The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters(25)
I don’t want to talk about this. How would they ever understand? What if somebody asks if I had to kill someone? Of course I did! We all did. What will my sister think if she learns I killed nearly a hundred men? She’ll probably be scared of me.
Morgan was sure he’d be watched like an animal in the zoo. The idea of the dinner grew uglier in his mind. He knew the family would all claim to understand what he was going through. His older uncles and aunts would offer advice. As the scenario played out in his mind, he knew at some point he would get annoyed, boil over, and explode, saying something cruel and hurtful to them all. He imagined himself storming out of the room, pounding up the stairs, slamming a few doors, and sitting on his bed missing Crimson. Morgan made a mental note to ask his mother to postpone the party until he was a little more adjusted.
Morgan also thought a phone call to his ex-girlfriend would be the customary and polite thing to do. The war had ripped them apart after a year of letters came from an evolving soldier who began to deny life existed elsewhere in the world in order to survive. Morgan wrote her regularly at first and she wrote him daily. A feeling of separation began growing inside him at boot camp and intensified with his deployment. The line that connected them became so thin it snapped as he came to the point where he didn’t know who she was anymore because he didn’t recognize himself.
The break happened early one morning on watch, long before the sun rose. He’d been staring at a tree for minutes, hypnotized by fatigue when he saw something move to his far left. As his heart pounded wildly and his muscles tensed, Morgan tried to catch his breath. Camouflaged by a neatly devised cover which left open enough space to see and shoot, Morgan studied the young face of the combatant creeping toward him. The young man jittered with fear. Knowing what he had to do, Morgan lifted his weapon, aimed and fired. The slug hit him in the mouth, collapsing his head and exploding it at the same time. Morgan froze. A mind shattering confusion rocked his entire being as he witnessed the death. His first kill. A part of him snapped and became disconnected from everything he believed about himself and the heavens. From that moment on, he began the process of tearing himself apart and putting the pieces back together again.
Morgan never wrote his girlfriend again. He dropped her unopened letters in odd places in ceremony, disregarding the life he’d known. The idea of the two situations existing simultaneously boggled his mind and enraged him. So, he forgot about it and accepted the fact he was involved in one of the strangest human activities imaginable—war.
Morgan looked at his watch to discover it was 5:10 a.m. Darkness covered the windows with no hint of a rising sun. After six hours of physical inactivity his body was ready to go. Not so sure about his mind, his thoughts slipped away to Crimson and a promise they’d made a year before in the jungle. The two had been away from cities, barracks, and alcohol for nearly two weeks. The friends missed alcohol almost as much as they missed home. Shaking hands, the two promised that their first day back in the United States would be one of record breaking alcohol consumption. Since Crimson didn’t make it, Morgan decided he would have to drink for two.
He tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen to search for the alcohol which would be his breakfast. The first place he checked was the cabinet over the magnet-covered fridge. Bingo! A half gallon of rum and a bottle of whiskey brightened his morning as he immediately turned his thoughts to a mixer. Quickly finding soda, his next task was to retrieve glasses and ice. Morgan filled two glasses with ice, one for Crimson and one for himself. Crimson’s favorite drink was rum and coke. Sitting down at the kitchen table with the two drinks in front of him, he didn’t waste any time and took a good long drink from both glasses, one after the other. A deep breath escaped his lungs as the rum ran down his throat.
Putting his hands behind his head, Morgan stretched, smiled, and let out an incredible sigh. It was a sigh of disbelief, awareness, new beginnings, and power. What will the world do with me now? I guess the real question is what will I do with the world? The last time Morgan had been in the United States he was nineteen years old. He’d graduated high school and was working in a warehouse when his country called. His life was pretty boring besides his girlfriend and his guitar, and he was certain they’d both be there on his return. And now he was back, years later with an uncertain future.
Remembering the drinks, he picked them up, one in each hand and made a toast to Crimson, wishing him well, wherever he was. Feeling his presence, he laughed as he lifted one drink to his mouth, and then the other. Morgan knew that wherever he was, Crimson was missing him just as much. Morgan knew one day their paths would cross again. If there is such a thing as soul mates, we were mates. Mates get separated at times, but they always reunite.
Finishing the two drinks, he looked at the whiskey and decided to have two more rum and cokes. The ice hadn’t had time to melt, and he played bartender again, refilling the two glasses. A tiny hint of a buzz began in his head and trickled all the way down his spine to the floor. Wiggling his feet and picking up the two glasses, he clinked them together again. “Cheers,” he said as he held the glasses up for the empty room. Morgan wondered what time his parents would be up and knew he’d be drunk.
Standing up, he walked to the window to admire God’s work as light filtered through the window and into his eyes. Gripping the cold porcelain sink a shiver moved his entire body as he heard Crimson’s laugh in his head. Crimson had laughed more than any person Morgan had ever met. He had the ability to find humor in just about any situation. He’d been clever as a master thief, yet honest as a monk. Hearing the laugh again, Morgan turned away from the window.