Only One Volunteered
by Sheryl Rieling
Sara O'Neill sat at a table in the sunny open-air mall, sipping her coffee as she enjoyed the day. There was a small play land next to the coffee shop and the sounds of delight that emerged from it had drawn her like a magnet. The small voices eclipsed all other sounds as busy shoppers bustled from store to store.
A young couple emerged from the crowd, pushing a stroller filled to overflowing with a precocious toddler who squealed and clapped in innocent abandon. His happy gurgles were met with strained smiles from the couple as they paused at the curb.
Sara couldn't help but notice them. Their small family reminded her so much of the not so distant past, when she and Jack would linger in malls while they allowed Charlie to play on the small rides. It didn't help that the young father was wearing an Air Force uniform, his shoulders squared and a mile across beneath the blue class A jacket. She could still remember smoothing the imaginary creases, an excuse really, to place her hand on those strong shoulders, to hold onto her security, her external support system for as long as she could.
Then, inevitably, they would kiss goodbye and Jack would leave them for whatever secret places the government sent men they considered expendable. He was always the good soldier, prepared to fight and die if necessary for a country, which couldn't begin to understand the sacrifice. Her sacrifice. Charlie's sacrifice. She would stand on the sidewalk and watch the retreating car, her heart in her throat when the taillights glowed brightly only to realize that he had braked for a stop sign. The disappointment that followed was always a tangible thing, like someone was pressing her chest, preventing the next inhalation.
She shook her head to clear away the unpleasant memories. The young couple was still standing at the curb. There were other servicemen and their families milling about, holding hands, kissing goodbye. There were more women in uniform than there used to be, children clinging to their father's large hands as they waited for their chance to talk to mommy. As the bus pulled up, the murmuring in the small group halted for a few moments. Her favorite couple began kissing passionately, hands grasping at each other in desperation.
By unspoken agreement, officers boarded first. The enlisted ranks hung back with their loved ones for one last chance to hold each other. One last meeting of lips. One more cuddle. One brief nuzzle with mommy to memorize her scent. Then they were gone in a roar of the bus engine as it pulled away, unmindful of the heartbroken crowd on the sidewalk. Some of the newer spouses followed the bus for a few feet, as if they were unwilling to break contact. Sara felt their loss particularly hard. The young woman and her son had followed for at least twenty feet and remained standing in the street, a forlorn picture, the Norman Rockwell scene never captured.
Sara lowered her eyes to her mug and allowed them some privacy. The young airman had been wearing a Special Forces badge. She hoped the young mother understood the painful realities with all of the implications. Otherwise the marriage would end up being another armed services statistic. The wife of a soldier required certain coping skills.
Once, a long time ago, another officer's wife had sat her down and given her the truth. Sara hoped this woman was as fortunate to have such a good friend she could turn to. When you were alone and far from family, the friendships you established took on an entirely different meaning than the acquaintances of childhood. They were deeper, truer, stronger and as necessary as breathing, the lifeline of life on base and in the military, the actual support beams in the superstructure that was the armed services. She jumped as hot coffee splashed her bare legs.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!"
Sara looked up to find herself face to face with the young woman she had been empathizing with for the last half hour. Up close, the tears that had only been suspected were easily definable in the over-bright ebony eyes.
"It's okay. It didn't burn me." She attempted to put the young woman at ease.
"I can't believe I was so clumsy." The young woman tried to wipe the coffee from Sara's hem. "It's just so difficult to carry the cup and push Daniel at the same time. I just wanted a cup of coffee and
" her voice trailed off as two glistening tears finally spilled.
Sara reached over and stilled her hand. "It's really okay. Why don't you sit down for a moment and I'll get you another cup of coffee?" She smiled kindly at the indecision on the beautiful mahogany face. "Just relax, I'll be right back."
When she returned, the young woman had recovered somewhat and was attempting to entertain her son.
"So this is Daniel?" Sara placed the coffee on the table in front of her guest. "How old is he?"
"He just turned six months old."
"Really? He's so
."
"Big?" The girl laughed, a small tinkling sound. "I know, he's going to be a big boy just like his daddy. Derrick says
" The smile disappeared. "Derrick is his daddy. He's in the Air Force. He just left for an exercise, I think. I never know."
