Don't Make Plans

by Ava Armstrong

  His eyes traveled over his old homestead and he remembered looking out from the upper floors of the house at the white sand beach. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes as the aroma of the salt air became a tonic for his weary soul. The historical Victorian was about a block from the shore with mature landscaping and a wrought iron fence surrounding it. The carriage house was now a garage, but had a guest suite above it. That would be his bedroom for now. His father stepped out to greet him.

  Kent immediately got out of the wheelchair and stood on his prosthetic. He felt lucky to be able to stand. His left leg was gone from the knee down and he was still learning how to control his muscles to make everything seem…normal.

  “Hey, look at you!” His father said with a hint of pride, “Sheila, come out here – Kent is home.”

  “Hey, dad.”

  Kent thought the word home didn’t apply. He knew Sheila probably had the place redecorated and renovated again since he last stopped by. It was a showplace, not a home, to him. He remembered being scolded as a child if he ate cookies in the parlor. As a young boy, he was constantly reminded, the kitchen was the only place for food. But he took cookies into his bed with a cold glass of milk. Sheila would always rat him out to his father and he’d be punished. He could still remember the smug look on her face when he got his sentence handed down -- she seemed to enjoy the drama.

  “Kent, my darling boy!” Her voice grated on him. She could be so phony and sweet when his father was present. She wrapped her arms around his torso and kissed his cheek, leaving an imprint of indelible red lipstick there.

  “Your room is ready. We couldn’t wait to have you come home.”

  As usual, her make-up was done to perfection and not a hair was out of place, even though a strong ocean breeze was blowing through the porch screens, her hair stayed put. It was early Spring and the area was coming alive with tourists, having fun, on vacation.

  Kent forced a smile.

  “And, you look lovely, as always, Sheila.”

  “Oh, I’m getting older by the day! Let’s get you settled. Henri will take your things and put them in your room. Let’s sit on the porch and have iced tea. Would you like that, Kent?”

  “Yes, ma’am, thank you.”

  “None of that now. I’m your mama, as we used to say down south. Being in the service has changed you into a man. My, how you’ve grown.”

  Kent noticed there wasn’t a word said about his injuries or his prosthetic. Good. If she could ignore it, then maybe he could too, over time. He was worried about the sleep terrors, however, and hoped the nighttime medication would help tamp those down for now. Henri was a new face in the household. He was an older dude with a full head of snow white hair, probably sixty or so. Kent was sure Sheila kept him busy with her social schedule. Kent watched Henri whisk his gear away.

  “I think we should call your sisters and let them know you’re here.” His father pulled out his phone. Before Kent could say anything, his father had invited everyone for dinner. Oh no. He didn’t feel ready for all of this just yet. They’d ask questions he couldn’t answer.

  “They’ll be over. I’ve got the chef here tonight; he’s going to make a special meal for you. This is an important day, Kent. You’re out of rehab. You’re a new man.”

  Kent found it almost humorous, the way his father put a good spin on his war wounds and rehab. A new man. That part was true. But was he a better man? At the moment, he felt like an abject failure. But he pasted a smile on his face and shuffled around to a good seat on the porch and sat gracefully at the table.

  “Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve been on this porch.” Kent exhaled.

  “Are you comfortable, my dear?” Sheila asked.

  “Yes, very.”

  He watched her perfectly manicured claws as her hands poured iced tea. She added a sprig of mint. That was her southern side. It tasted good, the mint was refreshing. The ice had condensed on the glass and droplets trickled down past the V-neck in his shirt across his chest…just like that moment before his life changed. But, he took a deep breath and allowed himself to enjoy the refreshing feeling of cool water on his overheated skin. Rhode Island could get hot in the spring and summer, but not on the same scale as Iraq. He sometimes thought he could go into a furnace and still survive after living in that hellish place.

  “Sorry, son, to hear about Stan…” His father was staring at the horizon, sipping iced tea.

