Under Normal Circumstances

Say It Like It Is

I leaned on the jeep door despite the rain and stared at the blackness flying by. I wrapped the collar of Slivko's shirt right under my nose where it could soak up my tears like it had soaked up his scent.

"Maybelle, would you come away from the window please?" Hank asked me. "Your situation will not improve if you catch a cold."

I turned to look at him with bloodshot dead eyes, but he merely chuckled. Nevertheless I leaned back in my seat away from the window cut out of the jeeps soft top.

"You're never gonna take that off, are you?" He asked with a grin, pinching the sleeve of Slivko's uniform. "Did you notice the right front pocket?"

I looked down and saw the upside down letters for 'Slivko'. I touched the embroidery, tracing each letter.

"Did I mention my wife was my high school sweetheart?" Hank asked me, a story waiting at the other end of my answer.

I shook my head and turned toward him in my seat.

"Well she was," he began his story with a wistful smile and a far away look.
"I was captain of the football team," he stated proudly. "And I had a letterman jacket- blue white, and gold. After Shirley and I started going steady, I gave it to her. She was always in it," he said fondly with glistening eyes.
He came back from his memories and went on.
"It was her coat in the winter, in the spring and fall she had the sleeves pushed up, and in the summer she wore it around her shoulders or around her tiny waist. And it made me so gosh darn happy, seeing how proudly she wore my name and my number, and that everyone could see she was my girl," he sighed, some of the mirth leaving his eyes. "I realize now how silly that sounds, her being 'mine'. But I suppose we like to say we own the things we love, even the people, because it makes them seem more permanent that way."

I liked listening to Hank. He was a marvel of perseverance and positivity in the face of overwhelming adversity and ill fate. And the way he talked about his wife was like no time had past at all, he was still like a high school sweetheart. It amazed me that his love could last even in complete absence for so very long. It gave me a sense of hope.

"I wonder if she got rid of my clothes," he mused to himself.

I looked at him from my cozy camo cocoon and sighed.
"After 28 years, she might have," I admitted. "But I bet she kept the letterman jacket. You know why?"

He looked at me expectantly with those bright eyes of his.

"Because I could get rid of anything else in my closet, but I'm never getting rid of this," I told him holding out my arms to indicate Slivko's jacket.

He smiled so broadly at this.

"Do you like that answer because Shirley and I are alike?" I inquired.

He didn't answer until after he'd taken a look out the window, the smile still plastered on his face.
"I like it because you know what I'm talking about. You have it too," he clarified.

I rolled my eyes.
"I don't have a high school sweetheart, Hank," I countered. "Remember, I've only known him five days."

"Oh right," he guffawed. "Is that why you're so tore up about saying goodbye? Is that why you gave him yet another kiss? Don't kid yourself, kid. The time doesn't matter, you got what you got."

"Got what you got? Got what my sister.. had?" I scoffed.

"Yeah, you do," he plainly stated. "Do yourself a favor and don't take too long to figure that out."

Hank and I fell into a comfortable silence for a while after that, snuggled down in the uncomfortable car seats with the cold rain dripping through the soft top. Hank was a cool guy, kind of like that insightful yet eccentric uncle that appears at family reunions. I felt very comfortable around him, and as he seemed willing to offer advice, I found myself willing to ask for it.

Hank and I made for an odd pair in a Singapore airport cafe. We sat opposite each other at a wrought iron patio table set, he still dressed in his world war 2 uniform and I in camo from head to thighs in Reles's cap and Slivko's oversized shirt. We stuffed our faces with chicken sandwiches and downed bottles of water, realizing we were dehydrated and it would only get worse on the plane. Our military escorts sat nearby, making sure we would get home alright. The military wouldn't fly us out seeing as they were getting ready to move operations back home in a few days time anyway. They found us seats on a commercial flight back home. Stacked by my seat was my suitcase, my bag, and the bag of Jack's things.

"So your sister showed up in your dream?" Hank asked around a mouthful.

I nodded as I licked my thumb and swallowed my bite. I had been telling Hank about the dream I had. I figured that since I couldn't talk about it with Slivko and when I got home no one would understand any of this. Hank was all I had for the next 16 or so hours, and honestly was the best candidate. So before I got home to Grace and Billy, Mom and Dad, I needed to do this for me.

"And?" He prodded me to go on.

I leaned back in the uncomfortable iron chair, white paint peeling off and floating to the floor.

"She said I was afraid something bad would happen to Slivko like something bad happened to Jack," I recounted.

"And is that true?" Hank pursued before taking another big bite.

"Yes," I answered before taking a bite myself.

"Why did your sister show up then? If you were just scared of something bad happening to Slivko, then something bad could have just happened to Slivko," Hank pointed out.

I chewed thoughtfully for a moment, stretching my legs in my soggy converse.
"I already did think Slivko and I- that we might have something special. But then it hit me that Grace had something special with Jack and look how that turned out. I thought how I'd feel if something bad happened to Slivko and how it must be so much worse for Grace and- I guess... that scared me."

"You're scared... that you have something that good?" Hank deciphered.

I scrunched my face in thought.
"I'm scared of the good part?"

"A common occurrence," Hank commented. "What else happened?"

"They kept asking if I was in love with Slivko and Grace kept saying it wasn't fair. That I couldn't love Slivko if I didn't bring Jack home."

"Oh, there we go," Hank crowed, wiping his mouth. "Guilt."

I waited for his further observance on this.

"Maybelle, do not blame yourself for Jack, there is literally nothing you could have done. And just because your sister lost the love of her life doesn't mean you don't deserve to have one," he stated.

"Easier said than done," I sighed, crossing my arms.

"I know it is, that's why I can say it," Hank commented as he leaned on the table, shifting it under his weight. "You're gonna have to figure out how to believe it on your own."

I let my limbs go limp and threw my head back.

"Thems the brakes, kid," Hank sighed sympathetically.

I lifted my head to look back at him, unimpressed, and noticed our escorts coming up to us.

"Ready to get home?" They asked us.