Immortal Links

It was time. It was time for her to take her hand off the wheel and open the door. It was time to get her feet to move. It was time to take that first step, to feel the solid sidewalk under her heels. She could feel her hand tremble as she touched the door handle. She pulled away suddenly and turned back to look straight down the street. It was a beautiful place. A suburban neighborhood with all the charm of the American dream. She could tell some of the neighbors spent almost too much time on their yard. The grass was well manicured in very neat lines, flowers were blooming in neat rows, and the bushes were well managed and trimmed to perfection. It was frustrating because she knew she could never match it. The sight couldn’t help but make her see the contrast between the beauty outside and the chaos of what she saw in her head. A tear flowed down her cheek. She hastily brushed the tear away and brought down the mirror on the sun visor to take a look at herself. She didn’t like what she saw. Then the tears came out unwanted. She breathed in deeply, in and out several times. A less than successful attempt at calming her heart, but the tears…the tears did stop. 

She was worried—Worried about what the man in this house would think of her. She looked through the side window at the house she was parked in front of. It was a very plain house, a bit different from the rest of the neighborhood, extraordinarily simple but well kept. There were only two bushes in front of the door flanking either side of the walkway. It looked like there had been some plans at one point to continue with more, based on the landscaping and the empty flower beds. Obviously something had been planned, but abandoned. 

Maybe he was busy. Maybe she would be interrupting something important. She realized her hands were gripping the steering wheel a bit aggressively. She forced herself to relax. She was overthinking this. She needed to step out of the car and go knock on that door. 

She took a deep breath, placed her hand on the car door handle, and pushed the door open. Then the thought came to her and she mumbled, “What if he’s not there?” She reached out quickly and shut the door. She had had the thought before, on the way to the house, but had pushed it aside. She had rushed out to this house without a plan when she found out where he lived. 

What would he think of how she looked? What should she do when she saw him? Should she hug him, should she go for the handshake, what if they got to talking and he invited her in…oh no! What if that led to something else? Her mind was racing. She could feel some heat rise into her cheeks, but it was a welcome distraction from the unpleasant thoughts. Today was a hope she had played in her head a thousand times, but had not really immagined possible.

She reached over for the car door handle once again. This time—determined. Once she stepped out, she wasn’t coming back without knocking on that door. She stepped out and made it about four steps before she stopped, remembering that the car door was still open, swiveled around and quickly went back to close it. She shoved it with a bit of an attitude. The sound that came from the car door seemed unnaturally loud. It even seemed like it came from behind her too. 

Then she heard the wailing.

She found herself shaking next to the car, and she cursed her stupid legs that felt like jelly. She was sorely tempted to reopen the car door and take off, but she was too curious to just run away. Too curious to know why someone nearby was in pain. Hesitatingly, she turned her head towards the noise.

There was a man. He walked slowly, head held low, looking fervently at something metallic in his hands. His eyes were fixed. He stumbled forward. Each step seemed to take great effort. His face was scrunched up in agony, flushed, and looked terrible. Transitioning onto the grass made him fall to one knee. “Why should I keep trying?” He paused for a moment then he reached for the pistol that had fallen out of his grip.

Even though she was terrified—even though she didn’t know what was going to happen—even though she had no idea what to say, she ran to him.

“Lucas!”

She stomped her foot on the pistol and she put out her hand. “Get up sergeant!”

He looked at her puzzled, but not afraid. “I don’t deserve that title, who are you?” He said, but without raising a hand.

“We met a long time ago and you’re my hero,”—the words felt flat. She would need to add something more. “I’m from Afghanistan.” All her ideas of how this moment would go were quickly falling apart.

“Oh, God! Did I kill your family?” Now a stream of tears was coming down his face as he pleaded. “Please, just end it. Please just give me the ol’ one, two and I can be rid of the pain in my head that reaches down to my heart and churns my stomach.”

“No, no, no, you didn’t kill my family. You saved me! I would be a part of some sheik's sex slave ring if it wasn’t for you.” Her mind was beginning to gain traction and find a new path forward. “Take my hand. You don’t belong on your knees here in the grass. Let’s get you cleaned up inside.” Lucas finally did reach up and stood, even though he was a bit shaky.

“I saved you?”

“I’ll tell you all about it,” she stooped down to pick the pistol off the ground, she hesitated for a moment as she examined the pistol very closely before sliding the firearm into her waistband next to her own concealed pistol. She then took his arm and put it across her shoulders—guiding him back into the house. “You couldn’t do it with something that cost more than a few lollipops? Like, dude, a Hi-Point? Your condition is more serious than I thought…”

The comment brought the telltale sign of a smile to his lips—for a moment.

“Ok, so here’s what we’re gonna do, Lucas. We are going in there, you’re gonna tell me what’s going on right now, then we’re gonna have a nice long conversation about what has happened over the past ten years.  I am here to help. You have been my hero for the past ten years. I will tell you what you saved me from,” She grunted as he shifted a portion of his weight onto her and they shuffled into the home. “This day went differently than I imagined.“

“I don’t understand, but don’t leave me, please,” he sighed. “Everyone else has left me.”

“Have no doubt about it, I will not leave you. You’re gonna have more of me than you can handle from now on.” The words tumbled out of her mouth and they felt odd—but she felt light warmth flow through her and she had no desire to take back her words and the commitment they implied. She had only wanted to tell him how thankful she was for what he did ten years ago, but her feeble plans were shattered and she was committed—committed to save this man who had saved her from a life of slavery ten years ago from a village in Afghanistan.

“You can call me Luna.”

-     -     -

3 Years Later

“Someone might think you cast a spell on him, Luna,” Luna’s childhood friend told her as Lucas was preparing breakfast for them. Lucas was even singing along in tune to the song on the radio. “He's closer to a giraffe now than how he used to be. I’ve never seen it before. We lose more men to suicide than to war these days. Four times as many in fact since 9/11, in all the battles and war that has followed.” Luna’s friend turned to her and raised a hand. “I’ve heard you talk about him enough already, but that doesn’t stop me from being amazed, and impressed. I came today because I wanted to tell you I put in a proposal for a new program. The General is reviewing it and we’re hoping to drop that suicide number significantly.”

“Sounds like wishful thinking,” Luna said cautiously.

“I’m going to need your help. We’re going to start very soon.”

Luna flinched internally, but maintained a cool exterior. She was afraid her already pleasantly active life was about to be attacked with a pile of more obscenely boring paper work. “I already have an assignment.”

“We can fix that problem,” Luna’s friend said just before sipping her coffee.

Luna sighed, “This is gonna need to be a crazy program Gloria. I really love what I’m doing.”

Gloria taunted Luna with a very thick folder sliding it halfway across the table, “This is the proposal. I used some of the notes you gave me but I need you to help develop the program. It has the guiding principles and the most up to date scientific research data that supports this process. The basic concept is that we want you and Lucas to train women to do for other servicemembers what you have done for him.”

Luna took the folder and opened it. On the first page there was a simple document with the words GUIDING PRINCIPLES at the top in bold letters. Her eyes began to get teary eyed with the first item on the list:

1. Applicants to this program will be connected with a servicemember for the rest of their lives. This is to be a companionship that will endure through all difficulties. They will never give up, and never give in to the struggles they face. 

Luna wiped her eyes after she finished reading. “You can count me in, and Lucas won’t be able to say no. When do we start?”