going? Were they as determined as the media said they were? How good was their air force? Was his side really as good as his commanders told him? How long would he be there? Would the enemy back down before the war actually broke out? Would he ever come back? She lifted the covers and rolled beneath them. His thoughts returned to her. She rolled onto her side, slid next to him, draped her leg over him and lifted her head. On cue, he slid his arm beneath her head. She caressed his shoulder with her cheek, then nodded enough to wipe the tear from the side of her face onto his arm. Replacing her head on his shoulder, she squeezed herself to him tightly. “I’m not mad at you,” she said softly. “I just don’t want you to go. I don’t want to believe that there is any good reason for you to leave us here, and go over there. But; I knew this day might come when I married a military man.” He ran his fingers gently through her hair as she continued. “Nobody made you join, and nobody made me marry you. We both did that because it’s what we wanted, and what we believed was right. I know that. I don’t want you to leave here remembering that we had a fight last thing. I'm sorry for that. I want you to remember me at my best. Every time you think of me, I want you to want to come home to me and I want you to think about the affection and love I have for you. I got mad because I just didn’t want it to be you that has to go. I didn’t want to believe there might be a good reason for you to leave.” The hand which had been stroking her hair began to caress her face. Finding a tear streaming there, it changed its motion enough to dry this beloved cheek. With the hand with which she had been embracing him she captured his caressing hand next to her cheek, and continued, “If I don’t believe it’s necessary for you to go, then I have to believe that you’re going for selfish reasons. But when I think about us, I never remember you thinking about yourself, so I can’t believe that. I know who’s there, and I know you believe you can help make sure they come home – in fact I think that just as much as you do. I just want to be sure you come home.” “I plan to come home,” he said hopefully. “But I don’t have any idea how long it’s going to take, or what it’s going to be like for us there.” She snuggled herself to him again. “A plan is not good enough," she said. "I know you can’t lie to me. You just don’t have it in you. So, before you leave, you have to promise me you’ll come back ok.” He thought for a moment. It was an impossible promise to make. He believed he would come back, but nothing certain lay ahead. Nobody could know for sure whether there would be a war, and if it came, it could last days, or it could last years. It could be a route, or it could be a bloodbath on both sides. Nobody knew. She was right, he could not lie to her, and knowing this, he could not make such a promise. She lifted the hand which held his captive against her cheek. “Promise me you’ll come back ok,” she said. He knew that somewhere in the darkness above him a little finger was extended awaiting his response, but how could he make such a promise? “I need to know,” she said, her cracking voice betraying the fact that she was close to crying again. “Promise me you’ll come back ok. I’ll be praying for you every day, but you need to promise me you’ll be back.” He lifted his hand from her cheek and found her hand above them just as he expected. Searching, he found her little finger and manipulated his little finger around it until they were appropriately linked together. “I promise,” he said. "I'll be back." He had never lied to his beloved before. He sincerely hoped this would not be the first time.
Copyright © 2004 Steven L Howard |