The Telling

by Eden Winters

  For long moments Raff sat quietly, his face revealing nothing, until Michael felt the anger slowly begin to drain. It wasn’t possible to pick a fight with someone who wouldn’t fight back. Finally, he withdrew and sank back into the couch he’d previously vacated.

  “Do you truly believe that?” Raff finally asked.

  “What else can I believe? He was in my place in the Hummer. If I’d been there, he’d still be alive.”

  “You can’t know that, Michael. How many men from your own transport died?”

  Thinking back to that day Michael felt embarrassment that, as much as he dwelled on Jimmy’s death, he’d hardly given a thought to the other casualties. “Two,” he answered quietly.

  “So, being in the transport was no guarantee of survival.”

  “I survived, Ryan survived!” he argued.

  “Yes, were any of the men who died sitting near you or Ryan?”

  A smiling face appeared in his mind’s eye, replaced by an image of the same young man, still and lifeless upon the ground. “Harris was sitting next to Ryan, opposite me.”

  “And if Jimmy were in that truck he’d be sitting next to Ryan, right?”

  “Yes.”

  Continuing with his calm logic, Raff said, “If that’s true, then depending on which side of Ryan he was sitting, he still might not have survived the attack.”

  “I survived!” Michael yelled.

  “Yes, you did. And I hope one day to see you grateful for that fact, instead of thinking that you are so powerful that you control another man’s destiny.” Although the counselor never raised his voice, those harsh words stung like a slap to the face.

  Michael jumped to his feet with every intention of walking out the door and never looking back.

  “Michael, listen to me.” The pleading in that voice caused him to stop short of the door and turn to face his tormentor.

  “You are so unlike that man who died, from what you told me. You’re bigger, more muscular. That alone might have been the deciding factor. You have the quick reflexes of a born athlete. And from what you told me, you stopped Ryan from running into certain death and shielded him with your own body.” Raff stood and made his way over to where Michael stood immobile. “You saved his life, Michael. Even when he begged and pleaded to get away, you had your wits about you and knew it was suicide. You kept him alive. I think instead of blaming you for his death, Jimmy would thank you for saving his best friend.”

  “His lover,” Michael corrected.

  “Okay, then, his lover. I think Jimmy would be grateful for that, don’t you?”

  So long Michael had carried his pain and anger, a heavy burden upon his shoulders. But Rafe spoke the truth. Ryan meant everything to Jimmy, and beyond the shadow of a doubt the freckled redhead from Arkansas would have gladly laid down his own life for the young man he’d built his world around.

  “You’re right,” Michael finally agreed, hanging his head.

  “Don’t you think that they’d both grieve for you if you had been the one killed?”

  Without even having to think about it he knew they would have. It would have devastated them and perhaps even now they’d be dealing with guilt issues of their own.

  Raff wasn’t finished yet. “I cannot tell you what happened that day, because I wasn’t there. But I do know without a shadow of a doubt that you acted to the best of your ability as a soldier, as a man, and as a friend. You saved Ryan through a selfless act of protection and no one could have asked more of you.”

  Though many times he’d heard those words from his commanding officers, the medics, and guys in his unit, they only now sank in, delivered by this war-scarred veteran, in the comfort of a plush, modern office, far removed from the battlefield.

  “There’s one more thing you should think about. Although no one you talked to knows why the seating arrangement changed, it was your platoon leader’s assignment to make, not yours. Am I correct?”

  “You are,” was more of an exhalation than actual words. “I couldn’t ask him, because he’s one of the ones who died. So I’ll never know.”

  Raff barked, “Ah-ten-hut!”

  On pure reflex Michael snapped to attention, deeply embarrassed when he realized he saluted a civilian and not a uniformed officer.

  “At ease, soldier,” Raff said, voice now back to the soothing tones he normally used.

  Michael exhaled harshly and forced himself to relax, though his heart still raced.

  “Why did you snap to attention, Michael?”

  “Because you ordered me to,” Michael replied, barely biting off the ‘sir’ he nearly added.

