"All passengers, this is the captain speaking," I heard. "We will be landing in Kingston in about one hour."
I fully woke up, and saw rows of seats, all full. I was on an airplane that was flying from London to Kingston. I had a two-hour stopover at the airport terminal in London, where I had myself an appetizer and some drinks at this bar before my flight to Kingston. I had to admit that the flight was more comfortable than flying in a C-130 Hercules from Gibraltar Air Base to Monument City Air Base.
Sure enough, an hour later I felt the landing gears touch down on the concrete surface of the runway at Norman Manley International Airport. A few minutes later the plane stopped.
"Welcome to Kingston," said a voice over the speaker. "And thank you for flying British Airways."
All of us headed for the exit. It took quite a while for me to reach the door. I walked along the jetway to the boarding area.
The boarding area looked as much as it did the few times I had been here before, with seats for waiting passengers. One difference I noted was the presence of Christmas decorations. The seats were mostly empty, as the next flight was still for quite some time. As expected for this time of year, the boarding area was crowded. In the distance I could see a Burger King and some duty-free shops. A tiled pathway led down the corridor connecting the boarding gates to the main concourse. Many of the people had bags full of gifts for friends and family. A few wall-mounted televisions showed images; one of them showed an image of United Earth Forces Supreme Commander Anatole Leonard giving a press conference, probably about the war.
I turned on my cell phone and made a call.
"Hello," said my big brother Paul.
I told him it was me. "Could you pick me up at the airport in Kingston in about an hour?" I looked at the massive crowds. They were not as massive as the crowds I saw in London's Gatwick Airport, but I still felt as if I was being squeezed from all directions. "It's going to take a while for me to get through customs."
I looked and saw a sign for Jamaican customs; already, there was a long line for people waiting to be cleared. I could smell the sweat.
A female voice called out my name.
I turned and saw a black lady in a blue blouse and skirt, with her tightly-curled black hair tied in a ponytail. She wore pumps on her feet.
"Ellie," I said.
"It's so great to see you." She walked over and gave me a hug. "And you're in the Army?"
"Yeah," I said. I was dressed in my Class "A" service uniform.
"How was it?" she asked.
"Very demanding," I said. "I'm glad I'm able to come home for some rest. And you?"
"Just bust with my career and all. I got back from a trip to Rio. Did you fight in the war?"
"Yes, I did," I said.
The line moved slowly as the customs agents in their blue collared shirts checked ID's and conducted inspections. It was longer than lines for rides at Six Flags over Montego. After over an hour, I finally managed to reach the customs desk, a wooden desk with two uniformed customs agents. I showed my passport and declared some items.
"You are clear," said the customs agent, a bald black guy in his mid-twenties. "Have a merry Christmas."
"Listen," Ellie said to me. "All of us are meeting at the cantina tonight. For a pre-Christmas celebration."
"Okay," I said. "I'll be there."
I left the customs area and went onto the main concourse, which was predictably a sea of people. I made sure to call my brother.
I went outside to the passenger loading area. Cars, buses, and vans slugged along the road, while other vehicles picked up or dropped off passengers. I could smell exhaust fumes from the vehicles. Most vehicles still used petrol, as it was cheaper than protoculture. I looked around. It was great being back in Jamaica.
I saw Paul come out from a blue Volvo that pulled to the curb.
"Bro," he said. "Great too see you."
"Good to see you too," I said.
"How's the Army life treating you, bro?"
"Okay food, okay quarters, at least when we're on base. In camp everything's primitive."
"Okay, Mom and Dad are home with Trina and Larry."
I threw my duffel bag in the back seat and got into the front seat of the car. Reggae music played on the car's stereo. After a minute, Paul found a gap in the traffic and pulled into the lane.
As we inched along the heavy traffic leaving Norman Manley, I began thinking about my encounter with Ellie. I could remember how we met years ago, and how we got along. I got to know her well. And we got along together perfectly, like mixing alcohol and water.
And I remembered loving her.
And I remembered what she said when, one afternoon, I asked when we can start dating.
"It would ruin our friendship."