Sara covered her hand. "I know, I've been there. By the way, my name is Sara O'Neill. My ex-husband was an officer in the Air Force. Special Forces just like Derrick." At the surprised gasp, Sara tried to put her at ease. "I saw you saying goodbye. The badge is rather distinctive."
The young woman absently bent over and wiped some drool from the corner of Daniel's small mouth. "I'm Janelle Mitchell." She took Sara's hand in an unsteady grip. "I'm not usually like this, it's just that this is the first time since Daniel was born, he's been mobilized that he couldn't tell me when he's coming back. It's those damn phone calls, you know?"
Sara shook her head sympathetically while her mind filled in the necessary images, substituting herself and Jack for Derrick and Janelle. The scene had been played many times in her marriage. Jack receiving the prerequisite phone call and retrieving the pre-packed bag in the hall closet. The last time had been the worst. Charlie had been gone less than three months and he had been reactivated. The men who arrived to notify him must have known he was on the edge. They didn't care. Her husband was simply another cog in whatever policy the U.S. government was promoting. An expendable tool at that. The argument that resulted was a horrific commentary on the wasteland that had become their union.
"So you're just going to pack up and go, just like that?" Sara took another drag on her cigarette, trying to mask the shaking of her hands. "Don't you care about anything anymore?"
"I don't have any choice. You know that. Besides, what's here for me anymore?"
'I'M HERE YOU STUPID SHIT!' she wanted to yell. Instead she turned back to the sink. "You're in no shape to command. You know that, Jack
He ran a hand through his too long hair, "They know it too. Apparently it doesn't seem to matter."
She sensed him behind her, towering over her as she leaned over the sink. She stubbed out her cigarette and placed both hands over the porcelain, silently willing him to enfold her in his strong arms, needing his strength, his comfort. She felt a callused hand touch her neck briefly and then he was gone. Another ghost to haunt the house. Her house. Her now empty house.
"Sometimes I just wish he could tell me something." Janelle took a sip of her coffee. "It's like I'm not allowed to complain or something. How does the Air Force think I feel about them yanking my husband at the drop of a hat?"
"I don't think the Air Force ponders what we go through. In fact, military bravado is expected as part and parcel with marrying a soldier."
"My sister, Dionne, keeps telling me to leave Derrick but how am I supposed to do that? I mean, Daniel needs his daddy, right?" She drew a shaky breath. "Then again, what do I tell him when his daddy doesn't come home? Wouldn't it be easier on him if I just left before I get the damned telegram?" As if she just realized whom she was speaking to, Janelle looked up, shocked. "I'm so sorry! I don't mean to dump all over you. You just seem so nice and I feel so crappy."
Sara understood perfectly. "It's okay, Janelle. I've been where you are right now. It's not easy."
"But you left, right?"
"Not exactly. There were other factors involved. With Jack, and me things were
" she fumbled for the correct word, "complicated."
"Like what?"
"We had a son. He died and there didn't seem much point to staying together." The words had a harsh ring and Sara lowered her eyes to the toddler. "Children make all the difference in the world."
"I'm so sorry."
Sara felt her hand squeezed. She gratefully returned the reassurance, drawing strength from the other woman. "It's alright. I don't know that we would have survived even if Charlie hadn't
" Her voice trailed off, the words too painful to verbalize.
For a few moments, the two of them sat there, holding hands. Both of them lost in their own thoughts. Sara drifted back to those awful moments after Jack had left the house.
She slid down to the floor and pulled her knees up against her chest defensively. How many times was she supposed to be the good little wife? How long was she going to be the ghost, tiptoeing around the house when Jack came home from a mission? When he was so raw and used up that he couldn't see or acknowledge her or the comfort she offered?
Something inside her snapped. She climbed to her feet and looked out of the window with new eyes. She felt lighter, as if the decision had broken a band that encased her heart and weighted it down. The new resolve replaced the grief, which had been her constant companion for the last three months.
Sara packed her bags and took the phone in her hand. The number she needed was speed dial number two. She raised the receiver to her ear and waited.
"Dad? Can I come home?"
Sara pushed the memories away, unwilling to fall into the well of despair they were leading her to. "Janelle, do you have any friends nearby? Anyone you can talk to?"
