Note 1: This is a work of fiction, any similarities to real people is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Note 2: After seeing the commits in one my other postings I decided to set the record straight. I'm a native English speaker, but suffer from Dyslexic Dysgraphia.I have yet to find an editor, so if you know one, feel free to drop a line and let me know.
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As the plane landed at my hometown airport I notice the crowds waiting. As I sat waiting for the plane to come to a stop I was thinking, 'Why couldn't I been from some big city? Yeah, I would have been in the papers, but here in the middle of nowhere USA?' According to the local newspaper, I was a hero. But I didn't feel that way. I did what I had to do to save my platoon back in that god for shaken shit hole in Iraq. For my actions on that day, I was awarded one of the highest honors in the military Distinguished Service Cross.
That was four years ago, and I haven't been home in 13 years. But a lot had changed in the past four years. I was now Sergeant First Class John Allen RA Retired. Well retired isn't the right word to use. I was medically discharged after an IED took off my right leg just above where my knee used to be. Then my parents and only sister were killed when they were driving out to see me at Walter Reed. I was thinking sometimes fate could be cruel mistress.
Once the plane came to a stop the dozen or so passengers got up and started to get off the short haul passenger aircraft used by Delta for these kinds of flights. I waited for a second. There were a lot of reasons I haven't been back here in 13 years. Ok, that wasn't totally true either.
Her name was Rebecca and she had been my high school sweetheart. Back in high school everyone said we were the perfect couple and they said they saw us at the wedding chapel soon after we finished college. But there was one detail everyone over looked. Her father was the one of the richest men in the state, and with money came power.
Then there was my family, we were dirt road poor. We never wanted for anything, but then again we never had anything new either. I think during high school her father put up with the fact me and Rebecca were dating and honestly believed it would never go anywhere. That all changed after we graduated high school, and I asked for her hand in marriage.
As I was thinking about the reason I had never been back home, the pilot came up to me, "Sergeant you're home."
I looked around and saw we were the only two people still on the plane. I looked up the pilot, "Oh sorry sir. It's just been a long time since I been home."
The pilot looked at me and then my fruit salad. I could tell by the look he made he knew what a few of those awards meant. As I was getting up the pilot spoke again, "Sergeant you did your country proud. Now enjoy your retirement."
I started down the ramp and saw the crowd of people. It looked like the whole town was here to see me come home. They even had the JROTC color guard unit from the high school out. All I was thinking was I wasn't a hero; the heroes were the ones who never made it back home. I did what I had to do to keep more soldiers from ending up toe up like the true heroes.
Walking down the stairway I saw the people clapping and cheering, and I wonder if I had returned as just another sergeant would I get this kind of fan fair? But as I scanned the crowd I notice Rebecca wasn't there. I was glad of that, because that was one scar I knew that would never heal and I don't think I could have handed her today.
After saying a few words to the writer of the local newspaper man, I was given the key to the city by the mayor. Then a few photo shoots later, I started back to my childhood home. It was a long drive and allowed me time to think. But my thoughts kept coming back to Rebecca and why I left this town in the first place.
Right after high school I asked Rebecca to be my wife. She said yes. Then I when to her father to get his blessing. To say he blew a fuse was an understatement of the first order. He called me every name you could call a poor person. He told I wasn't fit to marry his daughter and only allowed it to go on because he just figured that it was a phase Rebecca was going through.
I told him that it was no phase, and I wanted Rebecca to be my wife. At the time Rebecca and I were planning on going to the same college. Her father was paying her tuition; I was going on an ROTC scholarship. But the day after I spoke to Rebecca's father everything started to change, and for the worse.
Somehow he got my ROTC scholarship yanked. I still don't know how he pulled that one off. Then when he found out I was still trying to marry Rebecca and was working on getting student loans to pay my tuition, that was when he when off the deep end. He told Rebecca that if she when ahead and married me, he would disown her. She would be cut off from her family and never be allowed to return home.
