by Sonia Rumzi
Darlene
John folded the torn grimy edged paper and slipped it in his breast pocket again. When he died here, they would find it on his body and know what the hussy did to him. Everyone will know that the conniving woman left him as he fought for his country.
"My wife went through the money first," he said now.
"What you say?" asked Marcus.
"The twenty-five grand they gave us when we came here."
"The Combat Pay?" repeated Marcus thinking that their ignorance was beyond even him.
"Yeah, that. The money from the first tour. She went through it first then left me when it was done," said John. "I left her in charge of it all. I was not sure if I would get back. I left it all there for her. She went through all of it in two months."
"That's a lot of damn money in two months," said Marcus.
"Yeah, it was. It was all I had too. I mean Staff Sergeant, we have nothing but our pay. My family ain't rich or nothin'! They're poor folk from Arkansas."
"I'm sorry," said Marcus stunned at all the talk.
"Nah, not your fault. Never knew I's poor. Never knew till I married. She wanted more and I's not sure what she needed. I had the money they gave me and she spent it all."
No one answered.
"She could have it. I did not begrudge her that. I just wish she stayed."
When Jimmy stood up all of a sudden, he hit his head on the metal of the tank above him then plopped down with a yowl swearing, holding his head with both hands. The other three tried to pry his hands away to inspect for damage and sure enough Jimmy bled all over his face from the gash in his head.
"How many times will I say not to do that Jimmy? This is a bad cut," said Marcus annoyed with the Junior Marine.
"Where is the kit, John? Pass it to me," said Francis for the first time all morning.
Jimmy cried.
"Stop that Jimmy," said Marcus. "Stop with the blubbering."
"You told me to grieve Staff Sergeant," said Jimmy dripping tears and snot.
"Stop grieving all over my pants, man," acting tough in case his own fears came through. As Francis cleaned the gash on the Marine's head, Marcus thought of home.
"I love this apartment. Thank you Babe. This is wonderful!" she kept saying as she clung to his neck kissing him all over his face.
Their son lay in his seat, clean, fed, happy and making his father proud. Marcus put his arm around his woman and kissed the top of her head. More and more he felt the distance between them. More and more, he stayed away from their home.
Nothing changed though. When he arrived, she greeted him with a smile and a kiss, dinner on the table and his son asleep. Always on the ready, she was available for love making when he wanted. Never once did he remember her refusing him.
After love making, he turned his back on her and fell asleep before she could count to five. The few times they talked, he had little to say and she never pressed.
One evening she fed the child mashed potatoes.
"What are you doing?" he asked her.
"Feeding him," she laughed. "What does it look like?"
"How do you know he's ready to eat that? Did you ask someone?"
"I just know," she said to him.
"How?"
"I do not know how Marcus. I just do."
"You stopped breast feeding. Is that good? Did you ask your Mother or something?"
"No. I know that babies get their antibodies the first six months. After that, it is pointless."
"Says who?" sounding argumentative.
"Oh Marcus! That is so sweet."
As the dinner ended and she cleaned the table and kitchen, he turned on the television and sat in his chair listening to the noises she made. His son sat in his chair, gargling at his mother following her with his eyes.
Every sound in the kitchen bothered Marcus. Every move she made got on his nerves.
"Can you stop that racket in there? I can't hear myself think."
"I am so sorry. I will try to be quieter."
He heard her talking to his son. "We have to be quiet, honey," she said to the smiling boy. "We have to be quiet as a mouse so Daddy can rest after work, right?" The child giggled at his Mother, as she loomed over him.
"I can't stand this," said Marcus flinging himself off the chair. "I'm going out. I can't deal with all the noise you make."
He stormed out of the apartment leaving his family behind again.
"I am pregnant," she said to him one warm night.
"That's great! Another son. I want to have five or six children."
"Five or six is a little more than I can handle," she explained. "Two is plenty. One for each hand."
"Faith, I want to pollute the world with my seed," he said with sincerity that surprised even his understanding wife.
"That is great Babe, except I have only two hands."
"I'm here. I have the other two hands," he laughed.
"Oh yeah," she laughed with him, "just like you help with little Marcus."
"What does that mean?" he asked.
"It means that I have to do the taking care of and I cannot take care of more than two children," she said still smiling.
"Are you suggesting that I don't take care of you guys?"
"Marcus, no. That is not what I said. I said that I cannot take care of more than two."
"You just said that I don't do anything for my son."
"I am sorry Babe, that is not what I meant."
Marcus pushed his chair back and stood up.
"I'm the one who takes care of this family. I don't appreciate being told that I don't."
"Marcus honey," said the appeasing woman, "that is not what I said sweetheart. Please sit down and finish your dinner."
"I lost my appetite now. I can't believe that you talk to me like that."
"Marcus, come on. I meant nothing by it. I was letting you know that I cannot take care of six children ..."
"Enough! You already said that several times. I know what I can take care of. I know I can handle taking care for six or twelve kids. I am a good Father."
"Marcus you are a very good provider. Why are you so upset?"
