scowls,
and I almost change my mind.
Yes, Ms. Patterson? What can I do
for you? His voice is flat, though
his blue glacier eyes seem curious
enough. I study his face, subtly creased
beneath a surferâs tan. He might
be handsome, if he could find a smile.
âI wonât be in class on Friday or Monday.â
I see. And where, if I might ask,
will you be? He taps his fingers
on the metal table top. Drumming
impatience. âIâm flying to Hawaii
on Thursday. Coleâuh, my boyfriendâ
is deploying to Afghanistan. Heâll be gone
seven months and . . .â Suddenly, it hits
me that Cole will spend the holidays
overseas. Again. Flimsy celebrations
this year. âItâs his fourth deployment.
Weâll have a few days to say good-bye.â
I see. His tone is not especially
sympathetic. Youâll miss a test, but
I suppose I can let you make it up.
âThank you, Mr. Clinger.â I saved
some ammunition, just in case.
Apparently, I donât need it, but Iâll
use it anyway, if only for punctuation.
âBy the way, Cole writes poetry.
I was wondering what you thought
about this.â I hold out the crinkled paper
like itâs a special gift, which it is.
He reads Coleâs poem, âThe Weight
of Silence.â Reads it twice, I think.
Finally comments, This is good.
âReally? I thought so, too.
Iâll tell him you saidââ
I wasnât finished. Iâm almost sorry
itâs this good. I hate to see talent
wasted, and, one way or another,
the military will squander it.
IâM AT A LOSS
How to respond? I want to say
something, but canât find words.
âI . . . um . . . donât . . .â He stares
intently, dissecting me with
those translucent, cool eyes.
Behind the frost, thereâs a story.
âIâm sorry. I donât understand
what you mean. Waste it, how?â
Now heâs searching for his own
words. Thatâs gratifying. Finally,
This is a military city. Teaching here,
Iâve seen a lot of what the service
can do. Not much of it is good.
People lose autonomy. Lose dreams.
Worst of all, they lose other people.
People who are important to them.
I nod, because itâs largely true. Still,
âI try not to think about losing him.
I know it could happen, sure. But if
I let myself worry, Iâd be wrecked
all the time. Cole was a Marine
when I met him. Thatâs who I fell in
love with. I have no way of divorcing
him from the Corps, so I cope.â
I understand. To a point, anyway.
I was an Army brat, so no divorce
was possible. My father dragged
us halfway around the world and
back. I never had real friends. Never
knew what it meant to set down
roots until after I came here. Once
I finally sprouted some, the taproot
grew deep. I doubt Iâll ever leave.
That turned out to be a problem
for my wife. Or, should I say, my
ex-wife. She was hot to travel.
Ah, the story behind the frost.
Two stories, actually, or maybe
a pair of epic poems. âSo far, Cole
has only been assigned to one PDS.â
Except for deployments, you
mean. Not like theyâd send families
chasing their soldiers into Iraq
or Afghanistan. With the coming
draw-down, who knows where
heâll go? Are you ready to follow
him wherever? Especially if you have
kids one day? Itâs worth thinking about.
The military is a highly engineered
machine. Itâs only as good as the sum
of its parts, however, and its parts
are fragile. But easily replaced.
Cole, fragile? Not so much.
But Iâm not about to argue
the point. âThanks, Mr. Clinger.
Guess thereâs a lot to consider.â
I START TO TURN AWAY
Ms. Patterson? Er . . . Ashley?
You forgot this. He offers me
Coleâs poem. Iâm sorry if I seemed
unsympathetic. This really is good.
Tell your boyfriend when heâs done
defending freedom, he