Waiting for Her Soldier (9 page)

2:30 PM came sooner than I expected, but fortunately we’d made all our deliveries and our customers were extremely satisfied with both the service and the food. Back at the shop, Betsy and I calculated our profits, including the generous tips that had been given to us for working on the holiday. We’d taken in $4,760 in the course of one day, and after all our expenses, we came out with over $2,000 in profits.

My girls would all be paid overtime, but I gave each of them a crisp $100 bill to say an extra “thank you” for their hard work. They’d come through for me, sacrificing time with their families to come help me out on Thanksgiving. I wanted them to go home and have something to show for it.

“Go buy yourselves some champagne, ladies. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Lauren. You were awesome today.”

“Alright, now go home and see your families. We’re all taking tomorrow off.”

And with that Darren and I left the shop. In the car I turned to him again and squealed with delight.

“Can you believe it? All this money. Wow, this is like three times what we make in a normal day.”

“The girls were right, you were awesome in there. You’d never done any kind of catering before, and here you are on Thanksgiving and you absolutely killed it. I told you I knew you’d be successful.”

Darren smiled warmly at me and I returned the favor.

“We’re going to get some champagne, too. We’ll pick it up after we go to see your sister.”

“Damn. I forgot. I thought work was over, but it looks like it’s just about to start.”

“Oh, it won’t be that bad. We’ll stay for one drink, watch a little football, and then be out of there.”

“Alright. If you say so.”

Darren texted his sister to let her know we were on our way and about twenty minutes later we were pulling into the apartment complex.

“I think he’s in 208, but it could be 206. I don’t know, it’s been awhile,” said Darren as we walked up the stairs of the first building in the complex.

We rang to doorbell and Donnie answered, inviting us into the kitchen where Angie was cooking.

“Damn, Darren. Haven’t seen you in… I dunno how long. How’s the fucking Middle East?” asked Donnie loudly, slapping Darren on the back. He jarred Darren’s injured arm and I saw a slight grimace come to Darren’s face momentarily, but he didn’t say a single word about it.

“It’s still a hell hole. But we’re making progress. Angie, how are you kid?”

Darren’s sister came over and gave him a big hug. “Glad you’re home, bro. Are you going to be staying for dinner?”

“Oh, no, we just figured we’d come over for a drink or two then head back to Lauren’s. I’m still pretty exhausted from the surgery, so I want to go home and rest.”

“Oh, that’s too bad! We wish you could stay!” said his sister with exaggerated disappointment.

I knew Darren was lying. He was completely fine, he was just trying to be polite and avoid any sort of confrontation. I think Angie had some idea about how he felt about her boyfriend, but he was careful never to come out and say anything cruel about him directly.

“Yeah, I know. I wish I was feeling more active, let’s have us a few drinks though. Can you step away from the food for a bit?”

“Yes. I just put the turkey in the oven so I’m gonna take a break for a little while. Any good games on TV?”

“Lions are playing the Packers,” said Donnie. “Not the best, but not the worst either.”

“I like the way Rodgers plays, let’s turn that on,” said Darren.

We all headed into the living room where Donnie turned on his flat screen TV and surround sound system;
a pretty nice set up for a guy without a job
, I thought to myself.

It was just past 3 PM at this point. The game was at the start of the fourth quarter and the Packers were up 24-16, a closer game than I’d expected, having heard Darren talking about the matchup earlier as he watched the kick off at the shop. Darren and I decided we should stay until the end of the game and then head back to my place. That would be a nice, natural break that would allow us to politely take our leave.

I grabbed a seat next to Darren on the couch and Angie asked everyone what they wanted to drink.

“I’ll take a Jack and Diet Coke,” I said.

“What do you have for beer?”

“Donnie has some microbrews. But I knew you were coming so I picked up some Coors Light, too. Your favorite.”

“I dunno how you can drink that piss-water, man. Why don’t you drink a beer with some real flavor?” asked Donnie, half-jokingly, half-threateningly.

I could tell that he was already getting on Darren’s nerves; I could even feel him tense up next to be, so I put my hand on his arm.

“An ice-cold Coors would really hit the spot, right Darren?” I said, looking at him and telling him with my eyes that his best move was to just let it slide.

“Sure, yeah. Bring me a Coors, please. Thanks, sis.”

As soon as Darren took a sip of the cold beer I saw him loosen up. Actually, thinking about it now, it was the first beer he’d had since being back. His first couple of days he’d had to forgo all alcohol because of the medication he was taking to fight off potential infections. I’d felt so guilty as I sipped my nightly wine in front of him. But right now I could see that he was happy, sipping a beer and watching football. Noticing the stark contrast between those first few hours in the hospital and the present moment, I took a mental picture wanting to remember it for a long time to come. Finally, it seemed like things were completely normal again. Everything seemed good and right with the world.

