Panacea

by Brad Murray

  Jimmy smiled fondly at the memory, inspecting the empty bottle and wishing he could rewind time to return to that moment. It seemed Cooper had been in nearly every one of Jimmy’s thoughts over the past year; the little brother who had ventured off half a world away in search of glory and a higher calling. Jimmy’s eyes immediately found his brother’s graduation picture sitting prominently on the mantle above the fireplace. He yearned for Cooper to be with him now, to bring relief from the pain of depression and hopelessness that had come to grip him so firmly. But the emptiness he felt was only magnified by the realization that Coop wouldn’t be walking through that front door and making everything better.

  “Always look out for your brother, Bud. He looks up to you.”

  The blurred image of his father had once again crept into his mind; an image that had occurred more and more frequently ever since the day of Cooper’s accident. Over three months had passed, yet the pain was as sharp as ever. He cursed his father’s memory and heaved the empty whiskey bottle against the living room wall. The crash of glass echoed throughout the silent house and disrupted the stillness of the afternoon. Shards showered the oak sidetable near the stairs - the one Cooper had built as a sophomore in woodshop class.

  There were memories of him everywhere.

  After their father walked out of their lives, Jimmy took it upon himself to be the man of the house though he was not yet nine years old at the time. He became a sort of pseudo father figure to his brother, though Cooper resisted his guidance every step of the way. Cooper was bound and determined to leave his mark on the world, and to do it his own way. He had his mother’s stubbornness and therefore would only accept Jimmy’s orders if it was made clear that it was Cooper’s idea in the first place. The boys fought, as brothers do, which often spilled out into the front yard - their mother would whip the both of them if they fought indoors. Jimmy, being the older and physically stronger of the two, always came out on top…eventually. But Cooper was a fighter, in every sense of the word. He never gave up, never showed fear; those words weren’t in his vocabulary. As he went through high school, some would say he possessed a Napoleon Complex. Perhaps it was the fact he was short in stature, or maybe it was the incessant teasing in school about his absentee father that drove him. Whatever it was, one thing was certain about Cooper Porter; he was possessed by an inherent desire to constantly prove himself and he would stop at nothing to do so. This fact would prove to be both a blessing and a curse.

  Emma was not as much a part of the boys’ daily lives as she desired and felt pangs of guilt that she had missed a great deal of their growing up. She drudged through two jobs to make ends meet and therefore her time with the boys was limited. During the day she worked as an administrative assistant for a big-wig defense attorney in downtown Springfield. At night, she took on part-time waitressing work at a truck stop a few miles from home, tolerating years of countless dirty-minded truckers and their foul-mouthed advances only because they tipped well. She faced the dilemma of a single mother – spend more time with the boys but live on the teetering edge of homelessness, or work her ass off to provide them a proper life but be forced to miss out on it all. Emma chose the latter.

  Despite Andy having left the family high-and-dry, they were able to keep the house. A month after Andy left, Emma’s mortgage check was returned in the mail and a release of the lien followed a few days later. Confused, Emma called the mortgage company and was told the computer records showed the balance had been paid in full. She didn’t argue. They needed their home and the structure it provided, both literally and figuratively. Emma simply wouldn’t have been able to afford it on her own. Not even close. Hell, even when Andy was bringing home his salary, they were barely able to get by. She rationalized to herself that she and the boys deserved to catch a break, and if the bankers screwed up the account, so be it – call it a victory for the little guy. Regardless, she was certain they would one day realize their mistake and come banging on the door in search of their backdue money. So she put away as much cash as possible; scraped together a few dollars here, a few there. She was frugal and taught her boys to be the same. But she had resigned to herself that they would not go without. They might not be able to afford the expensive namebrand shoes nor be able to tout all the latest trendy gadgets and fashion fads like their friends, but the boys didn’t want for anything; not for anything important anyway.

