He sat on the edge of his cot, sweaty and dusty and shaking a little as the adrenaline finally started to taper off. The company medic, “Doc,” had patched up his shoulder and declared him fit for duty. He held her picture in his trembling hand, wondering if he should call her.
Her eyes opened with a start, surprised to see him laying in her bed. She was immediately angry and disappointed with herself for having one glass of wine too many. She answered the phone.
He asked if he had waked her.
She told him no. She lied.
He apologized for waking her.
She repeated that he hadn’t, lying again. She asked how his day had been, whispering so as not to wake her bedmate.
He told her it went well. He lied. He asked her what she did over the weekend.
She changed the subject. Not wanting to tell him. She asked if he had gone out on another convoy.
He told her that he had.
She asked if all had gone well.
He replied that it had, lying again. Not wanting to worry her about his injury. He asked if she had gone out with her friends.
Again changing the subject, not wanting him to know that she’d been drinking lately, she told him that she had a handsome man in her bed.
“What?” he asked not sure that he had heard her correctly over the international connection.
“I’m sharing my bed with a very handsome young man,” she repeated. “And he’s got your eyes.”
“Well when he wakes up, tell him that he’s the man of the house and that I expect him to take care of his mom,” he countered.
“He’s only 4!” she protested.
“Then tell him that I love him and miss him and that I’m damned jealous of him.”
She said that she loved him and couldn’t wait for him to come home.
He felt his throat tighten and eyes water but managed to tell her that he too loved her and that she had better kick that other man out of his bed before he gets home.
For a brief moment, they were able to escape their fears. They were able to laugh and love and hope for a brief moment.
She asked if he was going out on a convoy tomorrow.
He said that he wasn’t. He lied.
The phone weant dead, the connection was lost.
He went back to his cot and looked at her picture once more.
She reached for the half empty glass of wine after softly kissing her other man.
They are determined to survive.
Sgt Hook out.
Posted by Hook @ 2329 zulu | | Permalink
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