  “Big deal. I ordered you to do something, you didn’t have to comply. Try again. Why did you follow my orders?”

  He cocked his head to the side and studied Raff, puzzling out whatever point the man was trying to make.

  White teeth contrasted brightly with dark skin when the big man smiled. “You followed my orders because you are a United States soldier and were trained to do so without question.” The smile broadened when he added, “If you had done that to me you’d have gotten the same response.”

  The smile disappeared, Raff’s expression becoming serious. He leaned down slightly to be on eye level with Michael. “I’ll tell you exactly what happened that day. You were given an order and you followed it, as did Jimmy and Ryan. Jimmy was a casualty of war. You did nothing to contribute to his death, and if given the chance, you would have gladly taken his place. Friends don’t come any better than that.”

  The tears that had threatened now broke free, and a large, fat drop rolled down Michael’s face, quickly followed by another, and another, until they trickled in a steady stream down his chin to fall silently to the carpet.

  “Look at me, Michael.” Though the words were softly spoken, Rafe made a command.

  Michael lifted his head and watched Raff through tear-filled eyes.

  “Michael Ritter, you are a good man and I’m proud to know you. A truer friend could not exist. But it’s time, Michael. It’s time to let go of the guilt. You have nothing to feel guilty for.”

  Suddenly exhausted, the remaining anger drained away, only to be replaced by huge wave of grief that pressed down like a giant hand. Yes, his rational mind understood that Michael wasn’t to blame, but like a priest absolving a sinner, it took someone voicing what he already knew for the truth to penetrate the guilt and fear, where rational thought held no sway.

  Slowly sliding down the wall to the floor, he huddled into a ball, mourning for not only his lost friend, but for all the men in his unit who’d been laughing and smiling one minute and forever silenced the next.

  A quiet, “A-hem” caused him to glance up. A throw pillow, one of many scattered around the office, hovered in front of his nose. Michael snatched it from Raff’s hand, wrapped his arms around the squishy fabric, and held the cushion like he wanted to be held. He pulled his knees up and placed the pillow on top, burying his face in the soft comfort. His body shuddered as he surrendered the tight control he’d kept on his emotions for so long. Hot tears and heartrending wails purged away the guilt, the doubt, and the sorrow as he finally opened up and released what he’d kept locked inside.

  He cried for Ryan, who’d found the love of his life at a very young age, but who, at twenty-three, faced a life alone, never again to see or hold the one he’d hoped to grow old with. He cried also for his mother, who, at twice Ryan’s age had spent her whole life in a futile effort to find a love that strong, and for his sister, who’d never held her son in her arms, and who would forever carry the weight of abandonment by the child’s father.

  Lastly he cried for himself, for the friend he had lost, and plans that had been made that would never see fruition. Sitting on the floor in his counselor’s office, thousands of miles from the sands of Iraq, Michael Ritter opened his heart just enough to let someone out. Not that Jimmy would ever be completely gone—he wouldn’t want that—but he banished the painful memories in a flood of
hot tears, leaving behind the good times.

  And finally, he cried for the young boy who’d wanted nothing more than to please his parents, only to face mocking and ridicule by the man he should have been able to look up to.

  Hearing a groan, Michael looked over to see his counselor awkwardly attempting to ease his large body to the floor next to him. They sat side by side, Raff calmly handing him tissues until the worst was over. The wracking wails turned to shuddering sobs, then subsided to silent tears.

  Eventually the emotional storm passed. “We were all just kids, you know,” Michael began. “We wanted adventure, to get away from home, and to earn money for college.”

  “I know.”

  A quick glance to his left revealed that the professional veneer had finally cracked. The choked response accompanied a wet face—Raff joining him in grief. Dumbstruck, Michael sat with his mouth hanging open, watching the most stoic individual he knew indulging in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.

  The big man chuckled, a rich, rumbling sound, much like the purring of his grandparents’ ancient cat. With a bittersweet smile Raff explained, “You forget, Michael, that I’m your counselor for a reason. It was the same in my time. Young people leave home, never fully knowing what’s out there. Our parents try to prepare us, but there’s no telling where life will take you.”

