To Live

by C. G. Cooper

  Nix didn’t have an answer. He obviously never thought of his situation that way. He’d been so tied up in the unfairness of it all. He was being torn from his unit, from the only friends he had left, his only family.

  That’s when the question slipped out, so simple, so innocent. “How do I do it?”

  Because, he really didn’t know. How did he leave the only thing he thought he knew and go back to a world that probably would never understand him? He’d heard the rumors, the letters from back home. They were protesting more now. Returning veterans were no better than war criminals. What was he supposed to do, just take it? No, he couldn’t. He’d been trained to fight, trained to strike back.

  But Franks’ words stretched between them, enveloped Nix’s heart and let him take the next step.

  “How do you do it? You live, Nix. You just live. That’s how you give it back and give the world the finger at the same time. You just fucking live.”

  Elmore Thaddeus Nix, once Marine Corporal, stared down at his dying friend who was smiling now.

  “Eve told me the same thing.”

  Franks flashed that Cheshire smile. “Of course, she did. She was smarter than you.”

  Elmore smiled at this, and then looked at his friend with puzzlement. “But you—”

  Franks’ smile was wider now. “Never met her? Of course, I did. Who do you think told her you were in New York? I told her to take care of you. And she did.”

  There were tears in both Marines’ eyes now.

  “She never told me.”

  “Why should she? Anyway, I told her not to. Besides, I knew I’d come home and have no one. I couldn’t bear the thought of that happening to you. And look at me. I drank myself into the grave.” He looked down at the tubes attached to his arm. “Took a little longer than I thought, but I did it.”

  How could it be? Elmore knew every detail of the day he’d met Eve. It was a chance encounter. That’s even what Eve had said.

  “Why hadn’t you reached out sooner? Dammit, the times we could’ve had.”

  “C’mon, Nix, are you that thick? I had to let you live it out yourself. At least until it was time to swoop in and save you. Can’t you see that, Nix? You’ll always be my brother. I’d give you my liver if it was any good.”

  They both laughed at that then Franks foundered into a coughing fit. He looked worse now. Elmore saw it coming. Too close, that hand of death.

  “So you take life by the balls and you run with it, Nix. Don’t let me down, you hear?”

  Elmore nodded. Words would’ve let the cascade of tears flow. So he just nodded over and over again. Until his friend faded.

  So long, brother. I’ll keep my promise.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  The funeral was a simple affair made grand by the sheer size of the entourage streaming in behind Elmore Nix. They filed in like they first filed off the bus at Parris Island and MCRD San Diego. Some had beer bellies of age. Others were pushed along in wheelchairs they’d be strapped to until the end. But they were Marines, all. Brothers. Once young. Once untouchable. Once blazed and tested in war. The world had tried to break them. Some had been broken and then been mended back together, by friends, by family, by God.

  Now here they were, cherishing the memory of another comrade gone, but not forgotten.

  Elmore still held the tiny sheet of paper they’d found on the table next to the hospital bed. Written in scratchy ink it read:

  Nix, I don’t want a fancy funeral. All I want is for you boys to tell some funny stories and remember when we were all together. Then I want you to go out and make this world better. God bless you all. I’ll miss you. I’ll see you on the other side.

  Franks, Sgt. USMC

  Elmore couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his friend guarding the gates of heaven, patrolling the hallowed kingdom’s streets just like they’d sung in the Marine’s Hymn.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” Sam said, now beside him as they took their spots around the grave site. A pile of dirt lay ready; the casket soon to be lowered.

  “It is,” Elmore said, unable to keep the emotion from his voice. This wasn’t his friend’s soul getting ready to be shut for all eternity. It was merely another hollow vessel left for mortal memory. But he found it hard to think of tomorrow. He was scared. Franks had been one of the rocks in his life. As long as the stalwart Marine was alive, things were right with the world.

  It’s your time now, he told himself. Eve had told him that and then Franks. They knew. They’d always seen it in him. Even Sam, in her youth, saw something in Elmore Thaddeus Nix that the aging man never saw in himself. He’d assumed the mantle of a humble worker, plodding through life trying to do the right thing, keeping his head bent to the Earth.

  That was over now. He was here, staring into the eyes of his comrades, brothers in arms, friends. There were smiles, some grim, others cheery – like they’d arrived for a reunion. Or a birthday. Maybe that’s exactly what this was. Their birthday, Elmore’s birthday. A new day.

  They listened as the pastor said his words, adding in a quip here and there like Franks had demanded in his will. Just like him to run his own funeral. There were laughs, of course, and the requisite tears. But for the most part, the entire affair was uplifting, a fitting tribute to a man they’d admired in their youth and kept as a symbol of strength and determination throughout their lives. Yes, that was Sgt. Franks. Marine. Their Marine.

  There were stories. Some were risqué. Some were hilarious. They erupted in spurts from the crowd surrounding the grave. Laughter, God-gifted, sweet and fitting.

  And then it was over. No more goodbyes. On to live, together, apart, on to the horizon.

  Elmore was the last to leave, watching as the cemetery workers began the task of final burial.

