One Beau
She leaned her head against the cool wall. Everything and everyone buzzed around her; but for a moment, she let the coolness mute the noise. She could feel it embrace the racing world inside her head, offering comfort. A warm hand ended the silence as she turned around to her boss.
“You better get back out there,” Dan Wimberton rumbled. He wiped his greasy hands on the already stained apron wrapped around his wide stomach. His bushy, gray eyebrows rose up at her, as if challenging her. He crossed his tattoo-littered arms over his barrel chest. His voice became louder, “Did you hear me? Get. Back. Out. There… Now.”
She gave him a quick nod and went back to work. It was a busy day, which she normally met head on, but today was different. She anxiously put a hand to her stomach. What will he think?, popped in her head. She hadn’t heard from him in weeks. His last letter came from around Laos. That was sixteen days ago. She had written to him about the unexpected surprise and had no idea if he had received the news. It made her skin crawl not knowing.
The front door bell signaled another customer. She brushed past him, mumbling, “Be right there, sir. Go ahead and take an empty seat, if you can find one.”
“Sure thing, ma’am.” His voice stopped her. Cold beads of sweat broke out on her brow. Her hands shook, the coffee pot threatening to spill in her left hand. She turned slowly towards him. It’s him. It has to be him chanted her mind.
She couldn’t help but stare. Her mind raced to the first day they met. She felt her eyes close, the past sweeping her into welcoming darkness.
When he first entered the diner, she actually gasped. Then she blushed and hurried herself by pouring coffee. In between cups, she glanced at him. He was breathtakingly handsome. A defined, square jaw with a hint of a 5 o’clock shadow. Piercing blue eyes that were offset by his dark, sable hair. A pointed nose with a small crook in it, as if he was in a scuffle once. When he had smiled, she was sure the world had stopped. His front tooth had a small chip in it, but his genuine smile offered warmth she had never felt. She knew he was a soldier, aside from his uniform and the bags he carried. He had the confidence of a new one, the ones who thought they were invincible and loved challenges. He casually took a seat in an empty booth, placing his bags opposite of him.
Conveniently, he had sat in her section. She smoothed her apron before she greeted him. Walking gracefully, she lifted the carafe and said, “Excuse me, sir. Would you like some coffee?”
He looked up with a huge grin, knowing he caught her off guard. With a swift nod, eyes never straying hers, he said, “’Course ma’am.”
It took every fiber in her being to pour the coffee without spilling it. “Would you like anything with your coffee?” she asked carefully, praying silently he wouldn’t hear the waver in her voice.
“Actually, ma’am,” he started, leaning forward, “If I don’t seem too forward, I would like to talk to you some. Now I’m sure you have a boyfriend, but you see, I’m about to leave town and frankly, I don’t have anyone to talk to. I leave in a week and haven’t got anyone to write.” He paused hesitantly.
She bit her lip and glanced at the clock. “Tell you what, I’m off in about an hour. There’s a pier right down the street. We’ll go there.”
He gave her another breathtaking smile and she all but skipped off to her other customers.
“Ma’am?”
Light blinded her. Her mind ripped her precious memories away, making her wince. She blinked a few times and noticed the soldier staring at her.
“I-I’m so sorry, sir. You look like someone I know,” she apologized.
He chuckled. “You have no idea how often I get that. Must be the uniform thing.”
She gave a sheepish smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Must be.”
The rest of the day she busied herself with other customers, taking and delivering orders, refilling the coffee pot, and bantering with the short-order cooks. On the outside, she was a bubbly girl of eighteen. On the inside, she was breaking down.
The day seemed to drag and by the time she was home, she stumbled into her room in a state of pure exhaustion, physically and emotionally. Her double bed welcomed her, beckoning her with down feather blanket and pillows. Without showering, she fell into bed, allowing darkness to take her once more in a warm embrace.
Her dream began where her daydream had abruptly ended. He was still sitting in the booth, smiling at her while she walked away. Her day at work sped by, fortunately. Before she went to meet him at the pier, she took a quick glance in the mirror, only pausing to fix the white bow tied in her low ponytail.
He was already there, waiting on her, when she arrived. Her heart raced and a smile tugged at her full lips. His bags were beside him as he sat on the edge, letting his feet dangle over the river. She walked up, sat next to him, and spent the next few hours lost in conversation, ranging from childhood to dreams. The afternoon faded into dusk and they were still consumed with each other, wanting to know more. He asked her to dinner and they walked to a nearby restaurant, her hand in his. Dusk blurred into the late night with a full moon accompanied by stars, blinking against the black backdrop. They found themselves idling on the boardwalk, not wanting to separate, when he kissed her.
It was the shortest, simplest and sweetest kiss she ever had, yet it was so profound that she could recall the exact memory in an instant. She could remember the way he smelled, the way he looked, the way a breeze had caused them to move closer, the way he brought her hand to his chest when he leaned in.
With that, she woke. Her heart was hammering as she got up for water. She sat at her kitchen table rolling the cool glass between her hands, remembering the kiss. The kiss, she thought. She sighed and felt her eyes close again, recalling the rest of that fateful week.
They had seen each other every day. He managed to come to the diner every day and on her breaks they would sit outside, holding hands and heads close. She knew she was falling for him, as was the same for him. They embraced at any moment they could and stole quick kisses while she was working. He spoke of their future often, filling her with hope of the day he would return. She floated along that week, happiness filling her up. The heavy sense of dread weighed in the back of her mind, counting the days until he had to leave. She tried to live in the present with him, but inevitably, she knew the day would come.