  “We were just a bunch of dumb kids with no clue what we were getting into. Hell, we thought anything was better than where we grew up.” Michael shook his head, recalling a younger, headstrong version of himself. One that thought he knew it all and could handle any situation, whose only goal was escaping the life he was living at the time. “Man, were we ever wrong.”

  “Tell me about Jimmy,” Raff asked. “Not how he died, but how he lived.”

  Lying back against the wall, Michael thought for a moment. “Jimmy was the biggest dreamer I’ve ever met, coming up with a new plan or scheme every day.” Now able to smile at the bittersweet memory, Michael recalled his friend, unimpeded by the demons that had haunted him since the day of the attack. They were strangely silent there in the tranquility of Raff’s office, in the aftermath of his emotional purging. “One day he’d say he and Ryan were going to open a restaurant, the next day we were all gonna go to Aruba. You never got bored talking to him ‘cause he could come up with some crazy assed shit to talk about.”

  Turning to Raff he said, “You know, it’s the weirdest thing, but I’m still not convinced he was truly gay. When we were alone, just the three of us, Ryan, Jimmy, and me, Ryan would talk about guys and how hot they were.” Heat suffused his cheeks at the memory. “And they clued in to me immediately. They even brought it to my attention that I was covertly checking out guys, and they were fine with that. But Jimmy? I never once heard him talk about guys, or even check them out. He didn’t talk about or look at girls, either. I honestly think Ryan was the only person he ever saw in that light.”

  Raff sounded truly interested when he asked, “How long had they been together?”

  Thinking back to the stories Jimmy and Ryan had told him during their ‘getting acquainted’ conversations, he couldn’t hide a tremulous smile at the bond the two men had shared. “They grew up together, met as kids and pretty much never parted.” Pausing for a moment, Michael allowed himself a brief mental visit with his old friends, as they’d been when he’d first met them. “Jimmy had a great family, but they were farmers and kind of poor, so he joined up for the college funds. Ryan had a bad home life and wanted out of his situation. Not to mention that he would happily go wherever Jimmy did. Neither one expected what happened.”

  “Where is Ryan now? Do you see him? Talk to him?”

  “He moved in with his uncle. We talk all the time, but I haven’t seen him since I came home. Neither one was out to their families, so he needs someone to talk to about Jimmy.”

  “Then he’s lucky to have you.”

  “Nah, I’m the lucky one. I’m seeing that now.” Michael abruptly changed the subject as he glanced at his watch. “Look, I know we’ve got about fifteen more minutes, but would you mind if I just rested here for a few?”

  “Whatever you need,” Raff replied.

  Those words brought a smile to Michael’s face, an echo of the promise Jay had made on the porch—a promise repeatedly kept.

  Raff groaned as he climbed from the floor. “Why don’t you stretch out on the couch, Michael? You’d be more comfortable.”

  “Nah, I’m good,” Michael assured him with a weak grin. He yawned and stretched out on the floor with the pillow, falling asleep within minutes.

  ***

  Jay tapped on the door and entered, surprised at first not to see Michael, until Raff pointed to the floor. There Michael lay, peacefully asleep, arms curled tightly around a pillow.

  “Keep him quiet, let him rest,” Raff said. “Depending on how he feels in the morning, he might need to take the day off and relax. Emotionally he’s worn out.”

  Rising from his desk and crossing the room to the stereo, the counselor removed a CD and returned it to its case, which he handed to Jay. With a quick glance to Michael, he quietly instructed, “Be patient; he’s had a very hard day.”

  Jay nodded and asked, “Did he finally talk?”

  Raff shook his head and repeated, “Just be patient. And it wouldn’t be unusual for him to exhibit some volatile behavior. Don’t take anything he says right now to heart. He’s dealing with a lot. Be there, offer your support. If things get bad, he has a prescription for alprazolam that’ll help.”

