The Soldier's Return

Chapter 15

In a way, Matt thought, it was like being in a war zone. Don't think too much, don't question, focus on the mission, don't have feelings about it. Do the things you have rehearsed so many times that you could do them asleep, without food or water, under fire or with a gun to your head. Except that now the war was in his own head, and with himself.

The only time he felt whole and alive was when he spent time with his son. It was a lot like hanging out with his men when they had free time. He had responsibilities, sure, but at the same time he could be spontaneous, could be himself. In fact, the stark contrast between the times with Jimmy and all the rest of the time reminded him a lot of his army days. The good time was more important, more intense, because it was limited.

The worst thing was that he couldn't even talk to Sean about what he was going through. In a way it was as if only someone who had been in combat could understand. He had known almost as soon as Maggie left that night that his problem wasn't really with her. There had been that moment of blinding rage when he had asked why he didn't deserve to be a father. Almost immediately, though, in his own mind, the question was answered: I don't deserve to be a father. I'm not good enough, I will never be good enough, I am broken. When Maggie talked about her own depression after Jimmy's birth, it felt like that, too, was his fault. Of course she hadn't told him, why would she tell him? His own self hatred battered him day and night, and the only time he seemed to have a break was when he was with Jimmy.

He was both dreading and anticipating the holidays. The first Christmas with his son – how could he not be excited about that! But when Jimmy had gone on and one about the yearly tree cutting expedition, he knew that it would be unbearable to share time with that happy group and not really be a part of it. Gently, he told his son that he didn't think he could make it, and was thankful when the boy didn't bring it up again.

Since he didn't have Jimmy that Sunday after Thanksgiving, he and Sean went for a long run. His brother had been increasingly lazy, in Matt's opinion, and the excesses of the holidays had stretched his waistband to the point where he was going to have to buy new pants or lose a few pounds.

Late that afternoon, as dark was falling on the winter afternoon, Doug pulled his old red truck up in front of Matt's apartment complex. This was his last delivery, and he had intentionally not called ahead for fear that Matt wouldn't answer the door. It had been overcast earlier, but now a brisk wind was blowing the clouds away and the Christmas lights that decorated many of the windows cast a clear light into the parking lot. The tree, as he pulled it from the trunk, smelled of Christmas, and he hummed a Christmas carol as he carried it up the stairs and knocked on Matt's door.

"Hey Matt". The younger man stood blinking in the doorway; he had not slept again last night and was dozing in his chair when he heard the knock on the door.

Matt wiped his eyes and looked at Doug and then at the tree. "What's this?" He almost wondered if he were still asleep.

"Your son wanted you to have a Christmas tree. Well, to be more accurate I think he wanted you to have a place to put the presents he hopes you'll buy. Can I come in?"

Matt stood back and held the door wide as Doug entered. Still groggy he said the first thing that came into his mind: "I don't have anything to put on it. No lights, no decorations. I don't even have a stand to hold it up."

"I figured you didn't. Hold on a sec." Doug went back out to the truck, and in a moment he returned with a large cardboard box marked "ornaments"; on top was a tree stand. "Junie sent you these." Forestalling Matt's objections, he continued, " The O'Leary family has enough Christmas stuff to stock a store; she was happy to have another place to send some. Maggie and Jimmy took another huge box and there's still twice as much as we can use." He set the box down. Without giving Matt a chance to say anything, he picked up the tree again.

"What do you think? Over here look good?" Barely waiting for Matt's nod of assent, he slid the tree into the stand and set it in front of the window. "Here, let me fill it up with water for you." He went into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a pitcher full of water. "Hope it's okay if I use this." With the efficiency of a man who has put up more than his share of Christmas trees, he quickly filled the stand and stored the pitcher back in the kitchen. Matt was still standing in the same place, looking on in surprise and bewilderment.

"Jimmy will be very upset if we decorate it without him, so I'll just leave that for the two of you to do together. He was thinking maybe you'd bring him back here for a while after school tomorrow."

Matt nodded, then finally found his voice. "I really appreciate this, Sir, but, umm..well, you don't have to do things for me."

"I know I don't have to. I wanted to. We wanted to." Doug looked sharply at Matt. "No matter what happens between you and my daughter, you are Jimmy's father. That makes us family, and for his sake if nothing else we need to act like a family." Again Matt nodded; his objections melting under the barrage of Doug's determination. Some how he felt relieved; he realized he had been afraid that Doug would be angry with him over the dismal state of his relationship with Maggie.

"Look, Matt". Doug spoke more softly now. "Maggie told me about your talk. I can tell by looking at you that you've been suffering. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to sit down and keep you company for a little while." For the third time, Matt nodded. Gesturing to the sofa, he settled himself on the easy chair and gestured for Doug to make himself comfortable. For a time there was silence, not an uncomfortable silence, just quiet.

"You and Maggie have something in common – besides Jimmy, that is: you both try to do things on your own."

"Sir?"

"It doesn't work, son. Sometimes you have to let other people in, let people help you."

"I don't want Maggie to get hurt."

"Tough. She already loves you, and that means she feels it when you're in pain."

"She loves me? After – everything?"

"She loves you son. I've never seen a girl more in love, except maybe my wife when she fell in love with me." For a moment Matt felt a surge of hope. Maggie loved him! His doubts quickly returned.

"It's too late, Sir. I've blown it."

Doug looked thoughtful. "Do you remember your first jump?" Confused by the sudden shift in the conversation, Matt nodded. "Me too. I'm standing there in line with the other guys, looking at the door of the plane and wondering if I was really going to have the guts to jump out of it. " Both men were silent for a moment, remembering back over the years to their shared experience of paratrooper training.

"We reach the jump zone and the line starts to move, and all I'm thinking is 'don't flinch, don't hesitate', 'cause if you do you've washed out." 

Matt nodded. He remembered how many times it had been drilled into his head: paratroopers didn't flinch, they didn't hesitate. If you didn't make your jump  each and every time, you weren't a paratrooper any more.  "I remember, Sir. You don't slow down the line."

Doug chuckled. "I was focusing so hard on not hesitating that I practically pushed the guy in front of me out the door."

Matt laughed politely, but from his puzzled look it was clear that he was wondering what the point of the story was.

"Matt, here's the thing. The Army might not give you second chances, but life does. It's not too late for you and Maggie."

Matt hesitated for a long moment. "I'm afraid, sir."

"You know what they say in the army, son: the man who says he isn't afraid is either a fool or a liar." He clapped Matt on the knee as he got out of his chair. "Just think about it, son. Sometimes you just have to trust your training and go for it."

With a wave in farewell, Doug was gone. Matt sat in place, and a goofy smile spread over his face. "Maggie loved him?" For the first time, he really believed it.