The Letters

She screamed at him, "He can't be dead!" Tears poured down her face as she raised her hands to cover her mouth. Her voice came out muffled as she said, "No . . . he said he'd come back to me . . ."

Sergeant First Class Michael Bram waited and said nothing. He stood just outside the open front door of Julie Esposito's home in southern Georgia. In his outstretched right hand was a manila envelope with the name "Manuel Esposito" printed in large block letters. His left was occupied by an Army issue cane. He leaned on it slightly to relieve the pain in his right leg.

An older woman in her mid-sixties came into view behind Julie. Her hair hung in a braid to her waist and a faded blue dress covered her down to her ankles. She saw the man in uniform at her doorstep, Julie's agonized face and tears, and put it all together. She rushed to Julie, taking her in her arms and rocked back and forth. Julie dragged her down to the floor where she sat sobbing.

Michael continued to stand at attention. He wished she would take the letter so he could get on with it. His leg was starting to ache and his shoulder was beginning to cramp.

After a moment of the older woman holding Julie, she took the letter from his hand. Julie couldn't even look at him.

Finally. "Inside the letter you will find instructions on what to do," he said. Michael brought his right arm up in an exact salute. "The United States of America thanks you for your sacrifice and for the service of Manuel Esposito." He dropped his arm back to his side. "I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am."

Julie looked up at him, her eyes already red, voice filled with anger. "Liar!" she spat.

He did an about-face, as best he could with the cane, and tried to march purposefully towards his government-issued car. The ache in his leg turned into actual pain half-way there, so what he actually did was more of a stiff limp than a march.

Julie got up and shook off the older woman who was trying to calm her. "You're not sorry!" she yelled. "You don't even know him!" She took two steps towards him before the older woman latched on for all she was worth.

Her rage disappeared as suddenly as it came and she collapsed to the walk-way. This time her whole body shook and she began to wail. The older woman just sat close to her and held her. She looked at him with dry eyes, but the darkness in them seemed to move through him.

Michael opened the door and got in. He was glad this day was over.

***

"When's Daddy coming home?" Stephanie Grogan's six-year-old blue eyes looked up at her mother.

Eyes like her daddy. "Soon," Julie answered. She and Stephanie were out watering the bit of garden Paul had put in before he left on this latest deployment. That was nine months ago. The garden was supposed to include a fountain and terraced rows of carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, bell peppers and onions. All he'd had time for were the carrots and tomatoes.

"You always say that." Stephanie tipped her bright pink watering can over carefully, trying to only water the single tomato plant she had targeted for her attention.

"Well this time I really, really mean it." Julie was using the garden hose, holding her thumb partially over the opening to spray cool water over the carrots. She was looking forward to the time when Paul put in the sprinkler system.

"How do you know?" Stephanie said.

"I just do, sweetie."

The mail truck pulled up to their mailbox. Paul had hated the old wooden mailbox the house had come with, so he replaced it with a shiny new metal one. He said it looked more efficient. Sometimes she thought he was a little too obsessed over getting things to work "efficiently," but she was willing to go along with it if it made him happy.