Back to Yesterday (15 page)

How could she, though? Even I had trouble understanding the depths of my admiration.

While walking her home, I had things I needed to say to her and kept waiting for a point of entry where I could interrupt, but alas, she continued to talk about this and about that.

And I…well…I continued to give her my undivided attention.

When we made it to her house she surprised me by inviting me in for dinner.

“My mom made meatloaf. You should stay and have some.”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have invited you if I wasn’t. Come in,” she said, opening the door. “I’ll let Mom know we need to set an extra plate.”

My lips were tipping upwards again. I had no control over my own face. “Should I wait here for you?” I asked, still standing in the entryway.

“Don’t be silly.” She pointed to the sofa. “Go have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

Visions of a sad and lonely Sophie entered my mind as I sat down on the couch, but I flicked those images away, and replaced them with the vision of her now, preferring the happier, care-free girl that I had just walked home.

“Charlie,” Mr. McCormick said, sitting down across from me. “It’s nice to see you again. How are you?”

“I’m good. And you, sir?”

“Can’t complain. Staying for dinner?”

“I am, if that’s okay. Sophie invited me.”

“Of course it’s okay. It’ll save me from having to eat leftover meatloaf tomorrow. You’d be doing me a favor.” He slapped my knee with a rolled up newspaper and grinned.

I chuckled. “Not a fan of meatloaf?”

Mr. McCormick’s face contorted, like a child forced to eat peas. “I’m not a fan of the onions she puts in it. She says she doesn’t, but I can always taste them.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Sophie called.

I followed Mr. McCormick into the kitchen where Sophie and her mother were already sitting at the kitchen table.

“Charlie, you can sit next to Sophie,” Mrs. McCormick said. Once I settled in, she went on to say, “Would you like some potatoes?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” I also added green beans to my plate, along with a chunk of meatloaf. There were definitely onions in it. When I looked up, I saw the same contorted look on Mr. McCormick’s face when he took a bite and I had to work extra hard to keep from laughing.

A few minutes passed with only the sounds of metal forks scraping ceramic plates as we ate. It wasn’t uncomfortably quiet. It was peaceful actually. I enjoyed the quiet time because I had a lot on my mind and was still looking for the perfect time to let Sophie know what I had decided when her mother opened up the avenue to discuss it by asking, “So, Charlie, how is your physical therapy going?”

I cleared my throat. “Actually, I’m finished with it. I got my doctor’s release today.”

“Oh? So does that mean you’ll be leaving soon?”

Sophie shifted in her seat. Before, I had told her I wanted to get back to flying once my leg healed, and I knew what she was thinking – that I was about to leave her. I wasn’t, so I spoke up quickly.

“No, ma’am.”

Sophie’s head snapped up from her plate. “But I thought–”

“No,” I said again. “I put in a request for a permanent transfer from a combat unit to a support unit. I was granted permission to stay stateside. Here, more specifically. Where I’m needed.” I made sure I was looking into Sophie’s eyes when I said it.

“So you’re not…you’re not leaving? You’re staying here?”

“I’m staying here.”

Sophie’s chin quivered slightly. She sat motionless for a few moments, staring at her partially eaten dinner, looking like she was absorbing the information and what that meant for her – for me – for
us
.

Sophie’s parents both looked to each other and then their eyes simultaneously landed on their daughter. They both appeared happy to hear the news, but everyone was waiting for Sophie to say something.

After another long moment she finally spoke. “Say it again.” She looked up, stared at me with misty eyes. “Say it again.”

“I’m staying here.”

“Again.”

“I’m staying here.”

“One more time.”

“Sophie,” I leaned over and placed my hand over hers. “I’m staying here.”

She threw her arms around me. “My wish came true,” she said. “I finally got a wish to come true.”

I found myself holding her once again. I would make all of her wishes come true if holding her was the reward. More than anything I wanted to tell her why I’d decided to stay, why I couldn’t leave her, but I didn’t. Mr. McCormick had told me in confidence about Sophie’s biological father and I wouldn’t violate his trust. Besides, did it really matter? The point was I wasn’t leaving and that was all she really needed to know. I was in love with her and she needed me, so I was staying. Enough said.

Silence fell around the dinner table once more, until Mr. McCormick spoke up.

“I’m telling you there are onions in this meatloaf.”

