Part 4
A month on a boat, with no Harm and just Arc, Slit, Rock and Bill to keep me company. Oh, I had a blast! We worked out. We played sports and we even traded personal stories. When push comes to shove, men are just like women. They're gossipers and they are jealous of one another. After all, what are men, but merely the same as women, with a Y chromosome? Naturally, that makes them all the more different- thank God- but at the same time, that little difference shows us how similar we really are.
However, it is the behavior that I have witnessed between the four men listed above, that makes this counselor argue that perhaps in the evolutionary line men are closer to monkeys than woman. Why? because at the end of the day woman is less primitive than man.
What would Harm have thought about that? I wonder. I can just imagine him saying, "You're basing that all on hearsay, Mac." Ahh Harm, how you are so wrong. I base my findings on evidence:
"Mac, can I have your coke please?" Arc asked.
"No, you may not. I still want it." I told him.
"But we're on our second round of Gin Rummy and you haven't touched it yet. Hell, it's not even open."
That's when Slit burped.
I looked at him in disgust. We had no beer at the table, alcohol was forbidden on the ship, so why would he burp. Carbonated beverages make one burp, I reminded myself. "Please don't burp." I told him.
"A marine with manners." Bill laughed. "I can't believe it. Woman, we are men. We do what we please!" This was the first time Bill had addressed me with so much disrespect, and the other two seemed to laugh.
Through their laughing, my mind took me back to my childhood and my father.
I imagined him sitting in his chair completely drunk. He burped. "Daddy, it's rude to Burp."
"Rude to burp! I'll tell you what's rude! It's rude to talk back to me, and you will not talk back to me you hear?"
"But I wasn't."
"Insolent little rat! Come here! I'm gonna smack you so hard you don't see the light of day!"
And fair enough he did. I woke up the next day in a hospital. I had been out for six hours. My mom had come home from work and found my dad drunk and me unconscious. I was only six.
I pulled myself out of the nightmare. It was no more. I was no longer that weak child, yet at that moment I felt my whole world cave in on me. I was no longer the perfect marine I was supposed to be. I had so much emotional garbage that I felt unclean.
I noticed they had stopped laughing. I looked at each one of them, finding nothing funny, then laying my cards down softly and quietly I got up and giving them one more glance I left the room.
'Some marine you are. You can't even take a memory!' My mind yelled at me. I wished I were home with Harm, with the Admiral, with Bud and Harriet. Harm would fix it. He could fix anything.
I wanted to be alone. My room wasn't a good choice cause I shared it with Slit. Where else could I go? With my head held high I looked for someone or someplace that I could turn to. But on a boat you can't expect much.
I found comfort in the most unexpected person. After having paced for a while I decided that the best thing might be to work out my worries. Therefore though I could not go for a run as I usually would I could do pushups and crunches in the workout room. Entering the room I ran into Jena, who was just leaving.
"Gonna tone up that firm body of yours, Mac?" Jena asked sarcastically.
"Up yours." I said. I was in no mood to play around and I had had enough of men for the day. If I had to interact with another egotistical macho asshole of the male species I would write to Admiral Chegwidden and get myself off this boat ASAP.
But that wasn't meant to be.
I immediately turned to the bar. On it I would be able to do pull-ups and crunches hanging down, just what the doctor ordered. I took a deep breath, jumped and grabbed the bar. Then I lifted myself unto my middle and then proceeded to sit on it. This was an easy feat. I remember doing the same when I was younger, before my father took to drinking. The bar had been my favorite thing in the school playground.
Now I hung my knees. Stale for the moment. But then all of a sudden I lost balance and too much blood was flowing to my head. I would have slipped if it wasn't for two strong hands catching me by the waist and putting my feet right and then helping me back to the top of the bar. Sitting upright again I took a deep breath and looked at my hero. It was Jena.
"You almost took a nasty fall there, Mac. Lucky I stayed back." He said leaning against the wall. Once again he was mister all-that. The man that was going to save the world it seemed. He was so self-centered. Or so I thought. "Wanna talk about it?" He asked me.
I looked at him hard. I had no trust in him what so ever; he had caused me nothing but agony. The lawyer in me wanted to give him a chance. The woman in me didn't. The marine in me wanted to trust him. The emotions in me wouldn't. "There's nothing wrong." I said and then proceeded with once again slipping down the bar. This time I stayed there and managed to start my crunches. After forty my head had had enough and I let myself down.
"There is something wrong, Mac, I can see it. I'm married, I have six sisters and three daughters, so I can tell when a woman is upset, and you are upset." His speech was bland, and his accent plain. A hint of Navajo was still in it, but without a trained ear one could not hear it. "I know that we've gotten off on the wrong foot, but I know everyone else and I don't know you: I needed to know if you had some lead in you, because I was about to put my life into your hands."
