DUTY CALLED

How could she? How could she leave us like this? She knew how I felt about the war, how I felt about her recruitment. She just assumed we were gonna wait here until she returned? Fuck knows she expected us to. I thought, as my head dropped, sitting on an uncomfortably soft sofa, I barely ever sat on, in a living room, I rarely ever bothered to enter, except for the normal cleaning duties, or collection of toys, which Lucy left behind and screamed her head off for later. It sat immaculate and undisturbed. Tacky Chinese cat ornaments peered at me from around the room. You know the kind, the ones with the waving hand and huge, creepy wide-eyed stares and grinning faces, probing you from across the room, just amused by your presence. I always hated them, they were Cheryl’s, she loved the ugly things, collecting them for years, long before I ever met her.

The room had that smell in the air, one I never forgot. That kind of wild fragrant, woody scent from the potpourri. Yes, she loved that room, her little sanctuary, her escape, her quiet space when on leave. It didn’t have a TV. Partly the reason she cherished it and partly why I had no reason to ever be in there.  

The Visiting Officer from The Royal Marine’s sat on the matching armchair in front of me, remaining courteously quiet. I had never seen someone sitting so painfully stiff before. He came across as dutiful, full of purpose even. I could sense his awkwardness, but I didn’t care, he could stay that way for the remainder of his visit for all I cared.

KILLED IN ACTION! The words hardly bared thinking about. Although, I did. They were the only words I could think about, repeatedly. They resonated with me, spinning in my mind like a tumble dryer. The world was in disarray and all I could think about was my emotional turmoil. My heart had been ripped from me and picked to pieces and still, I couldn’t stop being angry. I longed to lament for her, but the lament hid behind the fury I held toward her for leaving us, never to return. I sat there thinking about this poor Marine, waiting patiently in my house for some kind of a response, a resolution to his visit, and all I could give was uneasy quietness. I was just thankful Lucy was staying with her Gran for the night.

“What happened?” I asked, looking up at him, trying with no effort to suppress my emotion.

“I can’t go into specifics Sir.” The Marine responded, looking me dead in the eye, not a crease of sentiment in his features.

The answer took me aback. It was direct, yet not so straightforward. “What do you mean, you can’t go into specifics? Surely, I have a right to know how she was killed? Where, when can I see her?” My anger was no longer fixated on Cheryl’s abandonment. I gripped the arm of the sofa and squeezed.

“You can’t see her, I’m afraid Mr Lewis.” His composure unchanged.

Ordinarily, I would tell him just to call me Philip, or Phil, but I wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, it wasn’t the time. No words left my mouth, I stared at him. All kinds of thoughts began to race through my mind. Is he judging me? Judging me because it wasn’t me who died in battle, but my wife? Why is he so elusive? What isn’t he saying? It didn’t matter to me that he was bigger, or more skilled in the art of combat than I was, I wanted to hit the fucker right there and then.

He sighed heavily, stared at the ground, and for a fleeting moment, seemed to have dropped his guard. Hs eyes caught mines again and he spoke. “We have no body sir.”

I wondered if my face portrayed the shock I was feeling. I knew my mouth was gaped. I couldn’t find any words; they were lost to me. Our eyes held each other’s for a moment. His long gaze was respectful and with an unwillingness to falter in his composure and mines through not having anywhere else to look. My mind was in another dimension.

I managed to rustle up a couple of fragmented words. “Eh… How do mean? Whhh… att? She just dddisapeared?”

The Marines displayed a momentary frown before answering. “I was told not to go into detail, but I couldn’t see how else to answer your questions, but ‘Sergeant Lewis’ was killed by an explosive device on the field Sir.”

My words began to form again. “So, you’re saying my wife was blown up on the field and there is nothing left of her? Or are you saying she’s still out there, or what?” I began to seethe.

The Marine sat forward. His shrunken, almost agitated demeanour suggested he thought people were listening in on our conversation. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this Mr Lewis, but this is my first time informing a family of their relatives decease.”

My grief, anger and sadness paused briefly. I sat forward myself, to listen to what this young man had to say. Just in case Big Brother was listening.

The visitor continued. “The weapon was something we’ve never seen before. Those things are far more advanced than we first realised.”

For a second, I was no longer a relative of the deceased. It was as if I were listening to a story of someone else’s misfortune. I had forgotten that it was my Cheryl, my wife we were even discussing, until it dawned on me later.

Just when I was about to ask for more information, more details, a thud sounded from the front door, sending both of us into a state of alarm. By the look of the Marine’s face, he knew the meaning of the knock on my door. We stood straight, him straighter than me, of course and headed for the front door. Through the doors pane of glass, I could see an aged, senior Marine waiting. He was much more authoritative than the young Marine in my house. He stood stronger and prouder, with a stiff lip, strong jaw line and a lot more medals, decorating his blazer.  