  Sam was waiting by the car when he was ready. “Thanks for letting me come.”

  “What do you mean ‘letting’ you come?” Elmore said, wrapping her in a hug. “He wanted you here. I wanted you here. Come on. Let me tell you about the time Franks showed me how to drink a whole beer through a straw.”

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Their lives settled into a sort of rhythm. Treatment. Recovery. Rinse. Repeat.

  Oliver had of course understood about his father’s inability to join them for their scheduled dinner. They’d postponed the gathering until after Franks’ burial. And then there was a family vacation to plan around.

  Now the day was upon them again. Elmore didn’t know for sure, couldn’t until the doctor told him, but he felt stronger. Not physically. Damn that treatment. It took more out of him than a bout of malaria. But mentally, by measuring his soul, he felt more alive than he had in years. There was so much to do. His Marine buddies needed help in every conceivable way. Some afternoons he spent hours on the phone, just talking with retirees who had no one else to talk to. There were the visits to friends nearby, and ones within easy driving distance. His schedule was fuller now than it ever had been in his working days. And he loved it. Serving others kept him from thinking about his own predicament. Take that, CANCER!

  That’s the attitude he took with him on that late Saturday afternoon as he and Sam drove to Oliver’s. When they arrived, young Thad ran to the car and wasted no time pulling Sam out.

  “I built a fort in the backyard. You have to come see!” he said to her.

  “Aw jeez, here we go on the Pop Tart train to hell,” she whispered as the kid dragged her off.

  Elmore carried the pie they’d bought at the grocery store. Neither he nor Sam knew how to bake. It was something they’d learn together someday. For now, they’d rely on the experts.

  Oliver met him at the door. No hugs were offered. Too soon for that. At least this time he looked relaxed, or at least at ease.

  “Welcome back,” Oliver said.

  What I wouldn’t give to have him call me dad again, Elmore thought.

  “We brought a pie, store bought.”

  “Thanks.” Oliver too
k the pie and ushered his father in the door.

  Elmore smelled the smoke from the grill when he stepped inside, along with whatever side dishes were cooking in the kitchen.

  “Looks like Thad found a friend,” Oliver said, making his way to the kitchen. “He couldn’t stop asking for Sam.”

  “She complains but she really loves it.”

  “Are you going to adopt her?” Oliver asked without turning. The question floored Elmore.

  “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

  “You should. Who knows what would happen to her if she goes back in to the system. I could help, if you want.”

  There was compassion in his son’s voice now, some innocence that Elmore remembered from Oliver’s youth.

  “Sure. I mean, I’d appreciate that. I don’t have the faintest idea of what I’m doing.”

  That’s when Oliver turned and faced him, pie still in hand.

  “You’re doing the right thing, Dad.”

  Elmore couldn’t help the tears from coming.

  Oliver noticed. Nothing else to be said. Wonderful silence.

  “Come on,” he said after a moment. “Eve’s almost done with the salad.”

  The cookout was silently added to the growing list of best days in Elmore’s life. Oliver’s husband, Jacob, kept the conversation going. He owned a boutique interior design firm in town, and the ease with which he talked made Elmore think that he was very good with his clientele.

  The only one who didn’t partake in the conversation was Eve. She ate quietly, occasionally sneaking glances at Elmore, who pretended not to notice. He didn’t want to embarrass her. He knew Oliver noticed, because of the way he kept looking at his daughter like he was surprised by her quiet tongue.

  “That was delicious,” Elmore declared when the meal was over.

  “Yeah, that was really great. Thanks for letting me come,” Sam said, looking like she’d just hopped off a carnival ride.

  “You’re part of the family now, Sam. You better get used to it,” Jacob said. The married couple shared a look, silent consent that this would indeed happen again.

  “Dad, what about dessert?” Thad asked.

  “I’ll get it,” Eve said, quick to be out of her chair.

  “I’ll help,” Elmore said.

  She nodded at him, one of those shy little things that only a girl can give.

  Off they went, Elmore with an armful of plates.

  The dessert was Elmore and Sam’s pie added to a cornucopia of fruit piled high on a clear platter.

  “Thad loves strawberries,” Eve said. The only words she’d said without prompting during their visit.

  “What about you?” For some reason, Elmore was having a hard time finding the words. He wanted to make a good impression, and it was more than just the fact that this precious child shared his wife’s name.

  “I don’t know,” Eve said, eyes glued to where she was replacing a blueberry that had tumbled off the mountain that had been so carefully crafted.

  Say something, Elmore thought, when the silence felt like it might stretch to the moon.

  “I’ll bet you like pineapple,” he said.

  Her head whipped his way. “How did you know?”

  Elmore tapped the side of his head.

  “I’ve got special powers. Didn’t your dad tell you?”

  Her eyes scrunched together, unbelieving. “No, you don’t.”

  He was about to go along with the charade, cross his heart and hope to die. All that kiddie nonsense. But he stopped. Something in the room had changed like a subtle shift in the temperature, only it was more than that. Like the pressure had let up, and that’s when he knew his wife was there, urging him to say what he really wanted to say. So he did.

