Signed -Jackson-

He lie there, clutching his ribs and feeling the warm blood running over his hands. It was almost soothing if he focused on the flowing fluid instead of the pain. His eyes were closed tightly, searching for an image in his brain. When he found it he opened his eyes, reached out and screamed, “CLAIRE!” with his last breath.

On the other side of the world a girl awoke screaming.

“Claire!” Her mother rushed into the room and held her sobbing daughter. “It was just a dream. Just a dream,” her mother whispered, shushing and rocking the girl. “Claire. It was just a dream. Breathe sweetie, just breathe.”

Claire’s sobs quieted and her breaths evened out. These nightmares plagued her regularly. The late July heat seemed to make them worse. So vivid. So real. So heartbreaking she wanted to die. She wiped her eyes and reached for her cell phone. No text messages.

“He hasn’t texted for two days Mom.”

“Don’t worry about it. He’s okay. You know how it can be. He can’t be texting you all the time. He’s fine, Claire. He’s fine.”

Claire didn’t reply. Her mom always said that. So far it had always been true. But Claire always had her doubts.

She looked at her cell phone again. 7:43 am. Too early to get up in the summer but too late for her to fall back asleep. Her mother walked out of the room, pausing in the doorway to look back at her daughter. “I’m okay, Mom. Really.”

“I’m gonna make some breakfast. You come eat, okay?”

“Okay Mom.”

Claire rose out of bed and grabbed a box from her dresser. The bright tin container was her most valuable possession. She sat back on her bed and opened it. Taped to the inside of the cover were pictures. Pictures of times that seemed so far gone. The photo booth at the amusement park. The picnic at the dam. Junior prom. A tear slid down her face.

From inside the tin she pulled out a letter. There were so many but she found the latest and pulled it out of the envelope.

Claire,

I feel so silly writing you letters when I know I’ll talk to you soon or text you or IM. But I know you love them. And they give me a chance to say what I can’t online or on the phone.

It’s late right now, but I know it’s sunny where you are. I couldn’t sleep, again. I kept thinking of that time when we sat at the docks before I left for basic. It was so weird how it was sunny, but then it started raining. There were just a few clouds in the sky and it rained. You were wearing that white tank top with the barbeque stain.

Sometimes I get scared that I’ll forget what you look like. I’m afraid I’ll forget the way the hairs at the nape of your neck curl when your hair is up. Or that I’ll forget how you look when you throw your head back and laugh. I don’t want to forget you. I want to remember everything. When I’m on patrol and there’s nothing to do, I try to go through all the times we spent together. I started with kindergarten. Remember when I got paint on your favorite dress and you slapped me? I told my mom that I hated you. You were the meanest girl at school and I wanted to move. Right now I’m up to eighth grade. I don’t remember much from elementary school, but middle school… we did so much. Remember ice skating on Valentine’s Day? You were still taller than me, but we held hands anyways. Your palms were sweaty.

I don’t know how I remember all these things. But I do. And now that I’m here I’m glad that I remember.

God, Claire. You don’t know how much I regret graduating early to join up. Why couldn’t I have waited until May? You were right. It’s just not worth it, being away from you. Some guys here say that what we are doing, saving peoples lives and making the world better makes it worth it. But not to me. Not when I know that I could be getting ready to go off to college with you. I miss you. So much. I want to come home.

I love you.

-Jackson-

The letters were short. They were always short. But they made her feel better. She knew he had written them, and that those pages touched his hands. She held the letter to her chest before folding it carefully and putting it back in the envelope. She looked at her cell phone again. 7:51 am. She flipped it open and navigated to where the text messages were. She kept all of the ones he sent her.

From: Jackson

Im okay. love you.

Thu, Jul 26 4:07 pm

From: Jackson

Still alive. missed you lots today. go back to sleep. i love you.

Tue, Jul 24 6:34 am

From: Jackson

Carl died today. someone dies everyday in this world. i wont die. i have something to live for. You.

Sun, Jul 15 1:29 am

From: Jackson

Still okay. dreamed of you last night. best dream ever. i love you babe.

Wed, Jul 11 2:53 pm

“Claire! Come eat breakfast.” She snapped her phone shut. It was going to be a long day. Like always.

On her way to the kitchen she walked through the living room. The news was on. Claire hated the news and told her mom to stop watching it while she was around. The big story today: 13 troops killed south of Baghdad. The woman reading the news didn’t seem sad. They never seem sad anymore. Like it’s natural that people’s husbands and sons and brothers, kid’s mothers and fathers were dying all the time. She snatched at the remote, clicked the power button and threw it back on the couch. Claire hated the news.

There was scrambled eggs and toast on the table. “Jelly’s in the fridge.” Claire poured herself a cup of coffee, adding a healthy amount of creamer and an unhealthy amount of sugar. She stirred her coffee, watching the creamer blend into a progressively lighter coffee. Sipping from the cup, Claire winced slightly. It was hot, and it tasted like mud. Her mother made the worst coffee. She dug in the fridge, hunting for the strawberry jelly. She found the grape and refused to settle. Oh… the door. It’s always in the door.