  “Yeah. I attended his funeral…it was huge.”

  “He was a good boy, Stan.” Dad almost allowed himself to show a trace of emotion, but quickly changed the subject.'

  “So, now that you’re out of that place, what are you going to do with your life? You need to make some plans.”

  Kent was not ready for that question. He’d learned the last couple of years, not to make plans. Or, at least have a plan B and plan C. His plans with April hadn’t worked out. The Marines hadn’t worked out. Maybe it was time to just go with whatever happened next. His father wouldn’t understand that line of thinking.

  Thankfully, his sisters arrived before he had to delve into his future plans with his father. Caterina, married to a medical doctor, and Cecelia, married to a real estate attorney, pulled into the driveway simultaneously. There was a flurry of hugs and greetings. Kent felt as if he was sitting on the porch with strangers for a moment. There was an awkward silence. His sisters were ten years older than he, and they were never close. His plan was to ask them a few questions. They loved to talk about their lives in Newport society, their children, their portfolios filled with the latest acquisition.

  “So, how have you been? What’s new? How old are the boys now?” Kent asked, glancing at each sister.

  His sisters and their husbands dominated the dinner table conversation, right on cue. Kent learned the boys were away at sailing camp. But, they had earned straight A’s in school. Eventually, their chattering petered out. Kent couldn’t help but notice the lovely sunset from the porch.

  “Well, don’t be a stranger.” Cecelia hugged him.

  “Yes, stay in touch.” Caterina touched his arm.

  Once they left, the silence became uneasy. His father was on the phone with a client. Sheila sat with him after going to the powder room, as she referred to it. When she returned, she perched in the corner of the porch and her eyes avoided him. Kent sat silently a few feet away from her facing the street.

  “Lots of tourists this year, eh?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m involved with the garden tours. You know how that can be. It’s exhausting gearing up during early Spring. But, I’ve met some nice people and invited quite a few to dinner. It’s a great way to get your father potential clients.”

  Sheila smiled but it looked artificial. Maybe it was the Botox, but her face seemed frozen sometimes.

  “You know, Sheila, I’m really exhausted. I think I’ll turn in, if you don’t mind. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Kent rose and steadied himself. Before leaving the porch, he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

  “Thanks for everything.”

  “You let Henri know if you need anything. He’s a good man.”

  “Yes, Sheila. Thank you. Dinner was awesome.”

  “Welcome home, Kent.”

  Everything was pristine and perfect in his room, but the feelings roiling through him that night were unsettling. April. What sort of guy did she marry? What was the house like that she lived in? Why did she break it off with him? What was he going to do with his life? He certainly didn’t want to live there in Newport, even though there were physical comforts, he felt like he didn’t belong there. His father had spoken at dinnertime about his real estate brokerage; he was doing well, especially with historical waterfront properties. His sister’s attorney-husband worked with dad. All of them had achieved a level of success Kent doubted he could ever match.

  The only way he’d ever find out what he was really made of, would be to strike out on his own. He needed to make his own mark. Why was
he spared while so many of his friends perished? Why did he live and Stan died? What was he saved for? Why was this war being fought with a surge, and suddenly all the power of the United States unplugged by an egomaniacal president, as if it wasn’t politically correct for them to even be there? Lots of questions with no answers.

  Thinking back on it all, the first thing he noticed when he got to San Diego was how everyone seemed oblivious to the fact there was even a war being waged in Iraq and Afghanistan. Yes, people viewed news clips of it, but they moved on with their lives, going to the movies, having dinner, getting married, giving birth to children. All the while, he was on the grinder, sweating, toiling, striving to be stronger, run faster, work harder. Thank goodness, he played football in high school. He, at least, had some point of reference to know what a workout consisted of. Many guys dropped out at basic training. He fingered the medals in the pocket of his duffle bag, and wondered what they were for? Did anyone really care? That was the bottom line.