"You should have been married to my loser Father who left us without nothing. Left us to fend for ourselves. Left us as soon as I was born," said Marcus, angry.
"Marcus...," tried the woman again.
"Instead you sit here in this home that I provide and complain about how I don't take care of things. Maybe you should go get a job and see how it is for real?"
"Marcus, I thought we agreed ...," she started again.
"Maybe what I give you is not enough to satisfy your cravings for whatever it is you think you need."
When her tears came, he ignored them. If he stopped, he would collect her in his arms and the fight would end. Forgiving him was her strength. She would forgive him in a moment. All he had to do was stop. Even the asking for forgiveness was not a requirement.
"I can't imagine why I thought that this would be different."
And with that he strode to the door, walked out slamming it behind him.
"Ouch!" said the Lance Corporal that Francis ministered to now.
"Stay still for heaven's sake," said Marcus. "What's wrong with you?"
"I wanna go home," cried Jimmy. "My head hurts and my wife just left me."
"It'll be alright."
"No it won't. Mine did the same thing John's wife did. She took my combat pay too. It's all gone. That bitch spent it in less than six months, Staff Sergeant. How can she spend all that money in six months! Can someone tell me?"
"I can't tell you Lance Corporal. Stay still until Francis is done," said Marcus irate and agitated himself. "This heat gets to us all. Just chill!"
"No chance of that," came John's helpful voice.
"Don't help," said Marcus to John. "If you have nothing good to say ..."
"Come sit by me," said John patting the small space beside him. "Came from Steel Magnolias. Olympia Dukakkis said
that."
"You watched Steel Magnolias?" asked Jimmy looking at him from under Francis' arm.
"My wife wanted to see it. I watched it with her."
"What a nice husband you are."
"Was," said John without bitterness. "Was a good husband. She left me, remember?"
Marcus felt like screaming. The only reason he stayed calm came from his orders never to show weakness before his Marines. Always remaining above it all, as though his humanity existed not. Success in the Corps depended on a poker face, even if your thoughts meandered down a different avenue.
"How can we forget? You keep screeching it over and over again. Enough already!"
"I just got the new Staff Sergeant. Have a heart!"
"Maybe we should take him back to base Staff Sergeant?" offered John.
"To do what? Mope around?"
"Well, he could drive someone else crazy for a while," said John again laughing.
"You want to go back Lance Corporal? To Base," he added when he saw the boy's face.
"I thought you meant home Staff Sergeant."
"How many times I gotta tell you boy? There's no goin' home till your time's up."
"My wife ..." started Jimmy as Marcus cut him off.
"The Corps did not issue you a wife, Lance Corporal. Stop whining!"
"Bitch! She's cheatin' too."
As the men settled back down each with his own thoughts, Marcus breathed trying to slow his racing heart.
"Marcus, there is makeup on my pillow," said Faith looking up at his face.
"What?"
"Makeup on my pillow. You know it's not mine."
"What are you saying?"
"There is the makeup of a woman on my side of the bed Marcus is what I am saying. Was there a woman here in my home Marcus? In my bed? Did you bring a woman here to my bed?" she asked in her usual quiet.
Without missing a beat, "That must be Stewart," answered Marcus avoiding her eyes. "He needed a place to get it on and I loaned him the apartment for a night."
"You loaned a man our bed for a tryst, Marcus? Some other people slept in our bed? The one we share?"
"Why you making such a big deal about this?" he shouted. "I can't offer my friend the apartment for a night?"
"The least he could have done is wash the sheets," she said as she collected them herself.
"What's the big deal anyway? Why you make a big deal out of everything I do? Is there anything that I do that is right?"
"Marcus, I have been gone for two weeks. I hardly had time to criticize you."
"Yeah on some family emergency and you left me here."
"Yes. I needed to be with my Aunt Rose for two weeks. My Mother asked me to help out with her sister. Illness is not a choice here Marcus. This on the other hand, is disgusting."
As she collected the sheets and pillowcases to the washing machine, she failed to notice her nervous partner. She changed the subject.
"How is work?"
"Busy. Always busy. They never leave me alone. It comes from all sides. I get hammered all day from all around. Between the CO and the Captain who never stop asking me for things to do. Between the Marines and their demands, it is never ending."
Marcus wiped his face with both hands again.
"Staff Sergeant, do you think they would let me go home early?" asked Jimmy.
"How many times you gonna ask boy? I already told you. They will not let you go home early. They paid your ass to be here for six months and your tour's not up," said Marcus loud and exasperated.
"I just thought maybe if they knew my circumstances, they would maybe think maybe they would consider my situation..."
"Your situation as I see it is that you are a Lance Corporal in the United States Marine Corps paid and sent to Iraq to do your job and your duty," said Marcus condescending and interrupting the boy's litany.
"It'll be fine Jimmy," said Francis now. "Your head will be fine."
"You married Francis?" asked Jimmy.
"Nah, not married. Wish I was sometimes. Wish I had someone waiting for me at home."
"They not waiting Sergeant. They not waiting, haven't you heard nothing for the last few hours?"
