Chapter 11: War
April 20, 2011
Kendra's eyes flashed open as she woke up that morning. She could see the sheets tangled around her legs; obviously she'd been fighting something off in her sleep; probably the sight of Jon being locked up and tortured by the Taliban. She's been having horrible nightmares lately.
She rubbed her face as she looked over at the pillow beside her. She'd strictly kept to her side of the bed so that Jon's pillow would keep his scent on it for as long as possible.
It was times like these, that when she really missed him, she curled up with his pillow or some of his clothes and inhaled his scent.
It'd been three weeks since Jon had left for the Middle East. She wondered why Jon hadn't written her back yet, but Edna informed her that it took a week for the letter to get there, a week for them to sort everything out. And then two weeks for the letter to come back; so Kendra assumed she was waiting another week or so before Jon's reply came back.
She nuzzled her face in Jon's pillow. She closed her eyes and started to relive some of their memories together. His smile and laugh and the way he held her. She smiled to herself and opened her eyes, half-expecting him to be staring at her, telling her to wipe the drool off her face because he was too sexy for her.
But, alas, when she opened her eyes, only the wall stared back at her. She wondered if he was thinking about her. Jon probably did, at night, but during the day he was probably fighting for his life; he didn't have time for those kinds of thoughts when he had to lead an army of men to safety.
She thought of the battles he must be going through now. The heat of the desert, the stink of sweat, the fear in the new privates' eyes; Kendra commended Jon on signing up in the first place. The thought of war was enough to make her nauseous. In fact… Kendra made it just in time to the porcelain god.
She'd never liked throwing up, the burn from the stomach acid always made her eyes water and she would look as if she was crying.
"Kendra, honey, it's time to wake up dear. It's a new day!" Edna said from the door.
She noticed that the bed was empty as she walked into the room, looking for her daughter-in-law.
"Kendra?" she called out.
She heard a noise in the bathroom, followed by Kendra's voice, "In here."
Edna walked in to see Kendra collapsed next to the toilet. Her face was pale and almost green and she looked weak.
"Oh God, Kendra, are you alright?" Edna exclaimed as she rushed over to the young woman.
Kendra tried to stand up but her legs were shaky. Her eyes were watering and had bile running down her clothes.
"Let's get you cleaned up," Edna said and she started to strip Kendra down.
A few minutes later, Edna had Kendra soaking in the tub while she cleaned up the bathroom.
Kendra was silent, playing with her wet hair before she started crying. Of course, Edna knew the drill and ignored the fact that she was wet and drew her into her arms.
Edna remembered when Trenton had left her almost forty years ago. She'd been through this stage already, where the pain from missing them is go great you feel like you can't even move.
"What am I going to do, Edna? It's been three weeks and I'm a complete wreck. How the hell am I supposed to last ten months?"
Edna just held her tighter, "It'll get better, I promise. It's your first time, it gets easier; it still hurts but it gets easier."
"What will happen to me when he gets re-deployed after he comes back from this tour? He's an important man, Edna, I can't expect that he'll quit just because I miss him."
Edna shook her head, "Jon loves you, Kendra, and I'm sure he'll retire soon enough so that he can stay here with you and start a family."
Kendra was silent as she moved away from Edna and sunk underneath the water.
Everything was so peaceful down here; it was times like these when she wished she was a goldfish, nothing to do all day but swim around and hope your owner fed you.
Kendra felt the burning in her lungs, she would need air soon, but it was so nice down here under the water.
She started to see black spots in front of her eyes and realized that maybe it would be okay if she died; the pain would stop then, wouldn't it?
She felt a sharp pain in her head, it happened to be Edna drawing her out of the water by her hair.
"Damn it, Kendra, if I didn't know it, I would think that you were me! Don't you dare think about ending your life. What will Jon do when he comes back and has to bury his wife? I heard what you told him when he left, you told him that he wasn't just living for himself; he was living for all of us. That no matter how bad it may seem, to fight and stay alive for all our sakes. How about you take your own damn advice?" Edna yelled at her.
When she was done she stood up, tossed a towel at Kendra, who was looking wild-eyed at the other woman, and she said, "Now, dry yourself off and come downstairs to get something to eat. You're not going to starve yourself under my watch. Trust me, I've been through it all, there's not one death ploy you can pull that I wouldn't know about." And with that, Edna slammed the door on a shocked Kendra.
oOoOoOo
Jon heard it loud and clear, it was the sound of laughing. The sound of his men laughing, and he could tolerate it no longer.
Jon stormed out of his tent after having a meeting with one of the command generals further east. Despite all instincts, the general had ordered Jon's platoon to stay where they were. Jon knew it was a bad idea because the area was becoming overrun with the Taliban.
The general claimed they needed to stay and help the locals, but there were no locals left. The people of this country have been through it all. It's an unwritten rule, when even they leave the area; you damn sure get your ass outta there too.
Jon slammed his fist down on the wooden table that held the small radio that they'd miraculously programmed to get American stations.
"You find this funny?" he asked his troops.
"Do you know how many men I've seen die not because they did something stupid or made a mistake, but because they let their guard down?" Jon asked them.
They all looked away from his gaze, the gaze he was known for. They didn't call him 'Old Icy Eyes' for no nothing.
There was one man, Greg, he was taller than Jon, and had about fifty more pounds than him as well, all in muscle. He was your typical die-hard American. He'd lost his sister in 9/11 and joined the Marines immediately after.
Although he was the most experienced soldier in his platoon, other than Jon himself, he acted just as bad as the boneheaded privates.
Even though Jon had said no such thing, Greg appointed himself second-in-command under Jon. And the privates were stupid enough to follow his idiotic ways.
It was Greg that came up to Jon and looked him straight in the eyes, he was the only one that was immune to Jon's glare, and said, "Well, I say Jon; you just don't want us to have any fun. I don't see any women around, other than Farrah, so what else are thirty men supposed to do?"
