The sun felt warmer that morning for some reason. The Lieutenant couldn't quite put his finger on it but it was different. As he stretched out last night's cramps, all four hours of sleep, he did a quick head count to make sure all his men were present.
Kingston, Smokey, Williams, Hernandez, and so on down the enlisted paygrade scale. That's how the LT remembered everyone. It made things simple in a world that seemed to have it's own set of rules and even those seemed to change daily if not hourly. Lopez, McIntyre, Hauck.....Hauck....where is Hauck?
"Great", LT whispered, "probably a head call."
He spotted a semi-worn trail a few steps from where they camped and figured that it made sense for Hauck to use that. Easier to find your way back in this God forsaken jungle. Hopefully. LT grabbed his helmet, his M1 Garand and cautiously started making his way towards the path. LT wasn't new to country so he this was not the best of ideas for him or for Hauck. Being alone was always bad so LT knew this had to be resolved quickly. As he walked he heard what he thought was a waterfall in the distance and made his way there.
The sounds grew louder and reminded him of the swimming hole back at the farm. Swinging off the rope, the sensation of ice water over his skin, the huge splash and eruption of laughter he heard when he broke back through the surface of the water. Up until a few months ago, this was how LT and all his friends would spend their summers and it was these fond memories that temporarily erased some of the more gory recent images. While LT searched through the jungle for Hauck, ironically he noticed a little bounce to his step. As the waterfall came into view, a little grin even broke out. LT heard the sound of some others from the platoon headed this way and turned around to try and get a visual. It was then he felt it. More like LT heard it. The juicy sound of his last breath. The warm flood down his chest merely served as a visual aid to what had just happened. LT never saw his killer's eyes but as his fought to remain open, they locked with the cold stare coming from Hauck in the bush. The world faded as LT joined Hauck at the swimming hole, waiting for the others that would inevitably follow.
Coffee
As he made his way downstairs, he squinted to find the little, soft, green glow of the coffee pot clock. Thru the fuzziness of sleep he made out 5:07. It was dark outside and considering what he had been going through, he really didn't care if it was morning or night. Just the fact that he might have actually been asleep was starting to sink in while he tried to figure out what to do next but first he needed the can of Chock Full o' Nuts, the filters, and a full pot of cold fresh water.
Since he got that phone call on the way home from work, life had become ordinary. Or perhaps he simply realized how ordinary it had been all along. The company was understanding enough to let him take as much time as needed, with pay and benefits in tact, so some security was there. Day in, day out, one ordinary event after another that seemed to make life important. He thought he was doing it all the way it was supposed to be a la "The American Dream." He had been the high school and college valedictorian, married his high school sweetheart, the perfect house in the suburbs, a couple kids, the whole thing had been done EXACTLY as it was supposed to be done and then it happened. "Where did I go wrong," he kept asking over and over again, "and how can I fix it?"
His thoughts were interrupted by the hot water that began spilling over the top of the Kenmore coffee pot. "Another thing I can't do right," he mumbled, quickly yet carefully putting down the glass container. Using his other hand to turn on the cold, he soothed his most recent injury. When the sting was gone, which didn't take long, he filled the coffee machine.
First the water in the tank.
I poured my life into building our lives.
Then the filter in the basket.
I took every precaution.
Scoop after scoop of the coffee grounds.
One step after another, trying to make it better.
Flip the power on.
And like that its gone.
Re-reading the paperwork started giving him a headache he didn't need. The sounds of the coffee percolating echoed the angry and frustrated grunts that slipped out as the words dripped back into his consciousness. They provided some level of clarity on the situation, like someone coming out of a coma trying to catch-up and understand. Sometimes he read aloud so the house could hear that someone was still living there. With a final hiss, the remaining drops of liquid caffeine joined the larger contingent of their kind.
The light of the refrigerator made him pull back for a second so his eyes could adjust. The milk was still good, at least for couple more days, and there were some packs of either sugar or artificial sweetener lying on the counter. The mug felt familiar to him as he poured. The steam wafting up towards his face deposited the fragrance of the beans in his nostrils. The refrigerator bulb caught all the different color swirls the milk made. Cold mixing with hot, dark with light, bland with bitter, kind of like his life right now. The sugary grains altering the drink in it's own way, making it more bearable than it's original form. As he sipped he noticed the rings left on those wrinkled, well read forms of his current predicament. Circles that connected with no beginning or end.
He was going to recover. He would move on. But for right now this was all he could manage. He opened the backdoor, sat on the deck, and watched the sunrise.
He couldn't recall a cup of coffee ever tasting this good before.
No comments:
Post a Comment