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by Ben Weise
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For her open-minded friendliness, her intellect and athleticism the senior class at Excelsior Academy had voted Dawn “Best All Around” although at home she was still “Daddy’s girl”. At the club, however, they put their drinks down when they saw her mount the diving board.
“Yes siree! A real looker, that gal. Good family too. Proud stock. She’ll go places. You just watch her.”
As captain of the track team, she had set state records in the 400 and 800 meters and could have attended several elite universities on scholarship. Instead, she surprised everyone by enlisting in the Army. Wanted to do her part, she said, before continuing her education.
Caused a hell of a row on the home front. Her mother was strung tighter than a racquet. Ran around with a glass in her hand as if it were grown there. Finally asked the father to intercede. Unaccustomed to the role, he meekly deferred to his daughter.
“I didn’t raise you to become a goddamn infantrist in a country that’s not even on the map,” railed her mother. “Beautiful girl like you. You could have anything you wanted don’t you know that? And you want to throw it away.”
“I’m not throwing it away.”
“The hell you’re not.”
“Mildred! The girl wants to serve her country.”
“Oh shut up, Hank!” she barked flinging single barrel bourbon across the room onto a tarmac-sized hand-knotted rug. “I suppose it hasn’t occurred to you that she could get killed. Or worse.”
In Afghanistan Dawn distinguished herself by dragging a wounded comrade to safety under enemy fire. For her action, she was awarded the Bronze Star. Two weeks later, on the way to a mission, the Humvee she was in exploded. Eight months she would spend recovering from her physical injuries. Eight months of doubts, demons, fear and unrelenting pain. And home. Always in her head. Every mail call. Every package. Like a town crier: who got hitched…got pregnant… won the lottery…joined up…made it back.
It was the nights though. Wide-eyed. Heart racing. Walls sweating. Nightmares behind every corner of the moon. Like this…
***
She was headed home with an honorable discharge and two rows of medals decorating her chest. Immediately upon landing she phoned her parents. With the phone to her ear, she scanned the surroundings. The same suspended sculpture of three great white-winged birds in flight; the blue and gold-speckled floor like an inverted sky; the restaurants and shops. Starbucks. Her last latte macchiato. Victoria’s Secret, where she considered buying a small bottle of something for over there to remind her that she was a woman before she trashed the idea. Nothing had changed. Outside too. The Sans Fin River. Muddy and monotone. And on the far side, the verdant hills in the distance of winding roads and villas. Where she grew up. But more to her heart, the row houses and duplexes up close of working families gathered round dining tables. Heads bowed. Hands joined in prayer. “…for these blessings, dear Lord, we thank You…” Yes. And kicking sand and running and dancing. And walking down the aisle with the man of your dreams, your best friend since Junior High, standing by the altar. “Did I ever tell you you’ve got the greatest pair of legs God ever put on a woman’s body?” That face, those words not so long ago. Only a million years.
She had dropped her phone. Her hands, they were trembling. If she could pick it up before anyone would notice. She’d been sitting so long, felt like her knees had locked.
The Ladies Restroom was across the way. Empty. Thank God. And the wide door to the large booth in the corner, open. She was never comfortable with people too close on either side. Within hearing range. What she needed was time to gather herself before calling again. Couldn’t let them know before she had it worked out in her head. Or sure as hell her mother would smell it. Nothing got past her. Then, again, what difference did it make? She’d have to know sooner or later. Still…
When she came out of the restroom the waiting area was squirming. People everywhere sitting, standing, milling around. Also the restaurants along the concourse filled to capacity. And on Thanksgiving Day. Who would have thought?
She called and let it ring. Another minute and she called the land line.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” blared the unsteady voice at the other end.
“Yeah. Happy Thanksgiving. Could I speak to my father?”
“Whassat?”
“I said… Could I speak to my father? This is Dawn. Dawn Merriweather.”
“Who?”
“Dawn Mer-ri-wea-ther.”
“Jussa minute,” with a clunk of the receiver.
Raucous laughter in the background. Of course. A party. What else? Cars bumper-to-bumper half a mile long. Kith and kin pressing flesh. Fuck-me looks over champagne. Gossip sugared with arsenic. Oh yeah. Lots of fun. Like a picnic at a hanging.
“Hello?”
“Mother? It’s Dawn.”