  Ram remained living just down the dirt road. He took Andy’s disappearance as hard as anyone, and had it not been for his frequent presence in those early post-Andy days, Emma was certain the family might have completely fallen apart. Ram was always there when she needed him. He would take the boys off her hands when she broke down emotionally – which happened quite often early on. He was there to comfort her when she simply needed an adult to talk to. And when Emma was working one of her night shifts at the truck stop, Ram was there to watch over the boys.

  Over time, Emma was quite certain Ram had developed feelings for her. She picked up on his subtle signs. Shift work at the diner had provided Emma with a finely-tuned radar. She was a petite, attractive auburn-haired vision with stunning brown eyes that drove lonely truckers wild. Ram’s tell-tale sign was the look in his eyes when Emma was near; a sparkle he simply couldn’t mask. But through all the years he never acted on those feelings - never gave the smallest outward sign of his interest. He never even uttered an affectionate word. Yet it was clear to Emma he wanted more than friendship and that he took great pains to camouflage it. Emma surmised Ram would feel a tremendous amount of guilt associated with moving in on his best friend’s wife; even if it were Andy who chose to leave her in the first place.

  Truth be told, Emma thought of Ram as an older brother; someone she cared for deeply, but certainly not someone for whom she had whimsical romantic desires. And because of that, she preferred for Ram to keep his feelings to himself. She shuddered at the thought of him one day showing up on the doorstep with a bouquet of roses and blubbering on about his feelings for her. They would not be reciprocated. It would have absolutely wrecked her to have to break it to him; to see the crushing disappointment in his eyes after he had totally and completely put himself out there emotionally, only to realize it was all in vain. What would he do? How would he react? Would he pack up and move, leaving her and the boys alone to fend for themselves just as Andy had done? The thought alone was terrifying. She needed Ram. He was her rock.

  Through the years Emma and Ram had numerous conversations about Andy’s leaving. She had always tried to make sense of it; tried to rationalize how he could have possibly left her and the boys behind without so much as a goodbye. She was certain with all her being that Andy had loved her, and had cherished every second with the boys. And when he didn’t return that first night, she knew something was wrong. The worst possible scenarios filled her brain those first few days. Perhaps he had crashed his truck on some remote country road and had yet to be discovered. Or, perhaps he had been the victim of some horrible crime, his body buried in a secluded forest, never to be found again. In nearly every god-awful scenario she imagined, Andy was dead. It never crossed her mind that the truth could be much, much worse. Never did she imagine that her husband, the man she thought she knew inside and out, had simply run off, walked away from them all, never to look back. When his letter arrived, words cannot describe the gut-wrenching astonishment she felt. A piece of her heart died that day. She was completely and utterly devastated; hopeless and lost.

  But Emma, being the determined spirit that she was, eventually pulled herself up off the mat. She hired a private detective to track Andy down, under the guise of making him pay for his portion of child support. In truth, she simply yearned for answers. After a week, Emma ran out of funds and had nothing to show for it.

  “Your ex don’t wanna be found, Emma,” said the detective. “Probably completely changed his appearance and put together a whole new identification.”

  After that, Emma was determined to try and put
Andy behind her. But her aching heart and need to feel whole again wouldn’t allow it. For everywhere she went, Andy was there. She would hear his voice at the grocery store. See him walking into the diner. Smell his aftershave at the school play. When she would close her eyes to go to sleep, she would see him; and when she would awaken, for a moment she would think he was lying next to her. He filled her dreams and her thoughts and he never faded, even as years went by.

  Andy aside, she was hell-bent on making a good life for herself and, more importantly, for her boys. She put her full being into making it work; grinding through exhausting work days and immersing herself in keeping up with the boys’ school and sports activities. Needless to say, Emma slept little, and the wear and tear over time had begun to take its toll, diminishing her natural beauty.

  Shortly after 9/11 Cooper became fixated on the military and fantasized about defending America “from the terrorists.” It fit his fighter personality to a tee. He made Jimmy vow that they would enter basic training together as soon as Cooper was old enough. Jimmy agreed, though at first it was an empty promise – meaningless talk amongst boys.