She sat at the table, simple and square. Nicks and gashes adorned it. It had been made by her grandfather. She ran her hands over the smooth grain. It was home. She’d miss it when she left for school. The table that held her when she had a cut on her knee, the table that provided the roof of a fort, the table that was safety in the game of tag that should have been outside, the table was home.

Her mother joined her, soon followed by her father. Her father was dressed for the day. He worked the ranch that was her grandfather’s but was now shared by him and his brother, who got the house on the land.

“How ya doing Claire?”

“I’m fine, Dad. Just…” She sighed before finishing, “fine.”

“That’s good. Now how are you going to keep yourself busy today?”

“Well, I thought I’d visit Judy.”
Her father shook his head. “You can’t be spending all your time there, Claire. You have your own life to lead.”

Claire expected this. Her father hated that she spent time with Jackson’s mother. He was fine with Jackson, but his mother was hardly a woman that he thought Claire should be around. Judy was “white trash and never gonna be different” according to her father. She lived in the roughest part of town, fitted with a trailer and broke down car.

“Dad, I don’t care. I like being with Judy. She makes me feel better, not miss Jackson so much, ya know?”

He knew. He just didn’t like it. Dropping the subject he served himself breakfast.

The rest of the meal passed silently. Claire cleaned up the table as her mom and dad said their goodbyes. She loved that they did that. They always kissed and her mom would watch her dad pull away. Claire once asked why they did that. Her mother looked inside herself and answered, “If we didn’t, the world would end. At least that’s how it seems. Not doing it would be wrong.” It was that simple. If only everything were that simple.

Claire started washing the dishes, but her mother shooed her out. Claire didn’t mind. She ambled back to her room and grabbed the tin box again. This time she sat on her wicker round chair, a hand made quilt draped over it. She opened the box and dug for the letter with the postmark dated April 19th, 2007. She found it and pulled out the single piece of paper. She skimmed the page and found her the paragraph she was looking for.

Claire, when I get back I promise I’ll marry you. I don’t care how or where, but we’ll get married. I’m saving money so I can buy you a nice ring, with a diamond. You deserve more than just a silver band. You can wear that white dress you saw in the city and just had to try on. I felt bad lying to that woman so you could try on a dress, but I don’t regret it. I never regret anything I do with you. Never.

You once asked me how many kids I wanted. I laughed it off cause the thought of kids scared me shitless, but now I think of everything different. You said you wanted three. Well Claire, I’d be glad to have as many kids as you and God can give me. I want us to have a family and a house, maybe even land of our own someday.

Last night I had a dream. We were older, thirties maybe. We had a house in the country. It was beautiful. White picket fence, the whole deal. You and I were on the porch. You were pregnant. It was a little girl. Then two boys came running from the yard. They were ours, ours Claire. One looked like that picture of your dad when he was 5 that hangs in the hallway. The other looked like me when I was little, maybe 3 years old. Then mortar fire woke me up. I try to dream that dream every night. Someday, it’ll come true. Our dream come true.

She folded the letter and put it away. She always felt better after reading it. It somehow made her feel more hopeful. After putting the tin away, she got up and reached for her cell. 8:44 am. Still no text message. It was going to be a long day.

Claire got through the rest of her morning functioning on automatic. She managed to shower and get dressed. She even fixed her bed. In the middle of sorting her laundry she heard that familiar ring. She hesitated to look. She learned not to get her hopes up, but her heart broke as she opened the message.

From: Brandi

Dairy queen. now. xoxo

Sun, Jul 29 12:36 pm

Claire sat on her bed, holding back the tears. Fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck. Holding her phone so tightly that she had white knuckles, she got up, her face barely hiding her bitter disappointment. Every time. She did this to herself every time. Why did she care so much? Why couldn’t she expect that it would be one of her friends? She put her phone in her pocket and grabbed a hoodie while walking out. Shaking it off was easier now than it had been at the beginning.

“Mom”, she yelled. “I’m going to Dairy Queen. I’ve got my cell.”

From somewhere in the back of the house she heard a quieted, “Okay. Have fun, hun.”

Running on automatic again, Claire pulled into the Dairy Queen and saw her friends situated around a circular cement table. She put on her best “It’s summer. Be happy” smile that she could as she approached the clique.

“Claire!” they yelled happily in unison, almost as if it were practiced.

“Hey guys. Just so you know, I can stay for lunch, but then I gotta go.”

They knew she was lying. It was easy to tell, the way she smiled when she said it. But no one calls her out. “No prob, Claire. You gotta do what you gotta do.” Brandi motioned for her to sit down. “We ordered you the chicken basket. If you don’t want it, you can trade.”

