To Live

by C. G. Cooper

  “Just thought what?”

  “I just thought a father’s love transcended any ideas of what a man is supposed to be, when that man is his son.”

  Elmore felt his old self threatening to cave in on itself. The old him. The coward. The quiet one.

  No, he said to himself.

  “I was not a real man myself. A real man loves his son no matter what.” Elmore shook his head trying to find the right words. What would Eve say? Something perfect. Something so delicate that had the force of a titan’s fist. “I messed up, son. It was all me. Yell at me if you want to. Say whatever you want. But I’m not letting you go again. I made that mistake once. I’m not doing it.”

  Oliver was breathing in heavy sucks of air now. Elmore couldn’t tell if his son was going to leave the room or not. He didn’t blame him. He’d never blamed him for a damned thing. He’d come into their lives like a streak from heaven. Wonderful. Beautiful. All theirs, and Elmore had thrown it away.

  “You don’t know what it was like.”

  “Then tell me, son.”

  Oliver looked up, tears in his eyes now. “I… I never hated you. That’s what hurt the most. If I hated you, it would have been easy.”

  “I understand.”

  Oliver shook his head, hard, emphatically.

  “No. That girl…”

  “Sam.”

  “She lost her mother. If she can forgive, start over…”

  Elmore’s heart thudded with hope, so much that it felt like his chest might explode. “Take all the time you need, son. I won’t press you, I promise. And if it happens after I die, so be—”

  The boy threw himself into his father’s arms.

  So many words he should’ve said over the years. I’m sorry. I love you. That’s wonderful. Whether it was his generation, his upbringing, or just his innate stubbornness, he’d missed his chances.

  No more, he told himself. No more.

  Live.

  “I love you, son.” He couldn’t stop saying ‘son’, not now. Not ever.

  When the hug subsided, Oliver pulled himself away, avoiding his gaze, a touch of the old Nix stubbornness there – don’t let them see you like that.

  “You have my number,” said Elmore.

  Then he left, leaving Oliver to his thoughts. He didn’t have the perfect parting words, and that didn’t matter. He’d played it wide open, left it all out on the field. What more could he do? It was out of his hands.

  There was a time when you worried about your choices, and another when you just had faith that things would take care of themselves. This was the latter.

  Elmore looked up as the sun peeked out from behind the lazy clouds. It really was a glorious day, now. The rain was gone like a dazzling burst of life streaking through the heavens through every color in the world. He felt alive. He felt whole.

  Sam ran up then, the boy and girl close on her heels. Elmore knelt down to introduce himself.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” said the boy. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Elmore. What’s yours?”

  “Elmo? Like the red monster?”

  Elmore laughed. “Close. It’s Elmore.” He was careful to pronounce the R.

  The boy’s eyes lit up. “Oh. Okay.”

  “You didn’t tell me your name.”

  The boy looked to his sister and then to the front door. Oliver was there looking on. He nodded to the boy.

  “I’m Thaddeus, but everyone calls me Thad. You don’t say the H.”

  The boy stuck out his hand, as confident as a Wall Street broker.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Thad.” Elmore somehow held it together. Somehow. “Now, I hope I see you again soon.”

  “Can you bring the big girl with you?” Thad was pointing at Sam.

  Sam scooped him up in her arms, a ball of giggling arms and legs.

  “Of course, I’ll come back,” then she glanced at the front door. “If it’s okay with your dad.”

  Everyone looked at Oliver.

  “Sure. How about next weekend, after we get back from seeing Uncle Pete?”

  Thad put his arms in the air, the boxer who’d just taken down Mohammed Ali. “Yes!”

  Sam put him down and Thad ran to the back of the house again.

  “Oliver, honey,” said Sam, “you maybe wanna cut down on their sugar intake?”

  Oliver rolled his eyes with a light smile.

  Finally, Elmore had his chance with the girl, Eve.

  “Hi, Eve, I’m Elmore.” He offered his hand.

  “Hi,” she said shyly. Her hand was soft, delicate.

  “I sure am glad I got to meet you.”

