Old Friends in the New World
A Few Days Later- November 2nd- 2076
"I can do IT! I CAN WALK!" I shouted aloud in celebration. After two months of constant physical therapy and bone fusing surgical injection drugs, I could walk… In a way.
I was told by my trainer, Marta, "You can walk, but take it very, VERY carefully."
She gave me the crutches to walk around on and it still hurt to place my feet on the ground, but it hurt a hell of a lot less than it did when my pelvis was practically just taped together. I grabbed up my crutches and strutted down the halls of the hospital to find Savannah. When I found her, she was more than happy to see how I was, even going so far as crying at the sight of me on two legs.
Upon discovery of my required ability, and immediately when I got home, I burst through the doors in search of mom like a kid eager to tell his mom he got an A on a test. I couldn't find her, and figured she must've gone to one of her daytime clubs or activities. So, without thinking, I acted on the next immediate thought as Savannah came through the doors and began straightening up the living room. I strutted over to the kitchen cupboard and pulled out the phone book. I looked through the yellow pages for my best friend's name. I came across the Savaren household name in Takoma and punch in the numbers. After two months of being unable to walk and being the happiest I'd been in almost my whole life, I felt like I had to tell the world next if I couldn't tell mom, and Savaren was the first one I thought about. I hadn't seen him since the plane ride, but always had the plan of getting in touch with him as soon as I could walk in the back of my mind. Since his injuries at LM-5 were so limiting, I did promise I'd be there to help him in whatever way possible. But, it was a little hard to do that in a chair.
So, the phone rang and rang but there was no answer. I had been home for an entire month but was too focused on readjusting, rehabilitating, and reconnecting with my family to really think about my pal, and almost surprised myself in the fact that I remembered him at all. So, I was disappointed when the call wasn't answered, but luckily, his last name was fairly unique, so I could call the household whenever.
After hanging up, I stood there for a minute, thinking Savaren was probably just busy, in treatment elsewhere, or still knocked out from pain drugs. Standing there and thinking about my friends, another thought hit me, "Where was Brandon?" I wondered how he was since I lost track of him too in the airport terminal. I tried calling his old number, figuring he moved back in with his parents for recovery, but again there was no answer. My best battle buddy and my old friend from middle and high school both lost a leg or worse in the service, and I couldn't ask how they were. I eventually shuffled over to the couch with my crutches, and sat there on the couch with Savannah, feeling slightly defeated. Then I realized something else, "I can go upstairs now!"
The realization burst from my mouth, startling Savannah, and she smiled, saying "Go on up. Unless you need a hand."
I told her some bullshit about how I had to be able to do it myself, she smiled again with a nod and stood from the couch to do something in the kitchen.
I forgot that there was an entire 2nd floor to the house. I couldn't go up there since getting home only because the narrow staircase prevented mom and Savannah from helping me up in a bulky chair. Either way, I thought, "No more sleeping on the couch for me!" and hobbled up the stairs to look at each room. The rooms had better, newer, and cleaner furniture same as the downstairs. I went over to my old room and saw the entire room was full of flowers and antique displays of furniture and trinkets? The bed was a single, and the covers had flowers all over them. This wasn't the room I remembered... I wondered what happened to all my band posters, and other unique or idiotic items from my youth.
Just then, I felt Savannah in the room, and turned around to see her standing in the doorway. She gave another smile and said, "Come with me."
She held my hand ever so lightly on the crutch, leading me to my mom and dad's old room. When she opened the door, I was blown away as she said, "Welcome to our room."
There was a queen bed in the center of the room, two dressers along the sidewalls, and a large mirror in the corner. Once again, there were potted plants everywhere, and the long white curtains billowed slightly from the outside breeze while the afternoon light illuminated the room in a way I could only describe as magical. I didn't even care about my old shit from my youth; I was just excited to see the bed and beautiful new room I'd share with my love.