The visit, as it turned out, was a relative success. The Lions scored a touchdown. Now down 24-22, they went for a two-point conversion to tie up the game at 24 with under two minutes left. The Packers had no time outs, so the Lions just had to stop them from driving down the field to take it to overtime. After three incomplete passes, the quarterback hit a man 30-yards down the field on fourth down. The receiver was tackled in bounds, so the team hustled to the line of scrimmage to spike the ball and set up their kicker for a 60 yard field goal.

With just five seconds left the two teams lined up. The center hiked the ball and the kicker got his kick off just in time, but the wind blew it wide right, sending the game into overtime. Angie got up to get us each a refill on drinks. Even though we’d planned on leaving after the 4th quarter, Darren didn’t want to miss the rest of the game, so we decided to extend our stay slightly.

This was when things took a turn for the worse. I didn’t realize quite how drunk Donnie was until part way through overtime. Before I knew it, Darren and Donnie were going at it. It started with a little bit of good-natured ribbing, but soon turned nasty.

“So, tough guy, how many civilians you blow up over in Afghanistan?” asked Donnie, sarcastically.

“Donnie, be quiet. Don’t talk to my brother like that,” said Angie, trying to be the mediator.

“No, really. It’s a valid question. You know these Army guys, can’t control their tempers. I hear it’s even worse with the Marines. Ain’t that the truth, Dare?”

I leaned into Darren, grabbing his arm, trying to pin him down, but knowing I was completely powerless to stop him if he got up to give Donnie the punch in the mouth he very obviously deserved.

“He’s not worth it, Darren,” I whispered into his ear. “Let’s just get out of here.”

We got up from the couch to leave. The game was still in overtime, but it didn’t matter. As we headed toward the door, Darren took a detour to where Donnie was lounging lazily in an easy chair. He grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up to face him, his face less than a foot away as he spoke these next words:

“A real soldier can control his temper. And you’re damn lucky that’s the case, because if I couldn’t, you’d be eating your Thanksgiving meal through a straw in the hospital.”

Then he walked out, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me along with him.

Angie followed us out and closed the door behind her.

“Darren, I’m sorry. He’s had a lot to drink today. That’s not who he is. He didn’t mean those things.”

“Angie, that’s a boy in there, not a man. I’ve held my tongue about him for as long as you two have been dating, but I’m not doing it anymore. He’s disrespectful of everyone he comes across and if you’re thinking about a life with him I think you’re setting yourself up for misery. You deserve better, and I’m not going to watch you settle for someone like that.”

“Darren, it’s not that easy. Everything isn’t just black and white.”

“I know it’s not, but this is: the kid is a dirtbag. And you better get him out of your life unless you want me out of it instead. Come on, Lauren, let’s get out of here.”

I smiled awkwardly at Angie, as if to apologize. In reality, I agreed with Darren. I’d never met Donnie before tonight, but I was shocked that someone could act that way towards a service member, especially one home from a recent deployment, and a seriously injured one at that.

Darren was hurt more than he was letting on. I remembered back to his letters when he said one of the toughest parts of being overseas was knowing that a lot of people back home didn’t appreciate the sacrifices he was making. For someone like Donnie to go after like Darren like that made me want to hit him myself.

He wasn’t a good person, and I knew Angie deserved better. I just hoped she had the strength to get out of this bad relationship before it was too late, both for her sake and Darren’s. I knew how much Angie meant to Darren. She was his kid sister, always tagging along with him in the neighborhood when we were much younger kids. Hopefully now she could see how she was hurting her brother. Darren was tough as a soldier, but he was vulnerable where it concerned the people he cared about. This was part of what made him such an exceptional man.

We got in the car and I was about to turn the key to start the engine when Darren grabbed my hand, holding it firmly as I turned my head to look into his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Thank you? For what?”

“For everything. For meeting me at the hospital, for letting me stay with you…”

“Darren…” I said. “It’s no problem. I wanted to do those things.”

“I know, but it’s more than that. If you hadn’t been back there with me, I would have lost my cool. I hate Donnie, but you bring out something good in me, a part of me I haven’t seen in a long, long time. You help keep me calm. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “I was proud of you in there.”

He turned to me and smiled, genuine and sweet. Ever was he handsome! I was ready to take him home and cook him the Thanksgiving he deserved. With just the two of us it would be alright. Now that I thought about it, I couldn’t see it unfolding any other way.

Back at my apartment I set to work making all the traditional dishes. I was putting the turkey in the oven quite late, which meant we’d be having a later Thanksgiving meal than most people, but I think Darren was ok with that. He seemed content to sit on the couch and watch the next football game. A classic, the Washington Redskins versus the Dallas Cowboys.