She shook her head. "No. We were just reassed from Hurlburt. I was hoping this would be a quieter command. He was always gone when we were in Florida."
Sara nodded. "Every base has a specialty. Look, Janelle, you need to plug into the support system on base. There are other men and women like you. They help each other out as much as possible. Things like babysitting and commiserating, but I should warn you. No one will tolerate complaining for long. It could hurt Derrick's career if you're perceived as a liability. Military wives are supposed to be silent and strong."
"That sucks."
"Yes," Sara agreed wholeheartedly. "You're supposed to be a rock that Derrick can hold to when he comes home. A sounding board if necessary and above all supportive. If you become a problem, you become the baggage holding back his advancement and he'll be told so. Oh, they won't come right out and say so, but he'll get the message loud and clear." She saw the frightened look in Janelle's eyes and smiled to soften the hard facts. "They only recruited Derrick but they get you and Daniel as part of the bargain. It's a package deal. I had a friend, Nancy Cromwell, her husband Frank served with Jack. She used to say that there were two kinds of soldiers, the one who fought and the one who stayed behind and waited. Only one of them volunteered."
Again, Sara's mind began to drift.
A terrible February morning when she received notification that Jack was dead.
Charlie was spitting his strained bananas all over the place and Sara had a cloth diaper in her hand, trying to catch the projectile fruit when the knock sounded at her door.
Giving up the fight, she stood and checked to make sure Charlie was secure in the high chair. Satisfied, she opened the door to see Nancy Cromwell looking as if her world was going to collapse.
"Oh my God. Is it Frank?"
"Sara
"
"Jack? It's Jack?"
"Sara, it's not official yet, but Frank said
he said that Jack was hit. He's gone. "
"No! It's not true! Get away from me!" She twisted away from her friend and ran across the kitchen to Charlie. She held him to her chest, praying as hard as she ever had. "Not Jack. Please God, not Jack."
Sara knew she was crying but she couldn't help it. The silent tears spilled over her cheeks and lingered at her jaw before dropping to the plastic table. Not bothering to wipe them away, she stared directly at Janelle. "I've had my share of waiting. More than anyone should have to. It's hard. Very hard. Either you have what it takes or you don't."
Janelle pressed a paper napkin into her hands. "I think I understand."
Sara shook her head and dried her eyes. "That puts you one up on me. I never understood and I never will. I did it. I waited. I held him when it was bad and I shut up and disappeared when he needed me to, but I never admitted defeat until after Charlie died. That was when I decided I was done being a willing participant and left."
"Do you regret leaving?"
"Sometimes." Sara conceded softly. "But I never stop worrying. Even now when we're not together. Maybe I should have stayed."
"Sara?"
She looked up into warm brown eyes. "Jack? What are you doing here?"
"Daniel and I were doing some shopping. We were supposed to meet up at this coffee shop. Are you all right?"
Sara wiped her eyes and attempted to rub some color back into her cheeks. "Jack, this is Janelle Mitchell." She said, ignoring his question. "Janelle, this is Jack."
"Nice to meet you."
Sara noted that Jack didn't bother to look at the woman. 'Same old Jack.'
"Well I have to be going. Thanks for the company, Sara. I really appreciate it."
Sara stood and hugged Janelle. "It was nothing." She pressed a card into her hand. "Call me anytime. We'll talk."
The woman studied it for a moment, a slight smile on her face. "I may take you up on that."
"Please do."
Sara watched Janelle push baby Daniel through the crowd, soon disappearing from view. When she turned back to Jack, she almost laughed. He was rocking on the balls of his feet, practically jumping up and down with impatience.
"What was that all about?"
She gathered the cups from the table and turned to place them in the trash receptacle. "None of your business, Jack." When she turned around, she almost stepped on his feet. He had followed her to the garbage pail. "Jack, I'm all right. She was lonely and we talked for a bit. Now if you will excuse me, Dad expects me back."
"Sara." He tenderly stroked her cheek with a callused hand. "I'm here if you need me."
She closed her eyes and savored his touch for a forbidden moment. "I know, Jack. I'm just very late." She moved away and he didn't stop her. As she was about to slip into the steady stream of shoppers she turned around. "Jack? It was nice to see you again. You look great."
"You too."
She smiled sadly and made her escape. Her volunteering days were over.
End