Though I was excited to sleep in a bed with Savannah, I still had to sleep very carefully so as to not ruin the past two months of recovery. The doctors said that my pelvis was still like glass as the drugs and therapy finally settled. This meant that despite the progress, I couldn't do the nighttime activities I've waited and psychotically imagined years for. However, I knew when nighttime comes she will be right by my side and sleeping gently in my arms on Our bed.
The afternoon went on, mom eventually returned, we went through the hysterics again, and after dinner, the phone rang. Mom got up to answer it, and I continued watching a God-awful RobCo infomercial from my spot on the couch. Mom poked her head from the kitchen doorway and said, "It's for you, I think." She brought the phone over to me on its long cord and I answered, "Hello?"
The voice of a woman spoke, and she said, "You called this number earlier today?" I knew right there it was Savaren's number.
I told the woman that I was trying to call the Savaren household. She said I had, and I said I was a close friend of Kenneth Savaren. The woman was his mother. I talked to her for a while about how I knew him, and she recalled my name in a few letters from him. We had never met before, so it was nice to chat with the mother of my best friend and Battle Buddy. Figuring Savaren was still a drugged-out mess like I last saw, I told her I'd understand if her son couldn't talk.
I was wrong, because as soon as I mentioned that, she said, "Oh it's no trouble at all! I'll get him over here!"
I heard a muffled and slightly aggressive-sounding, "Ken! Phone!"
There was a distant and muffled "Quitcher Hollarin Birth-Giver!"
After a moment, she uncovered her receiver and said sweetly, "It was wonderful to meet you David. Almost forgot, would you want to com-"
There was a shuffling sound, a bit of back and forth from what sounded like my pal and his mother, and then Savaren answered with a cheering, "Levin!" that sounded nothing like the man in horrific pain that I last saw in a chaotic airport terminal.
I wanted to know what his mother was going to ask but quickly forgot about that when Savaren was directly on the other end.
Words can hardly describe how good it was to hear from him, especially sounding just like his normal self!
I asked him how he was doing after the initial hellos. He told me how he used a wheelchair to move around while they fit him for a prosthetic leg. When I asked about the shrapnel stuck in his torso and how agonizing his breathing was, he told me simply how the civilian docs he'd been seeing were able to remove it without too much trouble. There simply wasn't much more to say about that other than our mutual bash of, "Figures, Army docs suck." No longer was he suffering from a problem that made his mercy at LM-5 an actual burden. Just like me, he was injured enough to go home and not have to go back to the front, only to be healed in the magical land of Civilian Land. Both he and I were so grateful, even for the bad things, and making the best of what we could at home. I told him of my recovery, and we both wondered who to thank for all the good sent our way in the past month. I thought of Nurse Alyssa, and briefly wished I had a way to personally thank her as well, only to be sidetracked by more chit chat with my best pal from over there.
I spoke with him for several minutes until he had to go, but he ended up satisfying my curiosity about his mother's cut-off invitation by inviting me and my family over for dinner tomorrow night. I subtly inquired about the scuffle with his mother earlier only for him to laugh and say that was how his family talks, especially since his parents had to raise a bunch of kids. Upon remembering that detail about my friend, I somewhat feared what the family dinner would be like. So, we said our goodbyes and that was that.
Still sitting there with the phone in my hands, I was thrilled from having just spoken with my good friend, and told my mom and Love about everything. I then recalled my other earlier call, picked up the phone, and dialed up the McNamara household again.
To my surprise, Brandon himself answered it. Nearly the same conversation occurred, and Brandon too was doing miraculously well for a man who lost his leg like Savaren. Despite my background feelings I had on the plane, I really was glad he was doing well. I thought of how he spent the war on the glorious front and came home with honor, and for some reason, I felt no need to compare our two services. I just felt Savannah leaning on me with her hand resting on my leg, and felt so glad that Brandon got to come home too. So, we talked and talked about this and that, but the two calls were lasting a long time in the already late evening. When Savannah invited me to bed, I remembered thoughts from earlier that day, and simply mentioned that I had to go. Although he and I both felt like we hadn't really had time to properly catch up in the plane or on the phone, so he ended the call with an invite to all of us for dinner next week. That sounded like a wonderful idea, so I agreed, and hung up, ecstatic from talking to my two friends, and even more excited to sleep in a bed with Savannah.