“Dawn? Good god! Hold on.”
Fifteen seconds. Background noise level lessening. Then silence.
“Why are you calling? Is something wrong?”
“No, Mother. Nothing’s wrong. I’m at the airport.”
“At the airport! What are you doing at the airport?”
“I just landed.”
“You mean here?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you might’ve had the decency to let us know.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“That’s the understatement of the year.”
“So, Mother, you think you might be able to pick me up?”
Pause. The flick of a cigarette lighter.
“You want us to pick you up? Now?”
“If it’s not too inconvenient.”
Coughing.
“I suppose I’ll have to send somebody to get you.”
“That’d be nice.”
“Mmm.”
“And Mother? I’d like to bring a friend. A buddy from overseas.”
“You mean to stay at the house?”
“It’d just be for a couple of days.”
“What’s the matter? Doesn’t he have a place to go to?”
“You’d be doing me a favor.”
“Oh, alright!” severely.
“Great. Just one more thing.”
“Here it comes. I knew it.”
“He’ll be in a wheelchair.”
Sudden violent coughing.
“He’s lost both his legs.”
“You’ve got gall, you know that? Somebody wheeling around our house crashing into things? No, I don’t think so. Besides, we’ve got the Monroes staying with us. They’ll be here until the end of…”
The words landed in her lap and kept pouring out until the cushion of her seat was wet like her crotch and her angry hands gripped the push rings of her chair wheeling her forward faster and faster into the gawking crowd that blocked her exit and stifled her screams: “You could get killed! Or worse!”
***
Other than the shape and the color and texture of things, it was always the same nightmare that had her wildly entangled in sweat-soaked sheets from which the nurses would free her and bring her back. That is until the next time. And again after that. The same plane. The same honorable discharge and two rows of medals. And always the same two missing legs.
Eventually, she was able to reconcile herself to her new status. She had traded in roughly sixteen pounds of flesh and bone for a pair of titanium appendages – courtesy of the US government – that could be fitted with shoes and, once mastered, would serve her as well and as long if not better and longer than her congenital issue. That, at least according to her doctors and therapists. But it wasn’t until Jenny, her favorite nurse, left a book on her pillow that opened her eyes to a whole new life of unimagined possibilities: Blade Runner by Oscar Pistorius. Like her, a double amputee below the knees, he had set world records in the 100 and 200 meter races at various national and world finals and was presently vying to compete in the 2008 Summer Olympic Games. She inhaled the book and, thereafter, would lie awake nights visualizing “the fastest man on no legs” and ask herself why not?
Her second-to-last day at the hospital was the happiest, most difficult of her life. A surprise farewell party in her honor. Balloons, hats, whistles. A gigantic chocolate cake with candles ablaze. Everyone, even the doctors, had gathered to wish her well. The short speech she had memorized didn’t work out as planned. Halfway through she broke down in tears. She wasn’t alone. Addresses were exchanged and promises to keep in touch. The morning after that, the last… More tears. More selfies.
Taxying down the runway at Ramstein Air Force Base, she looked out the window. Would she ever come this way again? As a civilian? A tourist? And the brothers and sisters she’d left behind. So much a part of her. Forever. She settled back in her seat feeling the sudden surge of power as the plane gathered speed, then lifted off. One final look at the city below and she closed her eyes.
Exactly one year, two months, and thirteen days since her boots had left their imprint on home soil, she sighted the Sans Fin River 10,000 feet below. As soon as the plane touched down, she phoned her parents. It wasn’t necessary. They had been waiting at the airport for over an hour. How was the flight? her mother wanted to know. Was she ok? And her father… Would she have assistance getting off the plane? Again her mother…
“Oh, and your room is all fixed up. You must be tired. Did you have a good flight? Yes, I’m sorry. I know I asked you that. I’m just so happy to have you home.”
When they spotted each other, her mother came running.
“Oh, Mom,” Dawn cried.
For the briefest of moments, Mildred stared at her daughter as if transfixed. Twenty years passed before her eyes.
“Yes, Sweetheart,” she said. “I’m here.”
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Ben Weise is a retired adjunct professor of ESL and Academic Writing at Rutgers University. His work has appeared in publications such as As You Were, Silhouette Press, Cosmographia Books, Wanderlust, Blue Nostalgia, and Pearl River Quarterly.
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