  She offered a small smile, one of those where you could tell they weren’t sure whether to agree or not. He didn’t care.

  “Eve. That’s a beautiful name.”

  Then, to her surprise as much as Elmore’s, she blurted, “It was your wife’s name.”

  Elmore just smiled. “That’s right. She would’ve loved to meet you too.”

  That’s my granddaughter, Elmore thought, marveling at the fact that his family might just survive. I have two granddaughters now.

  “Are you coming back next weekend?” Eve asked. There was something in her question. More than what she’d actually asked.

  “As long as I’m welcome, I wouldn’t miss it.”

  Eve looked back at her father, like she didn’t want to ask a question she wasn’t allowed to ask.

  “Can we visit you some time, you know, to see where my grandma lived?”

  Elmore caught his breath. “If it’s okay with your dad, it’s just fine with me.”

  Eve retreated to the backyard after giving Elmore one last smile, one last treat for his swelling heart.

  “Thank you,” Elmore said to his son.

  A nod from Oliver, and warmth on his son’s face.

  Hope blossomed bigger now. And in that moment, more than before, Elmore knew he’d beaten cancer. Crushed into nonexistence.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  “You look like a kid running to Chuck E. Cheese,” Sam noted the next morning as Elmore rushed to scoop up his car keys and get to the garage.

  “I’m on a mission, Sam. We gotta kick cancer in the teeth.”

  And that’s the attitude they both took. Through aches. Through the visits to the porcelain king. They did it together.

  When Elmore went in for a routine check up on Friday, a day before their next visit with Oliver and clan, the nurse, who was usually gruff and all business, noted, “Mr. Nix, you sure look better today.”

  Elmore had looked in the mirror a half dozen times that morning. He knew there was nothing physically different. He was even down a couple more pounds. The muscles on his arms sagged like they’d popped and deflated. But he knew what she meant. He felt the fire again. Hot and growing.

  “Thank you,” he said simply. “And may I say that you look lovely today.” The veteran nurse actually blushed. Ah, the power of words.

  That day dragged by. Sam had done all she could to prepare. Not that there was much. The plan was to have a good old-fashioned cook out at Oliver’s. His husband would be there, along with the kids, of course. Casual. Fun. Together at last.

  But fate was a cruel mistress.

  The call came at 3:28pm. Elmore remembered and always would.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Elmore Nix?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Nix, this is Gloria Riddle. I’m a nurse at University Hospital.”

  Elmore’s first thought was Oliver. Oh God, please not that.

  He gulped down the fear as best he could.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Nix, you’re listed as next of kin for a Mr. George Franks.”

  “Okay,” was all he could get out.

  “Mr. Nix, I think it’s best if you visit your friend now.”

  “What happened?”

  “Mr. Nix, he doesn’t have much time.”

  That
was all Elmore needed to hear. He thanked the nurse and ended the call.

  Sam was with him then, her eyes searching his. How she’d grown. She had the look of a vet, someone who’d seen the worst that the enemy could give. Too young for that.

  “It’s Franks.”

  “Let’s go,” Sam said, grabbing his hand and leading him where he could go himself.

  They spoke with the same nurse who’d called. Gloria was all spit and polish with a healthy sprinkle of compassion. Perfect for her unfortunate position delivering the news no one wanted to deliver.

  They said their thanks and rushed to room 309.

  “Maybe you should go in without me,” Sam suggested as they approached the room of the dying. Elmore could smell it. It was all around them. The ICU, the place where so many come to die. Somehow, he’d pushed through the feeling, through the mist of death, as familiar as rain, as mud, as burning mortar.

  “Are you okay?” Elmore asked Sam. Maybe she was scared after all.

  “I’m fine, it’s just that he might want to see you alone.”

  “Nonsense. Come on.” This time he grabbed her hand and in they went.

  The room was bare and sterile. Machines bleeped and blooped. The place seemed almost hallowed, where a breath out of place would be sacrilege.

