Turned the Corner

This story is part of my Thrown Away People series. 

So he turned the corner and found that there were no more places to go. The night was cold but there was no feeling it. He had stopped feeling a long time ago.

Looking at the faded leather army boots he wondered how he had gotten here.  Even more he wondered where he was heading. Being alone was not being. There was nobody left to go to. He had thought he was coming home and he had found that home had left ages ago.

He watched as a few snowflakes settled on the top of his boots.  Trying to cover up the blackness. Bury it in pureness. Yeah, he was these boots. He was the blackness that everyone was so desperate to avoid. At first he thought that he was still in his invisible mode. The quiet as you can, don’t move too fast and blend into your surrounding that war mandated. You didn’t survive without learning some control over invisibility. He had learned it well. He learned it so his bunkmates didn’t see him.  You didn’t want friends that you had to mourn about when they caught a bullet. He learned it so his superiors didn’t see him. They took the most visible recruits for the assignments. Nothing special for him, simply slink behind the pack. He learned it so the enemy never saw him. Not until he dragged his knife across their throat. He had learned invisibility well.

Coming home. Hell, being released from active duty he had found it difficult to turn that invisibility off.  He had stopped for a cup of coffee, a real cup of coffee at the local diner after he had stepped fresh off the plane. He could smell the fresh brewed stuff. Full power. Not the weak re-brewed stuff he had been drinking. As he sat at the front counter, he watched as waitress after waitress pushed past him to get to the suits and ties sitting in the booths. But he was patient. He would wait his turn. His turn clicked into minutes and past two rotations of the booths.  He tried to speak up as a waitress slowed by him but she only looked at him for a moment. A frown crept on her face and he saw the pain in her eyes. She quickly dashed away but only after he knew that she had seen him.

Not really invisible but not a welcomed sight. Shrugging his shoulder he climbed to his feet and reached for the pot of coffee he had been eyeing for awhile. He poured a mug full of the hot brew and set it down in front of where he was sitting. The steam rising slowly to the tin ceiling of the diner. Nobody watched or said a word as he replaced the pot back on the burner and sat down to drink his capture. The coffee was good.  His taste buds danced in triumph and he could feel the hot liquid splash against the back of his throat and crawl all the way to his belly. It made him feel more alive than he had felt in a long, long time. He had his back to most of the diner and he was fine with that.  Just like he was fine with being dim. He didn’t want to be invisible but dim was ok.  There was no cause for a scene. Facing the crowds and shining too bright might do that.

He smacked his lips as the last drop of coffee slid out of the mug.  He would love another cup but he knew that it was time to push on home.  He might as well get the horror over with. He wasn’t sure what was going on.  He had written letters to his wife while he was on tour.  She had written a few back but whenever he called he got a recording saying, “this number has been changed to a private listing, forwarding number is unavailable”.

And then there was the thick envelope that had come just before his last day at camp.  It looked official and was from a lawyer in his town at home.  He hadn’t opened it but he could guess what it was.  War had a funny way of being in a different time and a different place from the real world.  Life went on without you whether you liked it or not. He had suspected from the tone of her few letters.  She was young and needed to live.

Home. Hell.  He wasn’t sure why he still thought of it as such.  He had no home. The place that he remembered had become somebody else’s home.  His warm bed now comforted somebody else.  Even across the void of thousands of miles he could see that.  It didn’t matter who it was.  It didn’t matter the reasons why.  It was over.  He knew it was over.  War changed you.

He slipped a couple bucks under his coffee mug and walked into the cold winter air.  Refreshed from the coffee but feeling an emptiness in his gut.  Maybe he was hungry. He just didn’t feel like eating. His destination was a few blocks to the south.  He bent his head and started in that direction.  Under his coat was that envelope.  It was still unopened.  But it didn’t matter. The fact that he had it would be enough. 

Things looked like a familiar setting in a movie that you watched over and over again. You knew the twists and turns but you could never really touch them.  People were simply characters in the film. Somehow they knew he was coming.  Like they had rehearsed and played the scene time and time again.  In perfect sync as their paths turned to avoid his.  A furtive glance, a look of horror and all of a sudden they had some place else to be. Closing doors, crossing the street or even staring at their feet to avoid eye contact.  I don’t blame them he thought.  I would do the same.

The skies in response to his arrival started their confetti of snow. Slow white flakes falling from the sky.   Keeping rhythm to the beating of his heart. A drum beating out the tune of his doom.  There were lights on in the house. There were people home.  He needed to do this while he still had some courage. He had no fight left. They had taken all he had.  And there was the love. Yeah.  He still loved her. 

Up the steps.  One. Two. Three. It always comes in three. 

Knock, Knock.  He never imagined that he would be knocking at his own house.  He was the type that knocked.  Never use the doorbell. There was so much more personality in a knock.  People always knew what kind of person was calling. He wondered how his knock sounded today.

And then, there she was.  As radiant as ever.  Her blond hair cut short and sassy.  Her deep blue eyes were filled with the sparkle of the stars. How he longed to pull her to him and whisper, I missed you. Kiss her lips and breathe in her essence. In that half an instance, he did just that. He was alive. And then the half instant was over. The sparkle in her eyes turned to terror. He saw the fear. He saw the pain as she saw the remnant of the man that she had married. She flinched as she saw his wounds.  Great scars where the landmine had cut craters in his body. She stepped slightly back and whispered, “Oh my God”.  Trying to hold back tears. Trying to stop from turning and running away. And then the look got worse. It turned to pity.  It held guilt.  It held the pain.

“Mark, I thought that you would call first, didn’t you get my package?”

In the corner of the room he saw him.  Thank you for small miracles.  At least he did not know him.  He seemed decent enough.  Standing back enough to give her space but still there as support. Mark pulled the envelope from his jacket and handed it to Ann.

“I can’t.  I just can’t”

She looked at him and then to the sealed envelope. 

He turned to walk away. She grabbed his shoulder and said, “Mark, wait”

Turning back he knew that she wanted to explain. She wanted him to understand. 

“Ann.  Don’t make me. I can’t say that I don’t love you anymore.  I can’t. Have your lawyer do what they need to.”

There was sadness in her eyes.  Sitting right next to the horror. She looked away. She clutched the envelope and slowly closed the door as Mark headed back the way that he had come. He passed the diner and came to the corner.

He turned the corner and found that there were no more places to go.