  “I am my brother’s keeper,” Jimmy had told him.

  Jimmy assumed Cooper’s interests would change and the idea of entering the military would fade away. But it never did. Through middle school and high school, Cooper’s desire only grew stronger. He took every opportunity to remind Jimmy of the pledge. Each time, Jimmy would nod his head affirmatively to reassure his brother of his commitment. But Cooper sensed the hesitation - the traces of doubt that lived in his brother’s mind. Even to a boy it was clear that Jimmy was just going through the motions and wasn’t truly dedicated to the idea.

  Cooper was right; Jimmy didn’t have strong feelings either way about the military. In fact, he didn’t have strong feelings about much of anything. He had few passions, few things that truly inspired him. He did not excel in school, nor did he perform poorly. He had a core group of friends and a girlfriend here and there, but he would never be considered a candidate for homecoming king. He was no jock; but purely because of apathy rather than a lack of ability. In fact, if anything Jimmy was blessed with innate physical abilities. He frustrated many a coach with his unwillingness to participate. All in all, if you asked his teachers and fellow students, there was one word which best described Jimmy in his school years - and that word was “average.” He coasted through school, just another indistinguishable face in the crowd. And, with the exception of his never having missed a day of school in his life, he was discernible only by his complete lack for having accomplished anything noteworthy whatsoever. So, during his Senior year, when the time came for the guidance counselor to poke and prod him about his career path, Jimmy shrugged his shoulders and said “Army…I guess.”

  ***

  One October day during Jimmy’s senior year, the school gymnasium had transformed into a career fair, filled with booths showcasing overly enthusiastic representatives of every type of professional trade and vocation imaginable. For most of the Seniors, “Career Day” was an exciting symbol of independence; the beginning of the journey down the pathway of life’s choices. Most importantly, it was a welcome reminder that one day soon they would be out of the house, free from parental rule. For others like Jimmy, the day brought nothing but anxiety. He had no earthly idea what he was going to do after graduation. Even thinking about it made him feel uneasy. But with Guidance Counselor Hen Pecker’s insistence, he found himself face-to-face with those who “may shape his future.”

  One look at Margaret Monaghan and it was clear how she had obtained the “Hen Pecker” moniker. She was a tiny woman, barely five feet tall and a maybe hundred pounds soaking wet. Her entire wardrobe consisted of conservative print dresses, and the golden cross hanging from her necklace was always prominently displayed. She wore light-blue spectacles on the tip of her nose, tethered by a silver chain around her neck. And when she spoke, she overly enunciated, as if the power of her words would somehow make up for her small stature. As a result, her head bounced noticeably at each syllable, giving her the appearance of a pecking hen.

  She was good at her job really; pushing able yet directionless kids like Jimmy to think about the future as something beyond the next five minutes. She was an orderly woman; one who had a crystal clear vision of how things should go. And if things didn’t go to plan, there would be hell to pay. She was an aspiring socialite, and as a result was clearly biased towards those students whose last name carried weight in the community.

  Porter was not one of those names.

  She knew Jimmy’s story all too well; a boy whose tainted mother worked at that sleazy truck stop on the highway, and whose spineless father had left him and his pugnacious, bull-headed younger brother behind. From her point of view, Jimmy was beyond fortunate to have someone like her to help guide him, to prevent him from taking the same immoral path that his father had taken.

  Jimmy meandered from booth to booth, but maintained enough distance from the attendants to avoid eye contact and undesired conversation. “Career Day” was as much a marketing event as anything, with each booth carefully crafted to garner as much eye-catching attention as possible. Even the booth represented by a local accounting firm was made to seem exciting. Of course, it was strategically manned by two cute college coeds wearing tight button-down blouses. There were an inordinate amount of boys lined up at that particular booth, which annoyed Hen Pecker to no end. She shooed away those who had no interest in accounting and therefore no business in being there.