  In the middle of the night, he woke sweating and screaming. His father rushed into his room and sat on the bed and tried to steady him with his hands. Kent pushed him away violently. Then, once he recognized his father, he stopped short. His eyes swept over his surroundings and he remembered where he was.

  “Are you okay, son?”

  “Sorry…that happens sometimes.”

  “Do you want a drink of water? Can I get you something?”

  “No. I’m okay, dad. I’ll just go to the bathroom…”

  Kent whipped the sheet back and his prosthetic wasn’t on. It was leaning against the wall next to the bed. He noticed the look of pity on his father’s face as he gazed upon his amputated left leg.

  “Let me help…”

  “No. Thanks. I’ve got this…” Kent pulled himself to the edge of the bed and hastily attached the prosthetic, then hauled himself to a standing position. It was the first time his father laid eyes on his injuries, at least the physical ones. Kent slept in boxers so he was certain his father saw all his wounds. His whole body was peppered with mangled flesh -- shrapnel wounds from the blast. Some healed better than others. It was a gory mess. Kent imagined if it sent a shiver down his father’s spine, and he was a decorated marine, how would a woman feel about looking at him now? He pushed the thought away and moved toward the bathroom.

  “I’m fine, dad, but thanks…”

  The rest of the night was filled with restless dreams and thoughts of April. She left him when he needed her most. He really believed she loved him. What a sucker he was. That was what hurt most -- the betrayal. If only she had been up front about it all from the start. She didn’t want to be with a marine. She couldn’t take the thought of him dying. She didn’t want to be alone. Anything would’ve been better than the way she did it. What was that saying about the best laid plans?

  CHAPTER 2

  In the morning, Kent tried to imagine April’s house. It had to be grand if she left him for this guy. The diamond ring was in the locked buffet drawer in the dining room where the silverware was kept. Henri told him he’d put it there for safekeeping. Kent sat on the porch and took a photo of the beautiful diamond ring with the sunlight gleaming on it. Perfect. He posted it on Craig’s List for a fraction of what he paid for it, but he needed the money. The ring no longer held any meaning for him. He slipped it back into the buffet in its hiding place.

  In the cab, Kent sat tall and exhaled. Through the window, he viewed the landscaped green lawns that looked like carpets, the flower gardens all competing for first place in the Flower Tour. He closed his eyes for a moment and enjoyed the fragrance of a warm spring morning, tulips and hyacinth.

  Kingstown was a short drive from Newport in a working-class locale. Once he spotted the house, Kent tapped the back of the driver’s seat.

  “There – number 249 – I’ll get out here. Wait for me down at the corner.”

  “It’s gonna cost ya.”

  “How much?”

  “Twenty…for ten minutes.”

  “All right. Give me ten minutes.”

  It was Saturday and Kent thought maybe April was out shopping or doing errands. So, this could be a very short trip. But, her Honda Accord was in the driveway. The house was an older place, a duplex, probably turn of the century, and in need of repair. The yard was small but filled with trees and surrounded by a hedge that made it seem somewhat private. As he rounded the corner, he noticed she was hanging laundry in the backyard on an old-fashioned metal fixture. For a moment, he felt like he was in a scene straight out of the 1950’s. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail and she had no idea he was standing there. When she finished hanging the sheets, she turned to pick up the basket and dropped it when she spotted him.

  * * *

  A shiver ran down April’s spine when she noticed Kent standing a few yards behind her in the seclusion of the backyard. How the hell did he find her and what did he want? She had heard about his tragic injuries in Iraq, but it was over between them. She was afraid to confront him. Rob, her husband, was working. She was alone – now in her yard with Kent McCabe staring directly at her.

  “Hi…Kent…I wasn’t expecting you.” April felt herself stammer.

  “I just wanted to tell you I survived it all…and to see how you’re doing.”

  She trembled as Kent moved closer. Why, oh why, was he doing this? She had given the ring to his parents with a perfectly good explanation. She never expected to see Kent McCabe again.

