Author's Note:
This is not a pro-war or anti-war piece. This has nothing to do with politics. I don't care if you support the war or not. Support our troops, who have left behind families who spend their days awaiting their return and dreading the knock the door.
This is not a pro-war or anti-war piece. This has nothing to do with politics. I don't care if you support the war or not. Support our troops, who have left behind families who spend their days awaiting their return and dreading the knock the door.
“Six Marines died today in an explosion-”
“Gace! Gace!”
Grace flicked off the T.V. as the little boy flew into the living room. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain the horrifying scenes that flashed upon the screen. She turned to her little brother, ignoring the familiar pang as she recognized those big blue eyes, that feathery blond hair, those full lips, and that button nose. “What’s up, Nicky?”
“Gace, you gotta come see what I made!” Nicky cried, grabbing her arm and tugging towards the steps.
She heaved herself off the couch, but stood her ground, “Not ‘til you say my name right. Grace. Grrrace.” Though he had mastered all other phonetic combinations, the four-year-old still had trouble with his “R” sounds within words, accenting them when he concentrated and leaving them out completely when excited. “Remember, you’ve got to practice so you can impress Daddy when he gets home.”
Nicky screwed up his nose, but purposefully proclaimed, “Grace. Grace, Grace, Grace.”
“Good job,” she praised, submitting to his resumed attempts to get her to follow.
He brought her up to his room, where a large Lincoln log cabin was settled in the middle of the floor amongst an array of toy planes. He plopped himself next to it, dragging Grace down with him.
Picking up a plastic helicopter, he exclaimed, “Guess what, Gace! I figgered it all out! Ya see, Daddy’s gonna land his hellatopper on top’a the house, and ‘cause the roof is pointy the hellatopper’ll slide down and land on the gass, and Daddy’ll jump out and we’ll all run outta the house and Daddy’ll hug you and me and Mommy and then we’ll all go and watch your skatin’ thingy!”
Grace forced a laugh and a smile to hide her breaking heart. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to encourage her brother’s hopes that their father would get home in the two days left before her recital, but she couldn’t bring herself to destroy his little boy dreams. “I know if he’d land the copter on the roof, Nicky,” she teased instead, trying to seem amused. “It might cave in under the weight.”
He beamed up at her, undaunted. “It’d still be neat, though, don’t ‘cha think, Gacie?”
“Yeah, buddy. It’d be real neat.” Utterly impossible, but heart wrenchingly neat.
*****
Nicky looked out the window every ten minutes for the next two days, practicing his R’s every chance he got, but no helicopter, roof-landing or otherwise, appeared. Grace went through her recital flawlessly, and fell asleep that night with thoughts of lutzes and salchows, the crisp swish of sharpened blades against freshly Zambonied ice and the rush of a standing ovation.
And then a touch that had nothing to do with skating.
Her eyes fluttered open.
“Daddy?” She struggled to clear her sleep fogged mind.
“Hey, princess.”
“You missed my show.” Not the most poignant of things to say at such a reunion, but she was still stuck in surprise-mode.
“Nah, baby. Don’t you know? I was there the whole time. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when you called last week you were coming home?”
“I didn’t know myself ‘til it happened. Then it all went so fast.
“I love you, my amazing Grace. I’m proud of you –for taking care of your mom and brother, for staying strong through it all.”
“Daddy… I–”
A car door slammed. Grace’s head shot off her pillow. The drugged feeling was gone. It’d been a dream. And yet so, so real.
She pulled back the curtain. It was just after dawn. She looked out into the street and the world froze.
She slid out of bed and drifted dreamlike through the hall and down the stairs. She opened the door before the knock could come. They asked for her mother, but she refused. She owed her mother that much, that she hear it from her. She heard without listening. She closed the door without a word and turned around.
Little Nicky stood at the top of the steps.
“Daddy’s plane’s isn’t gonna land in the yard now, is it, Gracie?”
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