  “You’re right I don’t. I’m just your ordinary, run-of-the-mill old person.”

  She let out the tiniest giggle at that. “Then how did you know about the pineapple?”

  Keep the emotions in check, Corporal.

  “My Eve, your grandmother, she loved pineapples. So I just guessed. Maybe it has to do with the name, Eve. I remember the time we spent a week in Hawaii, and all she ate for breakfast was pineapples. Seven straight days. Didn’t think it was the least bit strange. I thought she was going to turn yellow!”

  No giggle this time, just wide eyes.

  “Is it okay, I mean, do you think you could tell me about her, when we have more time?”

  That’s when he knew it would be okay, that his life would go on. He’d fight tooth and nail for every last second with this child, with her brother and their parents. For the first time he felt whole, even if the doctors were telling him different. Damn them anyway and damn the cancer. He’d beat it, odds be damned. What did they know?

  His smile lit up the room now. It chased every ounce of shadow and ill will away in a ten-block radius. “Eve, it would be my pleasure. Now come on. I’m sure your brother would like his strawberries.”

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  “Well, I’m not sure what else to say…” the doctor’s face was all but calm. Elmore had known him for years, had been through good times and bad, but had never seen him so flustered. “…your scans came back clean,” the doctor said, pretty muted blurting out the words, confusion still there.

  “You don’t seem happy about that, Doc,” Elmore deadpanned.

  More fluster and bluster behind the vaunted desk.

  “I’m sorry, Elmore, it’s just that… well, how can I say this without sounding like a complete ass…”

  “Just say it.”

  Years of confidence blew out of the man as he exhaled in a long drawn out breath. “Your last tests, I told you I was optimistic. Well, I was, but that was because you looked,” searching for the words again, “well, you looked good.”

  “But my tests said otherwise.”

  The doctor looked up at his friend. “I’m sorry, Elmore. Sometimes a modicum of truth is better than a dagger to the chest.”

  “I understand.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure.”

  The doctor was searching again, only this time it felt to Elmore that he was looking for hints of betrayal from his friends. A lie. It had to be there, the doctor must be thinking.

  Finally, another huff and then, “You’ve got me then. I don’t understand how you’re taking this so calmly. I’d expect you to be kicking and screaming, maybe even driving to find the first malpractice lawyer between here and home. Hell, I could give you a list if you’d like.”

  Now that made Elmore smile. He’d been holding it in. No sense making it easy on the trusted physician. You’re not great friends unless you give a little grief every once in a while. Keeps you on your toes. Keeps you humble.

  “Now, Ted, you know me better than that.”

  “Well, sure, Elmore, but…”

  “No buts about it. You said it yourself. I’m on the mend. I feel healthy. My appetite is back. Life couldn’t be better.”

  “But…?”

  Elmore stood, holding up a hand as he rose.

  “Ted, you do good work. I trust you. But in this case, you didn’t do it alone.”

  “I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, Elmore. A lot of good, but a lot of bad too. Had to tell people some awful truths.”

  “I wouldn’t have your job for all the money in the world,” Elmore said, and he meant it. A good doctor was worth more than his weight in gold. You find a doctor that’s not only good at his craft, but takes the time to really care for a patient (despite what the insurance companies pay), now that was a doctor Elmore could stand behind. That was Ted. House calls without getting paid. Phone calls despite the inability to pay. Elmore knew. The community knew. That’s why they kept coming.

  “Okay. Then tell me this, Mr. Elmore Nix. I’ll shoot you straight because I know you can take it. You were on your way out. Your ticket was punched. Sure, treatment could’ve given you some time, but there’s never a guarantee with these things. So, tell me, in your ex
pert opinion – because I now believe you are an expert in such things – tell me how you got fixed? How are you walking out of my office with a clean bill of health?”

  The man was truly flummoxed. Elmore almost felt bad for him. With a now-familiar twinkle in his eye, Elmore grinned at his friend. “I finally learned how to live, Ted. That’s it. Plain and simple.”

  And with that, he left the doctor, and went to tell his family the good news. They were all outside on the playground: Sam, Oliver, Jacob, Eve, and little Thad.

  He was pretty sure Sam had known all along. She was a spitfire, that one. She’d gone as far as to tell the social worker to her face that even if the state didn’t see fit to let Elmore adopt her, she’d tattoo his name on her forehead, “Elmore Thaddeus Nix,” she’d said, sounding out every syllable, if they denied the request. “Nobody else would want me after that.” And Elmore was pretty sure the social worker had believed her.

  But it was young Eve who’d really known. It had been the night before. They’d come over for movie night, Sam’s idea. Now that Elmore had a monstrosity of a television (again, courtesy of Sam’s not so subtle suggestion), they’d settled in to watch Ben-Hur, the original with Charlton Heston. It was Oliver’s favorite and Elmore’s too. Just as the beginning credits rolled, Eve had leaned over and whispered in her grandfather’s ear, “You’re gonna be okay, grandpa. Grandma told me in my dreams last night.”