Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of a Thing of Happiness [Completed]

Act I, Scene V

Our breakfast the next morning was a hearty meal of eggs and bacon. Having already gotten changed, the men had to eat in their suits, while all I had was a form-fitting emerald green dress and oversized black combat boots someone had picked up from the PX. We chatted about what was going to happen, what we wanted to do when stateside, what our favorite kind of ice cream is.  The chatting made the mission seem less intense, less... scary, I suppose. The only one who didn't speak was Dockle. He just stared sullenly at his food.
   
"All right, everyone. Please meet with your battle buddy and discuss your plan." Allen announced.
   
The men filed out in groups: Patrick and Louis; Allen, Nolan, Tiller. Soon, only Dockle and I were left. He growled and scraped his chair against the floor before pushing it in violently. As he tried to leave the room, I stood in front of the door and blocked his way out. I felt something crack within me.
   
"What is your problem?!" I shouted at him.
   
He scowled and tried to move me out of the way. My feet shifted in the shoes, but I stood my ground.
   
"We are supposed to be a team!" I continued while struggling to remain standing. "This isn't what a team looks like!"
   
He stopped pushing me. As he stood over me, I realized he was a good two feet taller than me, and I suddenly felt very intimidated. But I needed to know what he had a problem with.
   
"My son is in there," he whispered.
   
"What?"
   
"I said," he repeated, a little louder, "my son is in there. With your father. Your father couldn't keep him safe. I thought I could trust him, but I was wrong. I will not make that mistake again."
   
I stood there in shock as he finally managed to push me out of the way, growling. Although Patrick tried to fill the time with horrible jokes and cringy puns, Dockle's sour mood infected everyone. When we reached Abadi's house, my jaw dropped.
   
The estate was massive.
   
While the ride there had been full of slums and people living on the street, caked in dust and dirt, this was the polar opposite. The mansion itself was huge and plated with gold. There were two fountains in the courtyard; the water flowing out was beautifully clear, like crystal. Bushes filled with vibrant flowers lined the sides of the paths, which were paved with marble. Patrick whistled. I could see the farm, clearly a large source of income, in the background.
   
"Ah, Madame!" called out a man's voice. "It is honor to have you here!" The Saudi farmer rushed up to us.

I leaned over to Dockle. "I thought he didn't speak English," I whispered. Dockle cast a quick glance at Allen, who shrugged and nodded.
   
"Madame was unaware you spoke English," Dockle said, also speaking English. The farmer shrugged.
   
"You learn much while in my trade. I did not know she understood English, either. Ah, well, miscommunication, I suppose. Do come in; I will get you change of clothes."
   
As he led us into the grand house, one of his servants tried to take the bags from Patrick and Louis. The latter stared them down until they backed away, apologizing.

When we got settled into our rooms - Allen, Tiller, and Nolan next door to me, Patrick and Louis down the hall, and Dockle across the hall from me - I changed into the dress provided for me by the farmer. It was a simple, fitted black dress. While it looked (and smelled) like it had been worn for several generations, it felt soft and new. I decided to take off the large shoes, instead changing into black slippers that fit much better. Dockle walked in as I was studying myself in the mirror.
   
"I figured out how they're so rich," I said, not making eye contact. "They reuse their clothes instead of buying new ones."
   
Dockle nodded. "Look," he said. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. It wasn't fair of me to blame you for something that isn't your fault."
   
I turned to face him. "It's fine. We're both under a lot of stress."
   
"Thank you," he responded gratefully.

I nodded. "What's his name?" I asked, still avoiding his gaze. I wasn't sure if he'd heard me - my voice was barely above a whisper - until he replied.

"Calvin."

Calvin.

I took a deep breath before asking my next question. "How... how old is he?"

Dockle hesitated, too. "He turned 19 last month."