The next evening, we went to have dinner with Savaren and his family. I was under the impression we were going to a little dinner with Savaren's big family, but it wasn't. We actually got lost in the neighborhood for 30minutes before we found the place, and part of the reason was that we couldn't find a place to park. There were so many cars in front of the place, and the only noise was the chatter of a loud social gathering happening somewhere. I wasn't sure we were at the right address, but I'd written it down and Savaren spoke very clearly over the phone. When we got to the door, we were greeted by Ken's dad, and he gave me a firm handshake when I told him who I was. We were led inside where there was nobody to be seen until we reached the door to the backyard where there was no dinner taking place. What we arrived at looked more like a party than anything.
The house was a quaint two-story little thing much like our Georgetown house, but the backyard was large and seemingly packed with what looked like a hundred people. I later learned that the Savarens' almost regularly hosted big barbecues in their big backyard where they invited all the neighbors and just about everyone they knew. It wasn't just a little get-together; it was in fact a party. I met Savaren in his chair talking to some neighbors after walking through the packed suburban gathering, and he whipped towards me in amazement and delight.
I gave the man a big old hug from his chair, thankful that he was doing well despite everything that happened over the past few months. Savaren was especially pleased to meet Savannah, especially after hearing stories about her all the time. In Canada, I showed him the pictures she sent me (including some of the private ones), and he listened to me talk about how she was doing or what she was up to in my occasional moments of non-psychosis. I recalled some of the things I'd said that weren't fit for Savannah, and some of those pictures before even finding Savaren at the party. My worry about him bringing up some of that were thrown out the window when he saw Savannah. The look in his eyes said something that wasn't romantic, scheming, or anything possibly negative. The look was more like one you might get after finally achieving something big. Not that I asked about it, that was just the impression I got. But, upon the first introduction, and after that look, he threw his arms around her from his chair and then shouted, "So glad to finally meet you, Sis!"
As she and I talked with my long time friend, it became abundantly obvious to me at least that he felt like she was one of his own family members.
As the party went on, we stayed with Savaren, but still mingled with the other guests. The night was cold, but the neighborhood teens made a big fire in a large pit that heated the whole yard as the smell of barbecue filled the air. That night was perfect. Despite the cold; a few drinks, talking to good people, holding Savannah, and accompanied by my best bud was more than enough.
The only even remotely strange thing that happened during that night was how Savaren kept telling the neighbors or his siblings about how I saved his life a "Hundred Times." I found that puzzling only because I felt as though he saved Me a hundred times. The fragmented memories of Montreal resurfaced occasionally, and every one of them were times that he stopped me from going even further into the deep end I was already trapped in. I thought of him pointing his finger at me in the worst moments and how I instinctively reacted to that like a dog being told to stay. Seeing Savaren being an overly joyful version of the Savaren I knew from Montreal made the last Montreal memory that night about how he never became crazy.
I'd questioned it many times before when I saw Savaren, Andrews, Collins, and Hill, "Why were they spared?" I had no idea, but I was neither jealous, nor angry, nor anything but glad that he was doing well. I literally shook the memories out of my head as I felt Savannah's arm around my waist, and it felt good to feel like a hero in that atmosphere. I still wondered how on earth I could've saved Savaren at any point over the 9 years of war, especially since all the incidents he told strangers about were vague at best. However, I'd eventually hear something that helped me understand his mindset, but I'll get there. As for the evening, everything remained pleasant, and I really saw why he spoke so highly of home over the years.