I opened the door, not before noticing my Visiting Officer’s sudden stiffness returning. How do you do Mr Lewis? I’m sorry to impose myself on your door during this time and I’m sorry for your loss.” He removed his beanie, placing it beneath his armpit. He stood proper and proud and offered his hand for shaking. “Sorry Sir, for my manners. Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Lieutenant Morgan.” I shook his mighty paw, trying not to show the pain he brough to my hand. “I came with your Visiting Officer Sergeant Gerald; I was just waiting in the car. I wanted to approach and see if he was caring for you properly.”

I thought this to be very strange. I looked at Sergeant Gerald before answering. He looked nervous. Then, I remembered he had told me information I wasn’t to know. Not wanting to offer up the young man on a platter, even though I was supposed to be under a great deal of grief, at that moment it just hadn’t come yet. It would come soon.

I returned my attention to the Lieutenant and with a shaky voice I answered. “Yes Lieutenant. He’s been perfectly fine, under the circumstances.”

He smiled such an ingenuine smile, it was almost smug in a way. My whole being wanted to hit him. My fists clenched, but I knew aggression would have been pointless. I just wanted a little more time with the Sergeant to understand more. Of course, just when I was about to speak out, the Lieutenant caught me off guard. “I’m very sorry to be so blunt Mr Lewis, but I need to take Sergeant Gerald with me. We have urgent business to attend to.” He looked at me with arrogance and spoke. “There’s a war going on you know?” the words were as cold and careless, as they were unnecessary. He then moved to the side and gestured to the Sergeant standing beside me to leave with him, which he did obediently. The two Officers saluted me, I almost saluted them back, but managed to prevent myself from appearing like an idiot and then they departed into their jeep.

Suspicion clouded my thoughts. There was something more going on than I was led to believe. Had she been killed for sure?  If not, was she still out there? I mean, if I couldn’t see her, then how was I to believe she was certainly gone? What about a funeral? I don’t know a damn thing really. The more questions which entered my mind, the angrier I felt with Cheryl. She put herself in this position, put us into this position. Whether she was truly dead or alive somewhere was irrelevant, one thing was for sure; there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. There was a war between two worlds taking place and about to become grievously distrustful.

I stole through the house, back into the living room, when I kicked one of Lucy’s Dinosaurs, lying on the ground, her favourite one, the one with the two horns protruding from its head and a huge plate on the rear of its head. I never knew their names. Lucy knew them well though. I broke down releasing an almighty burst of emotion. The anger, the grief, the loss, it was overwhelming and exhausting. The worst of it was, I couldn’t even see her, she would never be in front of me again. I couldn’t tell her how pissed off I was and how abandoned I felt. I clenched my fists. My jaw beneath the tears tensed. The next thing I knew, I had already picked one of those stupid fucking cat ornaments up and launched it off the shitty papered wall. I lost all energy and slumped over the sofa and wept.

Lucy was at her grans for the night, and I didn’t want to turn her whole life around with the news at that instant, nor anyone else’s life, not even her mother. I had all night to do nothing but process the whole ordeal. I hated her for it, for everything she was putting myself and Lucy through, for even signing up in the first place. I knew there was a war going on. A war like no other.  Aliens by Christ. I thought. Aliens killed my wife. Fucking aliens.

Cheryl had already been in the Royal Marines before the Aliens had shown themselves. At first, they seemed to be friendly. A couple of aircrafts had arrived within our orbit. Nothing unpleasant or untoward really, just appeared as though they were here for exploration, then more arrived months later and that was when the new war began. Cheryl was immediately drafted. She was a communications expert and damn good at it too. Super intelligent and super fierce to boot. Really, she was made for the armed forces. Unlike me, just a crime journalist. What I couldn’t understand was how she even got targeted. She wasn’t front line, so how could she end up dead?

I contemplated through the night, slowly beginning to understand why she wanted to join the Royal Marines. She had always wanted to, always spoke about it. she was a natural. I thought that once Lucy was born, she would stay with us and never return, but her goal was too strong. I slowly and painfully began to see it through her eyes. She just wanted to make our lives and our world a safer place for the rest of us to live in. The anger I harboured for my Cheryl, agonisingly dissipated to mourning for her loss. It wasn’t just us who lost her, but her who lost us.

I hope that in her final moments, she wasn’t frightened, and that she thought of us and remembered our faces, and I hope that it brought her peace. The journalist within me wants to find answers, but for right now all I must do is think about Lucy, how to keep her alive and safe through this disastrous war. One day I will find those answers though.