Don’t ask me which war this was, I have no idea. War is war is war, which sucks. Um, that is all.

--

When Jimmy came back from the war, he was changed. They pretended not to notice (but for Little Mary, who was twenty in body and six in mind, and she didn’t know any better).

At first, with smiles and cheers, they thought he was fine; and what a fine picture he cut, with his blond hair cut military-short, and his blue eyes popping from his fine-boned face. His cheekbones were now as sharp as razor blades where before they had clung to the roundness of childhood, and his handshake was both firm and callused.

“My grown-up soldier boy,” his mother had said, patting his tall shoulder. His father had died while he was away. Heart trouble; it ran in the family.

And for three weeks, it had all been well.

But then Little Mary snuck up on him, hiding behind his door and then throwing her thin arms around his neck.

“Don’t!” he said, “don’t!” and flung his wrist into her chin. Little Mary fell with a cry, clutching her face, while Jimmy sat where he had stood, silent and unseeing.

“Jimmy,” his mother had said, but he did not look up and he did not speak for long minutes.

“Jimmy,” said Little Mary, still crying, and his head snapped up.

“Oh, Mary,” he said, his blue, blue eyes widening. “Oh, Mary, I’m so sorry.”

Little Mary did not hold a grudge, because she never did, but he felt the wary eyes of his mother on him and he shuddered.

“Don’t cry,” she said. “It’s not becoming of a grown man like you. You’re back, with all your legs and arms and thoughts.”

“Don’t worry,” said Little Mary in his ear, when their mother had retreated from his stricken stare. “Everyone cries.”

And they cried on each other’s shoulders, Jimmy and his little sister.

-

“Jim!” said Sarah, who had once been his fiancée. “Jim!”

“Hello,” Jimmy said, feeling bewildered. Her hair was as long and red as always, her smile as wide and her skin as pale, but his heart didn’t flutter at the sight of her.

She took his hand in both her own, small and pale and slender, her nails even brighter than her hair. His arm tried to shake but he stilled it with all of his concentration.

Sarah’s mouth was moving, and the nonstop musical run of her voice grated on Jimmy’s nerves. “Please,” he said, and grabbed his hand away. “I’m sorry,” he said to the look on her face. “I have to go. Errands to run.”

Next thing he heard, Sarah was going out with Michael Trichteart, who had a bum knee and had never been out of the country.

-

Little Mary sighed. “Don’t worry, Jimmy,” she said, as their mother hollered up the stairs. “Don’t pay attention to her. She’s just tired.”

She always was, now, and Jimmy felt awful, but he couldn’t help it. He would suddenly be back, back with the shouting and the hate and the putrid stink of war. And it would not let him go.