Most were done with their food by the time the bonfire was started, and I loved getting to truly meet Savaren's family. It was actually a bit strange having to explain who I was talking about when I referred to "Savaren" since that could've been a lot of people at the party. Another adjustment problem was referring to most people by last name. Anyways, the Savaren I knew had two younger brothers, a little sister, three more slightly older sisters, and both parents still in the picture. The younger siblings were around the age of 10-15, so my friend was gone for nearly their whole lives. The older ones still hung around because there was a strong community sense that made them all work locally. His mom worked at a little but popular pawn shop in the neighborhood while his dad was a Pastor at the local church. The dad also coached the Takoma Park Little League team, but everyone in Savaren's family was heavily involved in the neighborhood as a whole. I knew a lot about Savaren's life from years of idle chat on guard duty or downtime in the barracks, but meeting the family was something great in itself, and seeing the kind of impact the family had based on the sheer size of the event made me feel astounded that my best bud in the rubble of Montreal was away from This. Because of everyone the household knew, and despite their home being relatively small, the Savaren house was essentially a community center with neighborhood people of all ages coming and going nearly every hour. The house sat on the edge of the Takoma neighborhood and industrial district with a large grass backyard overlooking the park and cleaning chemical factory beyond it.
The party with the Savarens lasted into the next morning, but we had to leave at midnight because Savannah worked. Kenneth invited me over any time, and I left the place with Savannah feeling absolutely amazing.
Savannah and I both liked going to the family dinners. The next week, we headed to the McNamara household to meet Brandon and say hello to his family. When we arrived at the old McNamara residence, it wasn't like the Savaren barbecue. This dinner was an actual family meal, but with brandy and politics afterward, as was just like I remembered about the McNamara residence from my younger days.
It was great to meet Brandon's family again after all those years and it certainly was something else to meet Brandon's sister Ashley again. She was really helpful and nice, but I didn't get to interact with her too much since the real conversing was between the men in the parlor after dinner. However, it was clear Ashley had grown into a remarkable young woman. Seeing what people turned into after so many years away never ceased to amaze me. Bill was all politics like he used to be while Brandon was easygoing, but even more reserved than before from years on the Alaskan Front.
Dinner was all good, but I wasn't quite sure what to make of the parlor discussion that followed. After dinner, we all sat in the living room/parlor and talked with glasses of fine liquor. Mostly, it was just Brandon and I talking vaguely about our experiences over in Canada or Alaska in front of Bill who seemed more interested in what we were saying as a means of getting something from it, rather than genuine interest. What I mean is that our vague little stories would get interrupted by a comment from Bill like, "You boys would have gotten better gear if the Board of Blah Blah Blah would actually work FOR our armed forces, and not get swamped in partisan nonsense! I swear we would've beaten the Reds five years ago if they let our military work like it should!"
Like I said, it appeared almost as though he wasn't even listening to us unless there was something he could use in his job made present. I only say that because nearly thirty minutes into our stories, Bill finally realized I was in Canada for 9 years. I'm sure that sounds strange, but what's even stranger was the fact that his realization made me realize the same thing. Again, after 30 minutes of Brandon and I almost continuously talking, Bill interrupted me and asked,
"Wait, you were in Montreal... During that?"
This was strange because my story was just about how the forces in the city consolidated at the famous "Firebases" after the assault in late 67. It was then that I realized all the talking I did was about LM-5 life or experiences as far back as basic, leaving a giant gap in everything between.
Brandon set aside any notion of any vague story he was going to tell upon hearing his father ask an actual question. I tried recalling what I said only moments ago when Bill's face twisted to confusion as he set his drink down. His eyes looked up from the end table and met mine as I still hadn't given an answer. When I saw his eyes, I finally remembered seeing them years earlier.