  Sgt. Franks’ chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. There was a line running into his arm, and that IV line was hooked to at least three bags that Elmore could see. No mask. That was a good sign, or was it? He couldn’t remember. No, that wasn’t right; it was the tube down the throat that was bad. No tube down the throat but one disappearing into the old Marine’s left nostril.

  “Should we sit?” Sam asked.

  “Go ahead,” Elmore said, making his way to the edge of the bed.

  He was looking for some sign of life, something that his friend was still there, mentally at least. The nurse said the doctor and his staff would give them the full run down. No doctor. So no answer.

  “Franks,” Elmore said, placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  Sgt. Franks let out a little cough that turned into a full-blown heave. Elmore listened for the rattle, the ‘death rattle’ they called it.

  It took a few coughs to clear and then the eyes came open, bloodshot but all Franks.

  “You made it,” he said.

  “They called.”

  “Good. At least someone can do their job around here.”

  “So…”

  “You’re wondering why I’m here?”

  “You were fine. I mean, we just saw you.”

  Franks nodded, glanced over at Sam. “How are you, young lady?”

  “Fine.”

  “Did I mess up dinner?” There was the famous Franks grin.

  “Big time,” Sam said with a soft smile.

  “We’ll have to reschedule,” said the old man.

  He wasn’t gonna get to it but Elmore was. “Franks, what the hell happened?”

  Franks shrugged, which set off a fresh set of coughs. When he caught his breath again he said, “Liver’s done.”

  “Why can’t you get a new one?”

  Franks leveled him with a glare that basically said Elmore was behind on the story.

  “You don’t think I already tried that?”

  Now Elmore’s ‘seldom-seen’ temper spiked. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me? We could’ve tried something. Made calls. Jesus, Franks, you’ve been like a fath—”

  Franks’ tight grin cut through Elmore’s anger. “There’s the Marine. Hold onto that, Nix. Never lose the fire. The ones that lose the fire are the first to die. You know that.”

  Elmore steadied his breath. “Yes.”

  “Gee,” said Franks, with barely a breath of his own, “I wonder who taught you that.”

  “You did, you salty old bastard.”

  “That’s right. And I didn’t say it just to hear myself squawk. So yeah, my liver’s shot. Too much boozing. Funny isn’t it. I kicked the habit and then the habit kicked me.”

  “There’s gotta be something.”

  “Full body shut down. They’ve got a phrase for it, but I like ‘shut down’ better. Sounds like my battery’s finally running out. Now that I think about it, maybe they should call it decommissioning. I kinda like that, like the old battleships dragged into mothballs.”

  “Tell me what I can do,” Elmore said.

  This man, this monolith who’d been the pillar of strength and courage, this Marine’s Marine, how could he be dying?

  “You’re here, aren’t you?”

  “I am.”

  “Then that’s it.”

  “What about the others? Should I call—?

  Franks’ response was curt, almost a rebuke.

  “No. Just you. And Sam of course.” He smiled at Sam.

  “But when I was in the hospital, you called up the reserves. You very well almost got us kicked out of the hospital.”

  “Sure. But that was for you. Me, I’m a different bird, Nix. And besides, I don’t want them to see me this way.”

  “Come on. Let me make a couple calls. You can’t—”

  “This is my death, not yours. You want me to issue a direct order?”

  Elmore wanted to shake the man. Before he could say another word, Franks winced in pain, his face going a ghastly shade of gray.

  “I don’t have much time.” As if to accentuate that point, one of the machines made a whooping sound, like the most dangerous of alarms. It quieted after a moment, but not before a nurse poked her head in to make sure everything was A-OK.

  When it was just the three of them again, Franks went on.

  “Remember your last day in Vietnam?”

  Elmore didn’t want to think about that but nodded anyway.

  “It’s still the same. You remember that.”

  And just like that, Elmore’s mind cascaded back through the years, through the jungle and past the pain. Back to a time that life forgot.

  They sat on the edge of a cliff, a click and half outside of the wire. They shouldn’t have been there, but who was going to tell Sgt. Franks and Cpl. Nix they couldn’t do something? All the guards had done was hand them an extra magazine apiece and tell them to watch out for VC.