I was hurt. We got along together so well, and she sent all the signals indicating that she liked me. How could she have not wanted to act on those feelings? It did not make sense. I had thought that we would be together. I could not imagine her rejecting me, after the way she behaved towards me compared to how other girls behaved towards me.
I looked out and we had left the airport. Traffic was still heavy on the road connecting the airport with the A4. I could see the wide expanse of the Caribbean Sea to my right. To my left, I saw Kingston Harbour with its many boats and ships, and the skyline of downtown Kingston in the distance. I once again thought about Ellie.
And then I was thinking about Melissa Sharp. Am I not going with Melissa now? And did I not get father with her than I did with Ellie? What was I worrying about?
And yet if someone who actually liked me could reject me, could Melissa simply drop me for any inexplicable reason or no reason at all?
I looked around at the scenery. I hated overthinking things. I could see familiar landmarks, from buildings to lampposts. We reached the exit from the highway, a few miles from Kingston, that we used to get to Mom and Dad's house.
I could see the neighborhood; there were stores along the sidewalks, with people doing some Christmas shopping. We turned onto a quiet residential street with houses in neat rows and various cars parked on the street. Paul stopped the car by our parents' house.
"I'll find a place to park," he said, noting that street parking was scarce.
I got out of the car and looked at my watch. It had been a little over twenty hours since I got on board the shuttle van back in Gibraltar Base.
Carrying my duffel bag, I went to my parent' house and rang the doorbell.
I was greeted with a hug.
"How are you doing?" asked Mom.
"Great," I said. "I'm glad to be home. And you are looking well."
"How is my soldier boy?" asked Dad.
"Great," I said. "It was a tiring flight, but I'm home."
I looked at the living room. It looked as much the same as it did, with a coffee table and couches. A blue carpet covered the floor. A huge Sony plasma television served as the masterpiece; it was currently off. One noticeable difference were the holifay wraths hanging on the top of the walls. I could see toys strewn on the carpet.
"Larry," I said.
"Hi," said a three-year-old boy in blue overalls. "What are you wearing?"
"It's my Army uniform," I said to my nephew. "I wear a uniform when I go to work."
"Like what Daddy wear when he go to work?"
"A little different."
"How are you doing, soldier boy?" asked Trina.
I looked at Trina. She looked the same as before, with dark tightly-curled hair and dark skin. She wore this green dress. I first met her a couple of years ago. I could still remember her wedding with my brother Paul.
"Great," I said.
"Did you fight in the war?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "Anything exciting happen while I was away?"
"Nothing aside from a tropical storm or two."
"I made a late lunch for you," Mom said to me. I went to the kitchen, sitting at the wooden dining table. I could see the Salisbury steak on serving plate, drenched with mushroom sauce. Coco bread was served in this straw basket.
I immediately went for the Salisbury steak.
"I can see you're hungry," said Dad.
"Just wait until I serve jerk turkey and curry goat for Christmas," said Mom.
"I almost forgot," I said, after having eaten the ground beef patty. I reached into my duffel bag. "I got this in a gift shop at the airport in Morocco."
I took out a plastic toy battloid, which was made for kids Larry's age. I gave it to my nephew.
"What do you say?" asked Paul.
"Thank you, Uncle," Larry said to me.
I went upstairs to the second floor hallway and entered the door on the right. This was my bedroom. It looked just like I remembered it, with a bed and personal computer and a TV and a dresser.
I opened the closet and started undressing.
Oooooooo
I could hear the waves of the Caribbean Sea crashing on the beach as I walked on the boardwalk that night. I looked and saw this building with straw awnings. It was the Cantina Loco, a popular beach hangout.
"Hi there," said a girl at the hostess counter whom I had never met. She was wearing a black blouse and skirt with the cantina logo on the blouse. "Welcome to Cantina Loco."
Hermes and I entered the cantina. I was dressed in sneakers and jeans and a blue T-shirt, while Hermes wore khaki pants, glasses, and a red T-shirt. Hermes had been my friend since childhood.
"Do they have places like this in Morocco?" asked Hermes.
"There's a few in Tangier," I said.
"I thought people there wouldn't drink alcohol."
"It's not one of those fundie Muslim countries like Saudi Arabia," I said. "There they are."
