“I gave you mother the day off. She’s at my house with your bathing suits. I have a tropical and lap pool. If you tire of that, most of the second floor is full of games that you might enjoy. It won’t be long before we get home. Once we do, either before or after gaming and swimming, I will give the two of you a chance to ask me any question you want about your father, the type of man he was, and what we did.”
They look at me like I’m a big deal. My jaw drops.
Kelly says to me, “Mom told us everything. You did not kill my father. Bad people did. She told us the type of work he did and why it was important to him. I want to hear only the good and funny stories; that’s how I choose to remember my father. Mom’s right; you need to forgive yourself unless you shot him. You didn’t shoot him, did you?”
I sit stunned, “No.”
Michael says, “Can we see the game room first?”
I laugh at him, “Sorry, Michael, your mother outranks me in that area. If she says yes, then no problem.”
+++++
As we pull up to the house, Phyllis, Juanita, and Juanita’s children are waiting for us. All four children already know each other well.
After checking with Phyllis, I take them all up to the second floor.
Every light and game are already turned on. Music is playing, and … the children all run off. Juanita and Phyllis run to go bowling. There is a wall of bowling balls and shoes. Four shoes of ever men’s and women’s size.
At the end of the room are a few recliners for parents watching children. That’s my destination. My nerves are frayed from the emotional day. I’m sapped of all energy. I may even fall asleep. That is not in store for me today. Michael is making his way to me.
“Can you show me how to play that game with all the handles,” says the shy child?
I grunt as I get up. My bones ache today. Michael and I play Foosball. I got suckered; he knew how to play and was very skilled. The little shit beat me four straight times before Kelly saved me. She takes me by the hand and drags me back to the recliner. I sit down, and then she sits on the armrest with her legs over my lap.
All my alarms go off in my head; I know she isn’t eighteen. She laughs at me.
With a giggle, “My, you are so easy to read. I won’t do anything … yet; I need to be eighteen. I’ll make you a deal. You tell me a funny story about my dad that I don’t know, and I will tell you a story you don’t know. That means no ‘One shoe Daddy’ story.”
I sit and think of a story I CAN tell her. There are so many.
I ask her, “Did you know your father was a poet?”
She looks at me with astonishment in her eyes.
Instead of thinking it, I say, “Should I be telling her this story?”
Realizing my mistake and her eagerness, I start my story, “This is all the way back in boot camp.
We’re all eighteen, straight out of high school, and I just met your father the day before. We soon become fast friends. In Basic, we do a lot of marching and running to fatigue our bodies.
They break us down and then build us up with their control, attempting to make copies of the perfect soldier.
“While marching the very long distances, the commander would break out into a song. I’m sure you’ve heard them in movies. They punctuate several words, slur words, and it’s got a memorable beat that rhymes. It’s usually about how great we are or how bad our enemies will be defeated. The line then gets repeated by the whole group.
It helps us get used to barking out orders while physically under stress.
“Mile after mile after mile, day after day, they soon become annoying. They only know a few songs. Imagine listening to just three songs on the radio. I remember the day vividly still. It was a Friday afternoon. It’s raining, we’re cold, and the whole day has been running and marching. We’re miserable and tired. We ate a soggy lunch, and that about broke us.”
I’m smiling now, “So, here we are. The rain is as hard as it’s been in weeks; we’re miserable, marching through a soggy field with long grass. Visibility is diminished, our paper maps are long gone, and our commander is even looking glum. Perfect time for him to start a song. He fails. I know he just failed us. I look at your father. He smiles, and we quickly move to the front of the group.
“Your dad knows I will get us home. He does his part. He starts a song we all know so fucking well. He shouts out the line. We all start to reply and stop. What the hell did he just say? The correct line is ‘I don’t know, but it’s been said.’ Follow Me is the most basic Navy Marching Cadence. Yet your father says, ‘She don’t know, but It’s been saidddd.’
“They all repeat the words. Next is not, ‘Air force wings are made of lead.’ Oh no, not your dad, ‘Pretty woman gonna give me headdddd.’ The rest of the song gets much more graphic. Sorry, I can still hear the song, but it is wayyyy to sexual for you two. Just know, it was epic.
“From that day, your dad and I were always together. I did get us home. We made double time because of the renewed energy, and we’re first back to base. That night I got my first promotion. Our commander was not as inept as we suspected. He had a hunch about us, and he was testing me.”
As I look up from my story, nobody is playing games. Everyone has a tear in their eye and is hanging on every word. The two smaller children go back to playing with the games.
Both mothers, Kelly, and Michael stay to hear as I end up telling three stories about each husband. When I am done, both Jane and Vickie are standing next to a mother.
Kelly hugs me and kisses me on the cheek. She looks shy as she lowers herself to my lap.
Kelly looks up at me, “I owe you a story now. It was my eighth birthday. Daddy came into my room and tucked me in, which was expected. He then sits on the edge of the bed. This is new; it’s been years since he read to me at night. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this is when you all became more active overseas. I also later found out, mom, and Michael got the same talk.
“Daddy tells me precisely what he does, how dangerous it is, and then spends a lot of time explaining why it’s important to him. His father and grandfather served in wars, WW II, and Vietnam. More important to him was making the world better and safer for his family and every other family worldwide, not just the USA.
“He then breaks my heart when he tells me that he will most likely get killed at some point. I’m crying like a baby. He wipes my tears away and then tells me that his team’s work is that important. You stop very bad men from hurting the world or becoming powerful. He made me make some promises. One. I wasn’t to mourn him. He did what he knew was right. He knew the risks and stopping evil was important enough that it would be OK.”
She has tears flowing down her face as she continues, “He assured me that he would try to avoid death; he was in no rush and wanted to walk me down the aisle. Two. I would support mom if anything happened to him. She would be hit hard, but she would be OK. In the end, mom, Michael, and I were the reasons he did what he did. He wanted to keep us safe.