  Jimmy had made one complete cycle around the floor and, not surprisingly, found nothing that piqued his interest. He eyed the exit door and started towards it, but could not escape Hen Pecker’s watchful eye. Jimmy cringed as he felt her icy grip on his shoulder. He turned and saw her peering up at him thru the glasses resting on the end of her nose, fists on both hips, knees together and feet pointed outward like a duck’s.

  “Mr. Porter! You can’t leave! You haven’t even spoken to the Army yet.”

  She grabbed him by the arm, her spindly ice-cold fingers digging into his skin, and led him through the swarm of students across the gym floor to the Army booth. As they approached, Jimmy eyed the broad shouldered man in uniform who was busily attempting to hand out “Go Army” brochures to any and all who passed by.

  “Staff Sergeant Austen, this is the young man I was telling you about. He is very interested in the Army and would just love to talk with you about it.” Hen Pecker thrust Jimmy forward like a sacrificial lamb into the eagerly waiting grip of the Sergeant. Jimmy thought his hand was broken after the two shook. Hen Pecker, pleased with herself, shuffled off to force other introductions of student and prospective employer.

  “Good to meet you, son. Staff Sergeant Jack Austen. Name?” said the Sergeant, whose gray crew cut was so perfectly linear, Jimmy imagined he could use it as a straight-edge in woodshop class.

  “Uh…James, Jimmy Porter,” he replied, slightly intimidated by the uniform.

  “Well, nice to meet you Jimmy Porter.”

  Sergeant Austen jotted on his clipboard and handed Jimmy several pamphlets, as well as a few “Go Army” key chains and ink pens. Jimmy spent several minutes listening to the Sergeant’s well-rehearsed speech on the benefits of military service. He imagined himself in the uniform, and the swagger that it carried. He felt much more enamored by the idea of becoming a soldier than he had only a few minutes before.

  “Besides, the ladies love the uniform,” said the Sergeant on queue, nudging Jimmy with his elbow. “Son, just fill out this basic background information sheet and I’ll make sure you get one of these gen-u-ine Army tote bags. Not a bad deal, huh?” smiled the Sergeant.

  As Jimmy filled out the form, the Sergeant began his speech about the aptitude test and the physical that would be required for enlistment. He was slightly agitated when his flow was interrupted by his cellphone’s ringtone of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” He stared at the screen, perplexed.r />
  “Excuse me Jimmy, I need to take this.”

  The Sergeant flipped open the phone. “Staff Sergeant Austen. Yessir. He’s here right now. How did you know that he….yessir, hold one second.” The Sergeant grabbed the information sheet that Jimmy had just completed. “Yessir, I have it right here in front of me. I was about to go over the usual stuff with him - aptitude test, basic training, and…hold one second sir.”

  The Sergeant lowered the phone from his ear and nodded to Jimmy. “Sorry Jimmy, give me just a minute would ya?” He turned and walked to the back of the booth, keeping his back to Jimmy as he continued the conversation, now in hushed tones. After a few minutes, the Sergeant ended the call, placing his phone in his pocket. He returned to his position in front of Jimmy.

  His demeanor had changed, and changed abruptly. His brow furled and the corners of his lips turned down, all the while muttering under his breath. He began scurrying about the booth, hurriedly taking down the “Go Army” posters that had adorned the walls.

  “Sergeant Austen?” asked a bewildered Jimmy.

  The Sergeant went about clearing a table of pamphlets and packing them away in boxes, avoiding eye contact and ignoring Jimmy completely.

  “Sir? You were going to tell me about the enlistment requirements?” said Jimmy to the Sergeant’s back.

  The Sergeant paused. He placed the box he was carrying on the table and hastily pulled out a piece of paper from the top, shoving it in Jimmy’s face.

  “Here. Keep this. Don’t need it.”

  Jimmy grabbed the paper from his hand. It was the background questionnaire he had completed a few minutes earlier.