That was the stake that finally drove us apart. She was crying when she gave me my high school ring back. Always wanting out of this town, I set fuck it. I enlisted in the Army as an Infantryman three days later. I hoped to get into the Green to Gold program so I could become an officer like I always dreamed of, but then 9/11 changed everything. Six combat tours and three Purple Hearts later I was back in my home town.
As I was turning down the dirt road back to my childhood home I thoughts kept coming back to something my mother told be a right after that god damn shit hole of a down in Iraq. Rebecca's father had died of a massive stroke, and I should call Becky up. I had always single my whole time in the army. I never even had a steady girlfriend. Yes I had more than my fair share of lovers during my 13 year hitch in the army, but nothing ever close to what one would call a steady girlfriend. My platoon mates had always called me a player, but the truth was different.
I just wanted to find someone who could replace the hole Rebecca ripped out of me, but I never found a woman up to the task. Honestly at this point I didn't think I ever would, but I had come to understand that and got use to the idea. I was going to die alone. Saying that didn't hurt as bad as it used to, but there was still pain in saying that. Because who wants to die alone?
Once I was close enough to see my house, I noticed there was a car in front of it. I was wondering who would be here? I knew there were no outstanding loans on the house, so it couldn't be the bank. I have lost touch with all my high school friends, so who was this and what they want?
As I pulled up in front of my house, my heart skipped a beat. I was thinking she had a lot of nerve coming here.
I noticed though she had let her hair go out since the last time I seen her. Even though she was in her early 30s, just like I was, she was still looking just as good as that day I last saw her 13 years ago. Her body was just as curvy as I remember it. Then I noticed her face, it still looked like it could belong to a model like it always had.
It took me the better part of a minute to get my thoughts together so I could speak to Rebecca. Rebecca could see the confusion in my face and understood I needed time. Finally, I spoke, or tried to, "Becky..." I couldn't get any more out before I fell to my knee and started to cry. All the pain came back to the surface. The pain from the IED blast in Afghanistan, to the loss of my family, than seeing the only woman I have ever loved and who broke my heart stand in front of me was just too much to bear.
Becky came down the steps with lighting speed when she saw me go to my knee. Within seconds she was also on the ground beside me. She was hugging me and was giving me her shoulder to cry on. Everyone has a breaking point and I had just reached mine.
A few minutes later, Becky helped me back to my feet. The tears were still flowing as she helped me up the stairs and into my house. It took a moment for me to find the right key since it had been so long since I have been standing here. But once back into my childhood home, I made a beeline to the place my father kept his bottle of whiskey hid. My mom never liked the booze, and didn't want in the house, but that didn't keep pops from keeping a bottle hid. I found it and saw it was about half full through the tears that were pouring out of my eyes. I opened the cap and took a long pull.
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I woke up the next morning in bed. The first thing I notice I had a hangover bigger than Texas. Then I noticed I wasn't in my dress blues anymore. How did I get into my PT gear I wonder? The next thing I notice there were two aspirins and a bottle of water on the night stand next to my bed. Not looking a good house in the mouth, I grab both aspirins and the water. Within second the aspirins were on their way to my stomach. I wonder how much longer before they started to kick this hangover to the curb.
As I started to wonder to the kitchen, I was still trying to figure out how I got out of my dress blues and into my PT gear. I was thinking about the last thing I remember from the day before. I froze in my tracks, she wouldn't? Would she? I skipped the kitchen and headed to the living room, where sure enough Becky was sleeping on the couch. I sat down in one of the chairs in the living room, and said out loud, "Oh lord I need another drink."
Well Becky wasn't sleep, but wasn't totally awake either. She rolled over to her side, "No you don't John."
I sat there in stun silence as I looked at the most beautiful women I have ever seen. How could one woman cause me so much pain and joy all in the same breath?
After a few minutes I when back into the kitchen and put the coffee pot on. I made the coffee stronger than normal. As I was pouring the first cup, Becky came into the kitchen. Her dress was all winked up from sleeping in it. I notice she was barefoot as she came in. She spoke, "So what does a lady have to do to get a cup of coffee?"
If I wasn't so hung-over, I might have noticed the look in her eye. But instead I said, "God I could really use another drink."