I spent all evening at the man's dinner table, eating his food, talking happily with his family, and not once did it occur to me that I saw the same man in the worst of my psychosis. The world around him began to morph into the crumpled ruins of The Square's barracks. Savannah, Ashley, and the mothers on the other end of the room turned into soldiers covered in ash playing cards by a foggy window as the ghosts of soldiers in identical mismatched US uniforms walked across the room. The ghosts continued to walk the room only to disappear at the turn of my head, and the formerly lavishly colored dim parlor continued to steadily grow grayer and grayer. I saw the ghosts of everyone suddenly stand to attention, followed by the ghost of Bill and the other NSA walk slowly by in their pristine suits. Reality was almost gone entirely when the ghost of Bill stopped and merged with the Bill of the present day.
Not knowing whether the Bill McNamara I was looking at was the Bill of past or present, those eyes were the same when I began feeling the sensation of a gas mask around my face. My heart thumped, I felt the weight of a helmet atop my head, the straps on my mask tightened, and the filter of a respirator lens worked its way slowly across my eyes. The further my vision succumbed to the mask, the more my heart pounded and the heavier I breathed. Hearing my breaths muffling more and more from the mask that was becoming more real each time, I felt myself begin to sob as I looked into the unmoving eyes of my friend's father.
"I don't want to go back! NO! I don't want to hurt anyone! FUCK THEM! I'll FUCKING KILL EM ALL!" I felt myself deteriorating while the tears increased the fog.
The face was un-changed.
Panicking even worse as the world became more and more filtered by the mask, each muffled deep breath made me cry even more hysterically. I felt my chair disappear from under me, and I was curled into a ball on the ash and rubble-filled streets of Montreal. Squeezing my eyes shut as hard as I could, feeling the tears stream down my face, almost drowning in them as they pooled inside the mask. Almost dead, I screamed and shouted for someone to save me until I found myself howling, "YES! YES! I WAS THERE!" through tears and beneath the rumble of artillery.
Upon opening my eyes, I found myself back in the McNamara's parlor. Briefly feeling my face, the tears were never there, and the world didn't even have the tint of grey. Everything was silent as the women continued talking softly to one another on the other end. I turned to Bill, bewildered by the experience only seconds ago. Bill's face was calm, but still focused on me as he asked, lazily, "What was that, David?"
With a mind focused on the return to reality, my eyes shifted to Bill, and without thinking about it, said cooly, "I was there for all the Sherman days, Bill..."
His lazy expression morphed to a deadly terrified one when his eyes darted to mine.
I don't know what his face was saying in that transition, but he stared at me for seemingly longer than I was transitioning to psychotic before saying in a Bourbon induced hiccup, "Sorry you had to go through that, Dave."
Dead.
There was literally nothing going on in my mind after Bill said that. There was no sadness, anger, joy, relief, curiosity, rage, hate, love, or anything... Just, nothing. I didn't even know what I should have felt about the experience of seeing Bill back in Montreal or how to relate it to the present, but a few seconds after his last words to me, he turned around in his chair and called the nearest woman for a refill. Upon hearing the request, Ashley stood herself up, apparently used to carrying out her traditionalist father's requests, followed by Savannah.
When Savannah turned around, she gave me a smile, and sweetly walked with Ashley over to us where she asked in her lovely way, "Can I get you anything baby?"
Still slightly estranged by the night, I was staring off into space as I declined the offer. My eyes glanced to Bill who downed his refill in one swoop and motioned his daughter for another when I felt two lips leave a mark on my cheek. The lusty words of Savannah entered my ears, "Ok. let me know if you need anything. Love you David" as she walked back to the other side of the room.
Then, that was it.
The night went on, and Bill rapidly succumbed to the alcohol. I don't even remember the rest of the evening. Not because I fell into psychosis again, or because of the words of Bill that became more and more incoherent. I didn't even consider the words of Bill, or why my simple answer to his question seemingly made him guzzle liquor. The very second I found myself caring about what he knew or didn't know about why life was the way it was in Annex Land, Savannah would turn from her distant conversation and give me that beautiful little smile again.
The world of love would return, and the darkness of horror would scatter.