His soft tones and his soothing voice made me crack and for the first time in a long time I began to cry. I tried to hold it in. I tried to be the marine I am. I couldn't. The tears would not stop. However I would not tell Jena what happened. I had only told Harm about my history and it was going to stay that way. "I can't tell you Jena." I told him.
"Then don't. Write it down; address it to someone who would understand the situation. Reason it there and then imagine what they would think about it and how they would react. That helps me. A couple years ago I witnessed my brother get gunned down by one of our own, or friendly fire if you will. I wrote a letter to my wife explaining what happened and reasoning it. She never got it; I would never give her something so dark, but just the thought of getting it out helped the healing process. Perhaps that's what you need."
I listened intently to him. I was taken back with his advice. I had never expected Jena to be able to willingly help me out, the person he seemed to so deeply protest. However he did help and after helping me up I followed his advice.
I was in bed by the time Slit came in to our cabin. I was facing the wall, so I couldn't see him, but his shadow suggested that he stood there watching me for a moment. "Mac?" He wanted to see if I were awake. Hearing no answer he said, "I'm sorry for whatever we did today. I hope you'll talk to me about it. I want us to stay friends, plus, we still have to work together." Then he did something I really did not expect. He walked up to me and then tucked me in and placed a kiss on my cheek as if I were his child. His fatherly disposition at that very moment made me feel safe again.
My emotions had played with me the entire trip. What the hell was wrong with me? A marine does not have emotions guide her! A marine does not let personal history get in the way! I would have to talk to Uncle Matt about it as soon as I got home. There was something odd with me that I couldn't explain. I missed Harm, I hadn't seen him in three weeks and I missed his kisses his hugs… and more.
Slit had changed and moved towards the light. The moment he switched it off I began talking. "My father was an alcoholic. By the time I was four he was discharged from the marine corps and was never sober. I remember when I was six he burped…" I explained the story to him hoping he would realize the significance. He did. He sat on the edge of my bed and softly patted my leg.
"You don't have anything to worry about, Sarah." He told me. "Your dad's not here and I would never let anything happen to you. You realize that don't you?"
I didn't say anything. It was wiser not to I had learned over the years. I was relieved. In a way I had been cured. I had been told that I could feel and that I had good reason to. I had been forgiven for my conduct. Then I remembered Harm. It felt so good to tell Slit what had happened, but then why did I feel like I had betrayed Harm? So many feelings were going through my mind. I felt so small.
No more words were said that night. Slit went to bed and I dreamt of arriving home and being with the man I missed.
* * *
A month on a boat, with no Harm and just Arc, Slit, Rock and Bill to keep me company. Oh, I had a blast! We worked out. We played sports and we even traded personal stories. When push comes to shove, men are just like women. They're gossipers and they are jealous of one another. After all, what are men, but merely the same as women, with a Y chromosome? Naturally, that makes them all the more different- thank God- but at the same time, that little difference shows us how similar we really are.
However, it is the behavior that I have witnessed between the four men listed above, that makes this counselor argue that perhaps in the evolutionary line men are closer to monkeys than woman. Why? because at the end of the day woman is less primitive than man.
What would Harm have thought about that? I wonder. I can just imagine him saying, "You're basing that all on hearsay, Mac." Ahh Harm, how you are so wrong. I base my findings on evidence:
"Mac, can I have your coke please?" Arc asked.
"No, you may not. I still want it." I told him.
"But we're on our second round of Gin Rummy and you haven't touched it yet. Hell, it's not even open."
That's when Slit burped.
I looked at him in disgust. We had no beer at the table, alcohol was forbidden on the ship, so why would he burp. Carbonated beverages make one burp, I reminded myself. "Please don't burp." I told him.
"A marine with manners." Bill laughed. "I can't believe it. Woman, we are men. We do what we please!" This was the first time Bill had addressed me with so much disrespect, and the other two seemed to laugh.
Through their laughing, my mind took me back to my childhood and my father.
I imagined him sitting in his chair completely drunk. He burped. "Daddy, it's rude to Burp."
"Rude to burp! I'll tell you what's rude! It's rude to talk back to me, and you will not talk back to me you hear?"
"But I wasn't."
"Insolent little rat! Come here! I'm gonna smack you so hard you don't see the light of day!"
And fair enough he did. I woke up the next day in a hospital. I had been out for six hours. My mom had come home from work and found my dad drunk and me unconscious. I was only six.
I pulled myself out of the nightmare. It was no more. I was no longer that weak child, yet at that moment I felt my whole world cave in on me. I was no longer the perfect marine I was supposed to be. I had so much emotional garbage that I felt unclean.
I noticed they had stopped laughing. I looked at each one of them, finding nothing funny, then laying my cards down softly and quietly I got up and giving them one more glance I left the room.
'Some marine you are. You can't even take a memory!' My mind yelled at me. I wished I were home with Harm, with the Admiral, with Bud and Harriet. Harm would fix it. He could fix anything.