  But Franks had a feel for the land now. Nix knew he’d never had that. He understood war, its savagery, the lay of the battlefield. But like a Sioux warrior on the plains, Franks seemed to know every blade of grass, every oversized leaf on the rain-soaked trees.

  So here they were, sitting in the most beautiful place Elmore Nix had ever seen. The cliff they sat on was part of a three-quarter circle high above the ground. Across the way, waterfalls overflowed with the beginnings of the monsoon season. Birds chirped from unseen perches and the world settled into a peace untouched by war just outside the boundaries of this strange oasis.

  “What is this place?”

  Franks took a long drag from his cigarette and then passed it to Nix. Blue smoke streamed out as he answered. “Found it on one of my first patrols. Locals say it’s some kind of holy place. We probably shouldn’t even be smoking here. Nobody at headquarters knows what it is. Even asked the colonel once and he said it was off limits. Guess both sides just agreed to let it lie.”

  “Amazing,” Elmore said, soaking it all in. This place, this paradise, how had it stood through the pounding of artillery and the scorching of napalm?

  He had one day left until they shipped him back to the States. He’d thought about just making a run for it, hiding in the bush. But what would that accomplish? He could live off the land, some mysterious figure saving American units until the war was over. Just a pipe dream. Stupid kid stuff.

  Besides, he had a feeling that Franks had sensed his moves. Since the brass had told him he was going home, Franks had been on him like a suicide watch. He would never do that, but his insides wanted to do something. Like an athlete retired before his time, the warrior spirit in Nix burned, daring the world to put it out.

  “So, you’r
e going home tomorrow,” Franks said, snapping him out of his reverie.

  “Yeah.”

  “Wish I was going with you.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Franks took the cigarette and inhaled deeply, burning the end red. “I’d leave right now if they let me.”

  “Bullshit,” Nix repeated.

  “You already said that. And yeah, I’d go in a heartbeat.”

  “But our Marines…”

  Franks sat up, leveled Nix with the cool stare of every salty veteran who’d stared down the mortar tube of eternity.

  “You think you’re special.”

  The simple words stung like a harpoon tearing through Nix’s chest.

  “No, I…”

  Franks laughed, breaking his serious facade.

  “You’re not alone, Nix. I thought I was special too. It took a gunny bleeding out in my arms to tell me different. Old bastard gave me shit every day for two months. Motherfucker looked sixty years old. You know how old he was when he died? Barely thirty.” Franks shook his head in wonder. “War does crazy shit to us, Nix. Remember that. Anyway, back to you being special. I’ll tell you what that gunny with no legs told me. He said, ‘The Corps will replace you in a New York minute.’ That’s what he said, honest to Skippy. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of kids who don’t know they’re the next Cpl. Nix. How’s that make you feel?”

  “You’re wrong.”

  Nix could hold the old salt’s gaze now.

  “You really think so? I was a DI at PI before this shitshow of a war. You know how many boots I tore down and built up again? The big green machine’s been doing it for hundreds of years and they’ll keep doing it hundreds of years after we’re gone. We’re not special.” Another long drag, then the words came out more pronounced, and even in the moment, even with all the anger swirling in Nix’s head, he still recognized the sanctity of the coming words.

  “We’re not special, but we were given a gift. We made it, or at least we made it so far. We’ve seen the worst of what life has to offer. And now you, lowly Corporal Nix, you get the golden ticket home and you don’t want to go.” Franks snorted, stubbed out the cig on his boot, and stuffed the butt into his breast pocket. “This…” he spread his arms, motioning to the glory that was the world all around them. “This is our gift.” Then he poked his index finger into Nix’s chest, and then into his own. “And this, this they can never take away from us. You think we ever would’ve met in the real world? No god dammed way. I was halfway to jail before the Corps caught up with me. Mama’s green machine gave me a second chance, even though I fought it every step of the way. So here it is, Nix. The Corps, the world, hell, call it God if you want, they’re all giving you a second chance. Vietnam chewed you up and now it’s spitting you back out. Are you gonna take that chance?”