My chest rumbled with laughter and the rumbling grew until my sides hurt and I could hardly catch my breath. I wasn’t the only one. We were all laughing like loons. It was one of those healing kinds of laughter. What was that proverb?

The body heals with play, the mind heals with laughter, and the spirit heals with joy.

Yeah, I definitely believed that.

Later that night, after I left Sophie’s house and was making my way back home, I made a wish of my own, not necessarily for me, but for anyone who might need it. This was wartime after all.

May the roads we travel never lead us astray, but if by chance we lose our way, may the echoes of laughter guide us back home some day.

I
was lying in bed, unable to fall asleep, when I heard pinging sounds bouncing off my bedroom window. At first, I thought it was the wind brushing a tree branch against the glass so I ignored it until the sounds became more persistent.

ting…

ting…

ting…

Getting to my feet, I moved to the window and swept the curtains back. Charlie was down below, illuminated only by the soft glow of the streetlamp.

“Charlie!” I whisper shouted. “What are you doing here? It’s after midnight.”

Even from my second story view I could see how his eyes brightened at the sight of me and then the light in his eyes extinguished.

“Sophie,” he said. “I…can you come down?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Can you come down?” His voice trembled. “Please?”

I looked over my shoulder and listened for any sounds that would indicate my parents were still up. I heard nothing. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right there.”

I grabbed the robe draped across the foot of the bed and slipped it over my nightgown, making sure the tie was securely fastened at the waist and then stepped into my slippers. Careful not to make any noise, I made it to the front door, eased it open, and gently closed it behind me. Charlie stared down at the ground, hands in his pockets, oblivious to my presence.

“Charlie?”

He lifted his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, defeat in his voice. “I-I know it’s late, but I didn’t know where else to go.”

The cool breeze seeped into my thin clothing and I huddled into myself. “What’s wrong?”

The look on his face was wounded, like a lost boy. The strong man I knew him to be dissipated right before my eyes. He approached me and I met him halfway and touched the sleeve of his shirt. He had been crying. His cheeks were marked with tears and my heart took a tumble.

“What’s the matter, Charlie?”

He shook his head. “This isn’t real…this isn’t real,” he said over and over again.

“What’s not real?”

“He isn’t dead. He can’t be.” I reached around him and hugged him to me as tightly as I could. “He isn’t dead…he isn’t dead…he isn’t dead…”

I cupped his face in my hands. His eyes were swimming in grief. Then his entire body began to tremble.

“Tell me he isn’t dead, Sophie.”

I wanted to be strong, to hold him up, keep him safe, undo whatever awful thing had happened, but the sight of Charlie falling apart in my arms was too much. I crumbled too. I no longer wanted to know what brought him to my house in the middle of the night, bereaved and heartsick. I didn’t want him to say the name that I knew clung to the tip of his tongue.

“Don’t say it,” I urged. “Don’t tell me. Don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me.”

I had no idea who was holding who at that point. His entire body shook violently, and mine quaked and wobbled as though the ground beneath us was unstable.

“God, please tell me it’s not real!” he cried.

The funeral was exactly one week ago, but Charlie asked me to come with him today, and so I did. I remained silent while he spoke to Tank’s headstone, speaking to him as if he was still alive. There was even one point when I felt I was eavesdropping on a private conversation.

“Tell your brother he still owes me his guitar from when I beat him at poker. Just because he died doesn’t mean he’s off the hook.” He chuckled halfheartedly. “I should have told you while you were here to get it for me but…” His voice wobbled and I could tell he was trying to keep it together. Clearing his throat he said, “I don’t know how to play it anyway so...”

I wandered off to give Charlie some privacy. The weather was pleasant so I strolled to a field beyond the cemetery and listened to the songbirds off in the distance. The life that was abundant all around me made it easy to forget that death was only a few feet away. I must have stood there for a half-hour, perhaps longer, thinking, absorbing, and contemplating life’s biggest questions when I heard Charlie’s voice.

“Male birds,” he said coming up behind me.

“What?”

He pointed to the trees that outlined the field and said, “The birds, they’re male.”

“How do you know that?”

“Female birds typically use shorter, simpler calls, while male birds have a longer and more complex sound, like a
song.
The male birds sing to the females.” He chuckled. “That’s how they get the girl.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Is that right? And where did you stumble upon that bit of knowledge?”

“My mother told me. I’d like to think she was brilliant so I never questioned it. I just accepted it as fact.”