The night before he left, she spent the last hours in his arms. He was tender as he kissed her, slowly untying the white ribbon from her hair. She then gave herself wholly to him. She knew he would be the only man she would truly love, the only man she would want to hold hands and dream of the future with. Her heart was now in his possession, and he guarded it protectively.
The next morning was cruel to her. She saw him to the bus station with a heavy heart. They held each other until he was called onto the bus. It was then that he turned to her and presented her with a strip of cloth from his favorite shirt. He tied it into her hair, replacing her white ribbon with the red strip. He tied it into a bow in her pony tail. Tears pooled in her eyes as he kissed her, just as he had the first time. He whispered in her ear, “I’ll always write you. I’ll always miss you. But most of all, I’ll always love you.”
Tears streamed from her eyes as she fought for her breath. Even now, as she sat alone in her kitchen, the memories seemed like yesterday. But it wasn’t yesterday, it had been months. He did as he promised, writing her every opportunity he had, but now weeks had gone by without word. She knew he had made the trek to California then to Laos. Every time he wrote her, he spoke of his love and his fears. In his last letter to her, he illustrated the life he planned for them, including a ring of her left finger. Her breath went ragged and all she could do was laugh, smile and cry when she read the last letter he had sent her:
“My love,
I cannot wait to make you mine forever, Abigail Marks. I dream of you every moment. I know together we can be great, for without you I am nothing. As soon as I return, I will have a ring on your hand and I will pledge my life to you, in person. I know time is treating us maliciously as we are apart, but I am willing to accept this torture knowing one day I’ll rest in your arms again.
To me, you are the shade of the trees I lean against. I feel you in the wind, offering me a moment of peace in this war-filled hell. I see you in the moon, as if you are watching over me while I sleep. You are the stars that guide me to safety, and you are the blanket that keeps me warm on these cold nights. I hear your whispers in the whistling of the bullets, telling me when to move. You are everything to me, Abigail.
As soon as I can, I will race home to you, I promise. I will sweep you off your feet and cover you in kisses until you beg me to stop. Even then I might not. My fears are always calmed at the thought of you, love. I count the seconds until I’m with you again.
I always write you, I always miss you. But most of all, I always love you.”
She knew it was dangerous where he was, but deep down she knew he would return to her. He was brave and he was hers, nothing could take that away. Fear still lingered over her, reminding her of the unexpected news she carried. Clasping her hands over her slowly swelling stomach, she sighed. She knew he would be happy and they would marry as soon as he returned. You know he isn’t able to write at times, she thought, He could go weeks without writing. Doesn’t mean anything bad happened. She let reason soothe her as emotion took a backseat.
She looked at the clock and sighed. It was already three o’clock in the morning and she had to attend her brother’s baseball game the next afternoon. Shakily, she stood and made her way to the bedroom, where this time she fell into a dreamless state filled with gray shadows. Hours trickled by until the sun filled her rooms with slanted rays. She woke to swollen eyes and a bad taste in her mouth, as she stumbled to her bathroom.
The morning swiftly changed into the afternoon as she found herself in the stands. The sun was relentless, bombarding the fans without sign of letting up. There were no clouds to offer shade, the wind stood still. She excused herself at one point to find refuge underneath the stands. In between the fifth and sixth innings, the announcer lifted up his microphone.
He began to recite the Lord’s Prayer, the crowd murmuring with him. Abigail knew what was coming, as she mouthed wordlessly along. She was wringing her hands and pacing, waiting for the moment when he began to read the list.
A moment of silence hung in the air like a dark, heavy cloud. The announcer cleared his throat. Time stopped. She felt something shift inside her. The old man raised the microphone to his lips, “And now, a list of the local Vietnam dead.”
Abigail was sure the earth stopped rotating. She could feel herself floating as the announcer went down the list. He stopped after each name read, giving each soldier a moment of silence. Sweat ran down her spine, causing her to shiver in the July heat. The crowd was growing restless, as mothers were fanning themselves and praying their son’s name would not be announced. A few heart-wrenching cries broke the uneasy silence as parents realized a child would not return home to them.
She went down on her knees in a fervent prayer. Seconds ticked by as names of unknown soldiers were read. Her heart was racing, knowing that the list was in alphabetical order, and that her soldier’s name could, but wouldn’t be next. She held her breath. She felt nothing. She had fallen numb. Her hands, cold and clammy, were tightly clasped while her lips religiously whispered in prayer. She felt her heart beat, each single one. Each beat went with each name of a dead soldier.
“Williams, Beau.”
It was then that her heart didn’t beat. Abigail fell to the ground in such despair that tears did not grace her with their presence. It was a pain she had never felt before. Pain that went straight to her soul and, without mercy, ravaged it. She felt her heart being ripped, inch by inch, with grief that showed her no mercy. Darkness swallowed her, but not the darkness she knew before. This darkness was pure evil, forcing her to recall the past and imagine a future where Beau didn’t exist. Abigail fought for air, but the darkness sucked it out of her lungs. When she didn’t want to breathe anymore, the darkness forced her lungs to drink in the hot air. She reached for the only present he gave her, the red ribbon. She felt along the fabric, feeling him. Tears fled from her eyes as a wail, a deafening scream of torture, escaped from her lips. It startled the crowd, as whispers of a possible murder stirred.
She held the red ribbon in her cold hands. Turning it over, she saw where he had written, “I’ll always love you”. She held it to her heart and let out another blood curdling scream. Her mind lost all reason as pure emotion racked her body. Losing all hope of life, Abigail closed her eyes, begging for an end. Grasping the red ribbon between her fingers, she whispered, “My only Beau.”