  Although frustrated that the man wasn’t more forthcoming, Jay appreciated doctor, or rather, counselor-patient confidentiality and didn’t ask again. Instead he shook Raff’s hand. Whatever the man did helped. Michael’s condition seemed to be improving.

  “C’mon, Blondie,” Jay said as he helped a sleepy Michael from the floor. “Let’s get you home.”

  Michael mumbled a groggy good-bye to Raff and allowed Jay to guide him outside. As Jay tucked his exhausted lover in the car, he could have sworn he heard Michael mumble, “Goodbye, Jimmy.”

  ***

  “Hey, Big Guy, how’s it going?” Ryan sounded much less strained than in previous conversations, more like the happy-go-lucky young recruit Michael remembered.

  “Ryan!” he responded, pleased with the unexpected call. “I was just thinking about calling you.”

  “Great minds think alike,” Ryan quipped.

  Michael chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. How’re you doing?”

  A long pause preceded the answer. “I’m doing better, actually. My uncle’s quit worrying so much, though my sister still drives me crazy. How about you?”

  “Fine.”. As the words left his mouth Michael realized that, unlike his usual automatic response to that question, this time he meant it. Damn. When did that happen? When had he gone from merely existing to being ‘fine?’

  The next question wasn’t so cheerfully answered, “Have you enrolled anywhere yet?”

  Michael’s smile fell. He hadn’t yet decided what to do on that score and needed to make a decision—soon. “Not yet,” he admitted, hoping Ryan would let it drop.

  Apparently Ryan didn’t notice his reluctance to talk about the future and school, for he pressed on. “Well, brace yourself. I’ve narrowed my choices down to two.”

  “That’s good. You gonna go local?” Personally, Michael felt that his friend would greatly benefit from a change of scenery.

  A snicker drifted over the phone line, a sound he hadn’t heard Ryan make in a very long time. “Funny you should ask that, Michael. One of the schools is in your hometown.”

  “Really? You’re coming to Avery?”

  The smile was apparent in his voice when Ryan replied, “Well, I’m still deciding, but they have one of the best nursing programs in the country, so I’m told.”

  “They do,” Michael agreed. “In fact, my sister is about to graduate from there. So, you’re gonna study nursing after all?” Jimmy
had insisted many times over the years that caring for others was Ryan’s true calling.

  “Yeah. I took a test locally and have all the necessary scores for admittance.” That was no surprise. Ryan Jackson was extremely intelligent for all his backcountry upbringing.

  “I’m so proud of you.” The poor kid deserved all the happiness life could possibly hand him.

  It was too soon after the incident for the topic not to come up at least once in their conversation, but this time determination replaced the sorrow in Ryan’s voice. “I still miss Jimmy and that’ll never stop, but I have to go on.”

  “Yes, you do,” Michael agreed. A long paused ensued.

  Ryan changed the subject, “So what about you? Anything interesting happening in Podunk, Alabama?”

  Heat raced to Michael’s face all the way up to his ears. It felt strange discussing a new boyfriend with someone who’d lost their own lover not so long ago. Cautiously he ventured, “I… I met somebody.”

  Far from sounding hurt or jealous, Ryan’s shouted, “Whooo-hoo! Way to go, Michael.”

  “It… it doesn’t bother you?”

  “Bother me? Why should it bother me? Don’t you think I want you to be happy? Now, spill. I want to know all about… Errr… is it a girl or a guy?”

  Michael exaggerated a sigh. “Okay, you were right. Are you happy now?”

  “Extremely,” came the smug reply.

  Ryan truly sounded happy for him, and Michael finally did what he’d wanted to do for days—tell him about Jay. “Well, he goes to Avery, but he’s from Texas.”

  “What part?”

  “Brownsville.”

  “Cool. I’ve been there. Where’d you find him?”

  Michael’s mind went back to the day such a short time ago when he’d walked into his sister’s communal living room and seen Jay Ortiz for the first time. “My sister shares a house with a bunch of other college students and he’s one of them.”