I ran to the porch. There was my Timmy, in his green Alpha uniform. He had slimmed down, but he was still an imposing monster of a man. I ran and launched myself into his arms, wrapping my legs around him. I didn’t even fully investigate his face. I was shortly pinned to this man by my husband, who hugged his lifelong best friend and wife. Tim wrapped the two of us into a bear hug with those tree trunks he called arms. After a moment and some prodding from our families, Mark and I relinquished our hold on Tim. As I looked up into his face, I felt a catch in my throat.
He had all his arms, legs, and digits, but starting above his left eye was a deep rutted scar. It ran down his cheek, crossed the outer edges of his lips, and traveled down his neck, disappearing into his uniform. His handsome face was scarred by war. Those eyes, those damn eyes, were still as bright and soulful as ever. I pressed my face into his chest, just below the heart I treasured, and cried.
Everyone came out and greeted Tim. It took a while, but we finally got him into the house. Drink orders were taken, and most of us got settled in the sitting room. I went off to help with the drinks. When I came back into the room, a beer in each hand, one for each of my boys, I handed Tim his and settled onto Mark’s lap as was my custom. I caught the unsettled look on Tim’s face, and for a moment, I felt ashamed. Part of me felt like I betrayed him, even though I knew I hadn’t. Tim had broken contact with me, and our relationship was never really defined, so there wasn’t any betrayal. The feeling was there, nonetheless.
The tension was building. Mark’s father began speaking, in hope of relieving the anxiety. He didn’t show it often, but he had a soft spot for Tim. He’d known Tim for as long as Mark had, and he knew of all the trials and misfortunes Tim had endured. His parents divorced when he was five. He struggled in school. He had a deadbeat dad. His mom passed. He lost his scholarship. And he was injured in Afghanistan. On several occasions, I overheard Mark’s father telling his wife, “If God only gives us what we can handle, I’d hate to see what that boy can’t handle.”
“So, Tim, how’s your recovery going? How have you been keeping yourself busy?”
“It’s good, Mr. Davis. PT sucks, but I’m making progress.” You always had to interpret Tim’s responses. He actually meant basically, it’s a living hell. A mere mortal would be crushed by the pain. The endless suffering has made me reassess my status as a confirmed atheist. But I won’t quit. I’m a Marine, and what doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger. I’m alive and making do. That is what my man was really saying. “And surfing.”
“Surfing?” I was a little surprised since he had never seemed interested in that before. I knew he was a great swimmer but never figured he’d want to be a beach bum.
He chuckled at me a little, “Yes, Brie. I needed a physical hobby, and one of the corpsmen suggested I try surfing.”
I could feel my jealousy surfacing; I knew those slutty Navy women liked to get their hands on big, strong, tough Marines.
“I suppose your ‘corpsman’ is cute too.” It slipped out before my filters kicked in.
“Well, I suppose he might be. He just isn’t my type, though.” Everyone laughed as my face reddened more.
“How did it happen? Where were you at? How many tours did you do?” It was Steven, Mark’s brother. We all knew he was anxious to hear the details. I guess we were all wondering.
“Steven!” His mother admonished him quickly.
“No, it’s okay, Mrs. Davis. You guys are like family. I don’t keep many secrets from you guys.”
“I hope you keep a few,” Mark added quickly.
“Me too,” I whispered to myself.
Tim laughed once again. His eyes sparkled as he responded, “I did two tours in Iraq and almost ten months in Afghanistan. That is where I got hit. We were providing security for an EOD team when we were ambushed. An RPG hit the Humvee I was squatting behind, and some of the vehicle’s shrapnel hit me on my left side.” He passed his right hand from his left eye and across his chest.”
“How bad is it?” Not sure why I asked, but it killed me to know that my Timmy was wounded and didn’t even let me know about that before he came home. I thought of all those hours he suffered alone, needing me.
“Not as bad as it could have been. My vision in the left eye was affected some but not enough for glasses. I lost some hearing in that ear as well. I also lost a chunk of muscle in the bicep and out of my chest. I’m not as strong as I used to be, but I’m good enough to paddle a surfboard.”
Steven Pointed out at Tim’s ribbons, “Is that a Purple Heart?”
“Yes. I’m told I got it for being bigger than the damn Humvee was.” Again, the group chuckled. We all imagined that monster trying to fit into a rolling tuna can.
“I recognize most of these from friends who served, but what is that one?” Steven was pointing at a red ribbon with a white outlined blue stripe in the center adorned with a bronzed V.
Tim looked down and then back up. “That’s the Bronze Star. It’s awarded for being stupid under fire. The V means I was extraordinarily stupid.” He looked at the group. It was apparent to all he didn’t want to talk about it. “I wasn’t going to leave my men exposed like that, and I guess someone thought I deserved a medal for it.” His eyes darkened with the memory; we all knew to drop the subject.
“So, what’s next for Tim Gallows?” That was my dad, the tax attorney. It’s all about dollars and cents for him.
“Well, Mr. Shields, I’m thinking of an apprenticeship as an ironworker. The union came to one of my separation classes and made it sound interesting. I start welding classes on base, in a transition program, and I hope to join the union in San Diego when I’m discharged.”
“Wow, Tim! That’s a very honorable and potentially profitable career. I wish you the best.”
“Thank you, Mr. Shields.”
Tim turned his attention to Mark’s hand, which was resting between my thighs. His eyes landed on the ring displayed on my left hand. “So, how did this happen?”
I was dreading this topic. I knew it was coming and that we needed to talk about it. I also knew in my heart that Mark and I didn’t betray Tim’s loyalty or trust. But that didn’t really matter. It was awkward.
“You know, we were in school together, and we still hung out and stuff. I needed a date to a sorority thing and didn’t want to go with anyone I didn’t know, so I asked Mark. He agreed.”
I stopped to take a sip of Mark’s beer. He was watching me, curious about how I would handle Tim’s question. We had talked about how we’d deal with it if Tim brought the topic up, most recently when we found out Tim was coming home but didn’t come to a decision.
“One thing just led to another,” I trailed off.
“I realized I would be a fool not to make this beautiful woman my wife, so I asked her to marry me after graduation. I wanted you to be there as my best man, but you never responded to my emails or letters. We were willing to delay everything until you got here, but Steven stepped in when we didn’t hear from you.” I could hear the aggravation in Mark’s voice. He really did want Tim to be there with us. I think he loved that big lug almost as much as I did.