  “So, that’s it? You just wanted to say hi?”

  She found herself awash with guilt and self-loathing at that moment.

  “Thought maybe we could talk a little bit.”

  “No. Please, Kent. There really isn’t much to say…”

  April felt herself choking on the words. She couldn’t seem to speak as tears welled in her eyes. Kent looked so…broken and desolate. He had lost weight. His short haircut made his pale blue eyes even more noticeable. He was closer to her now and his large hand reached out and touched hers. She felt his warm fingers close around her hand.

  “I’m sorry things turned out the way they did, April.”

  “I never said this to you face-to-face, but I’m sorry, too, Kent.”

  “It’s what you wanted, right?”

  “Things happened…I didn’t want to be that girl who stepped out on her boyfriend.”

  “Fiancé.” Kent murmured. His eyes met hers. “It’s okay, April. Really. I hope you are happy with whatever his name is…”

  “Rob. His name is Rob.”

  “That’s a good name for him. He robbed you from me. I just hope you’re happy, April. I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

  She watched him turn away and walk toward the driveway.

  “Wait. Kent, I need to talk with you.”

  April had a hard time looking him in the eye. She noticed he stopped abruptly. He was angry, all right. It was probably a good thing Rob wasn’t home. She had no idea what might have happened. Kent didn’t sound like the guy she used to know. His tone was sarcastic and cut her to the bone. Her eyes traveled to the prosthetic just beneath his shorts. She was sure he went through hell. Many of her friends had kept in touch with him during the whole time. But she couldn’t bring herself to contact Kent, especially after breaking it off as she had. Then, the blast happened the next day. She’d blamed herself for the whole thing, somehow.

  The early morning sunlight played upon his dark hair as he turned toward her. He was just standing there, with his fists balled up. April walked to him and noticed the tears streaming down his face. Gazing at him, she felt her heart breaking. She threw her arms around him and felt him stiffen, as if he didn’t want her touching him. Without warning, she started sobbing and felt she couldn’t stop. Why did it have to be this way? It was all her fault. The guilt swallowed her and she felt she’d never forgive herself for what she did to Kent.

  Surprisingly, she felt his arms move around to her back and he gently pulled her face into his chest and comforted he
r, as he used to. She inhaled his familiar scent and noticed his chest was lean and muscled. April sensed raw emotion running through Kent and noticed his breathing ceased; then he heaved a long shuddering sigh. She knew he was fighting to regain composure.

  “I’m sorry about everything.” She whispered. “I’m pregnant and I’m having a girl. I got pregnant, Kent, and Rob married me because of the…situation.”

  Kent released her gently, but April couldn’t stop crying. Even after the sobbing stopped, she felt a warm stream of silent tears sliding down her cheeks. As Kent studied her, there was no emotion on his face any longer. She watched as the hardened warrior she once loved moved away. She felt his eyes linger for a moment, then he simply turned and walked. Her eyes followed him until he rounded the corner of the house. When she dashed to the front yard, she noticed Kent got into a car parked a distance away.

  April wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. So many memories flashed through her mind. Kent, before he left for Iraq. She had been so excited that day. And, he had kissed her over and over, telling her how much he loved her, and that he’d be back and they’d have a happy life together – forever. The ring cost him more than the car he used to drive. He’d spent everything on it – all his savings. He’d told her that nothing was too good for her. Oh god, how wrong he was. He was too good for her. She’d never told him that. Maybe she did today without words.

  * * *

  Seeing April had gone much differently than he’d expected. He had imagined calling her a few choice names and maybe punching the guy who stole her. But, once he saw her, his heart melted. What was he thinking? She was as beautiful as ever, probably more so, now that she was pregnant. Her beauty was radiant. It was over between them, but at least he felt at peace with it now. For some reason, he didn’t even mind paying the cab driver twenty bucks for the short wait.