I wanted to be alone. My room wasn't a good choice cause I shared it with Slit. Where else could I go? With my head held high I looked for someone or someplace that I could turn to. But on a boat you can't expect much.
I found comfort in the most unexpected person. After having paced for a while I decided that the best thing might be to work out my worries. Therefore though I could not go for a run as I usually would I could do pushups and crunches in the workout room. Entering the room I ran into Jena, who was just leaving.
"Gonna tone up that firm body of yours, Mac?" Jena asked sarcastically.
"Up yours." I said. I was in no mood to play around and I had had enough of men for the day. If I had to interact with another egotistical macho asshole of the male species I would write to Admiral Chegwidden and get myself off this boat ASAP.
But that wasn't meant to be.
I immediately turned to the bar. On it I would be able to do pull-ups and crunches hanging down, just what the doctor ordered. I took a deep breath, jumped and grabbed the bar. Then I lifted myself unto my middle and then proceeded to sit on it. This was an easy feat. I remember doing the same when I was younger, before my father took to drinking. The bar had been my favorite thing in the school playground.
Now I hung my knees. Stale for the moment. But then all of a sudden I lost balance and too much blood was flowing to my head. I would have slipped if it wasn't for two strong hands catching me by the waist and putting my feet right and then helping me back to the top of the bar. Sitting upright again I took a deep breath and looked at my hero. It was Jena.
"You almost took a nasty fall there, Mac. Lucky I stayed back." He said leaning against the wall. Once again he was mister all-that. The man that was going to save the world it seemed. He was so self-centered. Or so I thought. "Wanna talk about it?" He asked me.
I looked at him hard. I had no trust in him what so ever; he had caused me nothing but agony. The lawyer in me wanted to give him a chance. The woman in me didn't. The marine in me wanted to trust him. The emotions in me wouldn't. "There's nothing wrong." I said and then proceeded with once again slipping down the bar. This time I stayed there and managed to start my crunches. After forty my head had had enough and I let myself down.
"There is something wrong, Mac, I can see it. I'm married, I have six sisters and three daughters, so I can tell when a woman is upset, and you are upset." His speech was bland, and his accent plain. A hint of Navajo was still in it, but without a trained ear one could not hear it. "I know that we've gotten off on the wrong foot, but I know everyone else and I don't know you: I needed to know if you had some lead in you, because I was about to put my life into your hands."
His soft tones and his soothing voice made me crack and for the first time in a long time I began to cry. I tried to hold it in. I tried to be the marine I am. I couldn't. The tears would not stop. However I would not tell Jena what happened. I had only told Harm about my history and it was going to stay that way. "I can't tell you Jena." I told him.
"Then don't. Write it down; address it to someone who would understand the situation. Reason it there and then imagine what they would think about it and how they would react. That helps me. A couple years ago I witnessed my brother get gunned down by one of our own, or friendly fire if you will. I wrote a letter to my wife explaining what happened and reasoning it. She never got it; I would never give her something so dark, but just the thought of getting it out helped the healing process. Perhaps that's what you need."
I listened intently to him. I was taken back with his advice. I had never expected Jena to be able to willingly help me out, the person he seemed to so deeply protest. However he did help and after helping me up I followed his advice.
I was in bed by the time Slit came in to our cabin. I was facing the wall, so I couldn't see him, but his shadow suggested that he stood there watching me for a moment. "Mac?" He wanted to see if I were awake. Hearing no answer he said, "I'm sorry for whatever we did today. I hope you'll talk to me about it. I want us to stay friends, plus, we still have to work together." Then he did something I really did not expect. He walked up to me and then tucked me in and placed a kiss on my cheek as if I were his child. His fatherly disposition at that very moment made me feel safe again.
My emotions had played with me the entire trip. What the hell was wrong with me? A marine does not have emotions guide her! A marine does not let personal history get in the way! I would have to talk to Uncle Matt about it as soon as I got home. There was something odd with me that I couldn't explain. I missed Harm, I hadn't seen him in three weeks and I missed his kisses his hugs… and more.
Slit had changed and moved towards the light. The moment he switched it off I began talking. "My father was an alcoholic. By the time I was four he was discharged from the marine corps and was never sober. I remember when I was six he burped…" I explained the story to him hoping he would realize the significance. He did. He sat on the edge of my bed and softly patted my leg.
"You don't have anything to worry about, Sarah." He told me. "Your dad's not here and I would never let anything happen to you. You realize that don't you?"
I didn't say anything. It was wiser not to I had learned over the years. I was relieved. In a way I had been cured. I had been told that I could feel and that I had good reason to. I had been forgiven for my conduct. Then I remembered Harm. It felt so good to tell Slit what had happened, but then why did I feel like I had betrayed Harm? So many feelings were going through my mind. I felt so small.
No more words were said that night. Slit went to bed and I dreamt of arriving home and being with the man I missed.
* * *