Claire laughs, “How were you so sure I’d come?”

“Well, if you didn’t come, someone would eat it.” Brandi eyed her boyfriend, Gordon, the typical high school football player.

“Guess so.” She sat down and acted as she should. She laughed at all the right times, told an animated story or two, and never once did she check her phone. It’d be a dead giveaway. But it was hard. Not as hard as it used to be. But still hard. She finished her last fry and stayed for a small ice cream cone before taking her leave. Her friends pretended not to know where she was going and talked about how pitiful she was after she pulled out. Friends. Huh.

She drove to Judy’s, avoiding the construction in town that lacked detour signs. As she parked on the street in front of the house she felt her heart lift a little. Judy’s always made her feel a little better. Just as she opened the door a white car sped by, making her jump. She recoiled her arm by instinct and after the fright passed she got out. She noticed the white car turn around further down the road. She disregarded it and walked to the front door. Judy opened it; she seemed to predict these visits now.

The two smiled and embraced. Somewhere a car door shut, then another. Claire saw the look on Judy’s face and turned around. The white car was parked on the other side of the street. Two uniformed men walked towards them. Claire grabbed Judy’s hand and gripped it tightly. Both soldiers walked up to them and removed their hats.

“Mrs. Johnson?” the older one asked.

“Yes.” Her face was pallid.

“May we come in, ma’am?”

“No.”

“Pardon?”
“No. You can’t come in.” Judy stated, her hands shaking. “If you have something to tell me, you can do it out here.”

The younger soldier looked quizzically at the soldier clearly in charge. The senior officer nodded and the young one moved forward.

“Mrs. Johnson, we are sorry to inform you that your son, Jackson, has been killed in action. He died early this morning…”

The rest was unheard. Claire fell to her knees, tangling her hands in her hair as her nails scraped her scalp sharply. Her heart stopped beating as the first tears fell from her eyes. Judy screamed. The world kept spinning, somehow.

At the funeral Judy would tell Claire that she was glad Claire was there when Casualty Assistance Officers came. Judy didn’t have it in her to tell Claire that kind of news. Claire was silent. The tears spoke for her. All was understood.

Some days later Claire got a letter. It was a manila envelope with no return address. As she opened it, the package crinkled. There was something plastic inside. She pulled a single sheet of paper.

Claire,

You don’t know me, but I was in the same unit as Jackson. I promised him I’d send this if anything happened to him. He kept it with him at all times. I was with him when it happened, and I managed to pull it out before it got ruined. He loved you.

Sincerely,

PFC Samuel Hines

Claire emptied the rest of the envelope. An envelope, addressed and stamped was wrapped in plastic. It was from Jackson. She removed it from its wrapper and looked at it closely. It had obviously been written a while ago. It showed signs of being bent several times and spilt on. Jackson must have wrapped it so it didn’t get further damaged.

She waited until she was in her room and safe on her bed before she opened the letter. She didn’t really know what to expect. Her hands shook as she tore along edge, careful not to rip more than necessary. She pulled the paper out. For some unknown reason she started crying. Wiping away the tears, she unfolded the paper, careful not to get it wet.

Claire,

If you’re reading this, I’m sorry. I lied. The day I left I promised you that I’d come back whole. I want you to know I planned on it, coming back to you. Marrying you. Living happily ever after.

Our last day together was so perfect. That field was made for you and me. I know it. As we lay in the grass, no one could have told us that it’d end this way.

God. I hope you never have to read this. If I make it home, I’m burning this. We can have a bonfire and burn all the letters if you want. Erase all the memories of us being apart. But you are reading this. Damn. This is so hard to do. I can’t imagine dying, leaving you alone. But I’m writing this for a reason. I want you to know all the things I’ve never told you. Or told you enough.

I love you.

I want to name one of our kids after my dad.

I want you to go college.

I’m sorry if it ever seemed otherwise.

I’m sorry for the fights.

You were always right.

I love you.

I hate that my initials are J.J.J.

Claire Ann Johnson is the most beautiful name I can imagine.

I broke your mom’s flower vase.

Never dye your hair. It’s tacky.

Don’t sell out. You’re better than that.

I hate cats and dogs. Equally.

I love you.

I do believe in God.

You should too. He brought us together.

I lost it to Teresa Carlile.

She was terrible. Honestly. And I was drunk.

I joined the army so I could provide for you.

I never thought of how it would affect any kids we have.

The Valentine’s Day gift I gave you was my mom’s. I didn’t buy it. Yes, she knows.

If I could give you anything, I’d give you a star to put in your pocket for rainy days.

Yes, I know that is your favorite song, even though you deny it.

I love you.

Don’t forget me.

Forgive me.

Move on.

Be happy.

Marry a man who puts you first.

Have as many kids as you want.

Learn how to fly.

Never give up.

Don’t cry for me.

Miss me. But not too much.

I love you.

See you in heaven.

-Jackson-

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