"Not all marriages are like that. My parents were not like that."
"How so?" asked John. "They walk on water?"
"He went to war in Vietnam. Came back in 1970," said Francis.
"Did she wait for him?"
"Yeah, yeah she did. She also stayed by his side through the dreams, the nightmares and all of it," said Francis with emotion.
"He had that shit?" asked Jimmy. "Sorry Francis."
"No problem," said the Driver smiling at his injured mate. "Yes, he had PTSD, bad. In and out of hospitals. He was a mess."
"And she stayed through all that?" asked John now.
"Yeah she did. She's a Christian, you know. Forever and all that jazz," said Francis making light of his words. "Yeah, she stayed."
"They still together?"
"She died last year," said Francis.
"I'm sorry man," said Jimmy his mind off his own tragedy for a few minutes.
"It's my Dad who took it the worst. He misses her all the time. She was good to him," said Francis eyes watering. "She was good to all of us."
"A Good Woman Is Hard To Find," said John. "Morphine sing that."
"It's true too."
The four men nodded consent.
"How is your Dad now?" asked Jimmy, relentless.
"Not good. My Mom died of cancer which did not help," said Francis.
"Oh my good God!" said John. "No Rest For The Weary by the Blue Scholars."
"That must've been hard," said Marcus for the first time.
"It was Staff Sergeant. It was. My Father nursed her to the last moment. She did not want to go to the hospital. Wanted to die at home. Only thing she ever asked of him. He kept her there and would not allow anyone near her."
They got silent.
"Only people who came around were the church people, you know, with food and time," said Francis as though what he said was in everyone else's realm of experience.
Everyone nodded not sure what in the world he talked about. Those encounters so far removed from their lives, not even in the ball park. They refused to catch each others' eyes. But Jimmy, being Jimmy worried the bone further as he asked more of Francis.
"What you mean they brought food and all?"
"You know," said Francis. "They all knew my Dad couldn't cook a lick. Mom did all the cooking. Round the clock, they brought casseroles, groceries, cakes."
"He never left the house?"
"He never left her side," said Francis. "He said that while he was sick for years after the war, she sat with him during the sweats, during the nightmares, she held him." He shook his head. "Every time one of us suggested he leave her for the night and sleep in his own bed, he said he worried that she'd open her eyes and not find him there."
"That's some faithfulness," whispered John.
"Said he owed her. Owed her for staying by his side all those years when other women left. He understood."
Lost in their thoughts, the men looked down, each at his own hands, thoughtful and separate in the small compartment they shared for the day. As the heat never let up and as noontime came on, the scorching reached them on the inside. Four men sweating with fear, loneliness and their own needs.
That day he came in huffy and tired, he saw her standing by the entrance waiting for him.
"Where is the boy?" he asked.
"Sleeping," she whispered. "Marcus, we had a visitor today."
He lifted his head up as he threw his bag down by the door removing his boots as he stepped on the carpeting.
"What visitor?"
"A woman Marcus. A woman visited me today. Said her name was Amy."
"What? What did she say?"
"She wanted to know who I was," said Faith. "I said that I was the Mother of your son Marcus."
"I can't believe she was here."
"She was. She came in and wanted to see for herself."
"What are you talking about?"
"She wanted to see your son with her own eyes."
"She was near my son? You let her near my son? What did she do?" yelled Marcus.
"Do not yell at me Marcus. She looked at him over the crib side. She said he looked just like you."
Trapped now, Marcus almost in tears now, sped to his son's room looking at the precious child over the crib railing.
"Why did you let her near my son?"
"I did not let her near anything Marcus, you did," said Faith sad and tearful. "You brought another woman in our lives Marcus, not me."
He turned and walked out of his son's room and went to the dining table and sat down hands clasped together before him.
"So when I asked you what that makeup was, you lied to me. You yelled even that I asked. How did that lie come so easily to you Marcus?"
"I don't know what you mean?"
"I mean that she looked at me up and down as if wondering what you saw in me Marcus. She was like a painted doll. She dressed like a hussy. Nothing like me."
"Yes, nothing like you."
"So you do not deny it?"
"Would it do any good?"
"Not really."
"So what's the point?"
"She looked at my belly and asked if it was yours. I told her it was. She was surprised just as I was."
He said nothing.
"She told me that she met you on family night when I was gone and that you spent two weeks together here in my home."
Marcus looked at her with disgust.
"I have not had enough good times yet."
"Then why am I pregnant Marcus? Why did you not tell me this right away? We could have saved ourselves all the trouble."
"I did not know. When you were gone, I felt free for the first time in months. I liked it," came the harsh response.
"Then you should have let me know Marcus."
"With a kid and one on the way, I could say nothin'."
"I told you before we got together that you do not have to be with me Marcus."
"I know you did," he said rubbing his eyes trying to wake up from the nightmare.
"I told you that my Mother promised she would take care of me if I needed it and that we did not have to move in together."
"Stop telling me what you said. I know 'xactly what you said and what we agreed on."