Everyone was sitting at this wooden table. Food and drink were already on the table top. The main bar of the cantina had a straw awning just like outside. Mariachi music played over the speakers. There were not that many people; this place tended to get much busier during the summer.
"How's the war hero?" asked one of the men, whose name was Fred.
"Glad to be back," I said.
"And what was it like?"
"Well, one time my team and I were deployed to the Sahara Desert during the summer. It was baking hot. The Army brought ice cold water just for us to cool down."
"All that talk is making me want a cold drink," said Hermes. "Shall we order some more drinks?"
And so we did.
"I propose a toast," said a blond-haired guy whose name was Randy. "A toast to the war hero."
And so we toasted. I downed the drink quickly.
"I forgot to mention," said Hermes. "Charlie won't be here."
"Where is he?" asked this lady named Barbara.
"Charlie's in a ship on the other side of the Universe."
"He is?" asked Fred.
"I remember he enlisted in the Spacy," I said, taking a tortilla chip and dipping it in salsa. Charlie was another longtime friend of mine.
"His ma told me she got a message from him," said Hermes. "He's on this ship, I think it's called the Global or something."
Ellie looked at me; I could see that familiar smile. She then looked at all of us. "A toast to those who won't be back for Christmas," she said.
"And for those who will never be back for Christmas ever again."
My words immediately erased the smile from everyone's face. The mariachi music and the positive attitude from the people sitting at the bar and the other tables felt like light-years away.
"I never thought of that," said Fred.
We all drank in memory of the fallen. I thought of Tomas Cabon and Isamu Shirogane.
"That was very good," said another man, a bald black dude wearing a polo shirt. "We needed to learn that."
I glanced at him again; I did not recognise him.
"I have an announcement to make," he said.
He took Ellie's hand and led her on the floor. He then knelt down.
"Ellie, will you marry me?" he asked.
Marry her? Who was he? I remembered her boyfriend from before I left for Gibraltar Base, the boyfriend whom she started seeing after she had told me that dating would ruin our friendship, but that was not him.
"Yes," said Ellie. "I will marry you."
I saw the diamond ring slip on her left ring finger. She gave him a kiss and everyone cheered.
Except me.
"How long did you know him?" I asked.
"Three months," she said.
Three months? That was the time I was deployed to Monument City. And she was going to marry someone after only knowing him for three months? I knew Melissa longer than that.
"That is interesting," I said in a neutral tone.
"We're in love," she said.
"What about…"
"He's old news. My man is right here."
She wrapped her arms around him and I glanced away.
I was soon sitting at the bar, having a schooner of beer. A replay of a football game was on the TV.
"Are you all right?" asked Barbara.
"Fine," I said. I looked at her. She looked pretty much as she did before, with creamed coffee skin and light brown hair; she was dressed in jeans and a red striped blouse.
"You're not fine. Is it about fighting in the war?"
"Yes, it's about fighting in the war." I briefly remembered my battles with the so-called bioroids. "I can still smell and see the war sometimes."
"And it's about Ellie too."
"What makes you think that?"
"I saw the way you were looking at her. We all know you liked her. And she was fond of you. I never understood why you never got together."
"That's in the past," I said, sipping the beer.
And yet, I could still feel that affection that she showed. It was her affection, more than anything else that drew me to her. Come to think of it, while Melissa liked me, she did not show that kind of affection. And then I was thinking. Was I simply dating Melissa, going steady with her, just to have a substitute Ellie? What would happen if Melissa did not show the same affection that Ellie showed toward me? And how could Ellie find someone to marry so soon, and know that he is the one just three months?
"Why are you sitting here alone?" asked Hermes.
"I wanted a beer," I said. "It has been a long year for me."
"Well, after Christmas is over, we should have a goin' away party for you, man. You fly back on the 27th , right?"
"Yeah, or I'll be AWOL."
"If you fly back on the 27th, then we party on the 26th."
I saw Ellie approach me with her new fiancé.
"We have to be going now," she said. "Merry Christmas."
"I will," I said. I saw them leave, with his arm around her waist and her head against his shoulder.
"Merry Christmas," said Barbara.
"Have a merry Christmas," I said to her.