Beyond The Ghosts (Legacy Falls Project) (13 page)

Megan looked between Christina and I, who just shrugged her shoulders and smiled back at her. "Two by two, got it." She grabbed our menus and left us alone. 

"She thinks I'm kidding. Get ready, Christina, it's about to go down."

We donned our bibs and our waitress returned with our drinks and two cups of Shrimp Bisque. 

"Mmm, this is so good," Christina moaned, drawing her spoon out of her mouth.

"This is one of my favorite places to eat."

"Do they always have all you can eat lobster?"

"Not that I know of. It just happened to be a bonus today."

"Why is this your favorite? Beaumount? You come here a lot?"

"We get equipment shipped through here. I have had to come and claim my platoon and unit's containers before and put them on the rail car and ship them over to Fort Hood. Some of the more sensitive cargo we would drive back personally."

"So, this is old stomping grounds for you?"

"I guess you can say that. The truck stop across the way has enough room to accommodate a motor pool of large vehicles. This place is much better than truck stop food or anything the military can pack in a box lunch."

"I will take your word on that one. The bisque is great. Usually, it's just pink colored and shrimp flavored, but this is so chunky."

"I usually get the catfish platter, but who can resist all you can eat lobster? That is a no brainer."

We spent the better part of an hour and a half eating lobster after lobster, demolishing our huge sour-cream-covered baked potatoes and bowls of coleslaw. While we waited for our next crustaceans to arrive to meet their demise, we sucked the life out of their hot, red, thin legs. Megan was an attentive waitress and didn’t keep us waiting long for anything including endless refills of sweet tea while bringing round after round of lobsters two at a time. 

"If we are ever gonna get to Fort Hood, we have to get moving," I said as I stuffed yet another succulent lobster tail in my mouth after dipping it in the clarified butter warmer. 

"I don't know if I can move," Christina moaned. 

I counted the lobster carcasses in the scrap bowl and it totaled eighteen. Between us, we ate eighteen pound-and-a-half lobsters. We killed a small crustacean family, and I felt no guilt. I counted in my head the miles left to drive, and we still had a good five hours without hitting any traffic. 

"Come on, Munchkin. If we don’t get back on the road, it will be dark when we get in."

"But it's so good. I'm so full."

"I know, I could probably eat at least two more, but one of us has to drive."

When I saw our waitress, I flagged her down for our check. Our meals came with dessert, but we took it to go. The chocolate cake would be a nice snack on the road a little later on. 

By the time we were a few miles down the interstate again, Christina was fast asleep in my lap. She tucked the shoulder strap of her seatbelt behind her, flipped the console up, and laid her head in my lap. Her warm breath heated my leg, and it kept me more awake and alert than I needed to be. I tried to think of what I was going to say for Goemans' eulogy. It served as a distraction, but I would have much rather thought of happier things and my anxiety grew making my leg shake unconsciously rousing Christina every once in a while. So, my cuticles took the brunt of my anxiety instead. 

Admittedly, I didn't know much about Goemans outside of his service in the military. I tried to think of anecdotes or personal interactions to share, but I kept reverting back to his record of service. As a Sergeant, there were many men under my command, but he was not directly under me, so our interactions were minimal except chow and large functions with the entire unit.

My crew of three E-4s were the operations platoon while Goemans and Pierson were in the launcher platoon. As a NCO, we didn’t bunk in the same ConX and mine was on the other side of our station. One memory came flooding back of movie night at the USO tent. They rigged up a screen and projected
Rocky Horror Picture Show
nearly as big as a drive-in but the sound sucked. 

Only men sitting right next to the speaker could hear any of the dialogue and strained to hear the music but Goemans took on the role of Rocky. Fashioning his Alice belt with some paracord and jacking up his PT shorts, he strutted around and narrated word for word. He finally coerced Pierson into participating and he took the role of the more subdued Riff Raff, which matched his broody personality. 

With the movie running in the background, Goemans, Pierson, and a few randy others acted out the cult classic. It was a great evening in the middle of a war zone. As soldiers loosened up, they jumped to the left and stepped to the right picking up the Time Warp dance quickly under Goemans and Pierson's lead. It’s funny the odd things we remember about people once they are gone. At first, I could hardly place him, but as I pulled into the parking lot of The Highland Hotel humming “Science Fiction Double Feature” what I would say on behalf of Goemans became a little clearer. 

At first, I wasn't sure I was in the right place. While the neon sign clearly stated The Highlander Hotel, the building looked like it could have served as the set for
Pee
Wee's
Playhouse
. I should have known better than to let Christina book the hotel, but she said she had travel points or something. The place looked like it was decorated by hipster drag queens and nothing made sense. The bright colors glared even as the setting sun caused the skies to dim.

I had never seen a place like it and lord knows I had visited some exotic locations. Random pink sheep speckled the landscape, hallways, and one sat on the roof adjacent to the neon sign. We grabbed our bags, and I loaded them on a valet cart and proceeded to the concierge desk. 

A slight-framed pale woman, possibly Albino with brilliant sapphire eyes that were a sharp contrast to her alabaster skin and platinum hair, sat perched on a tall stool at the desk.  She cocked her head to the side and stared at me. Her hotel name plate read "Mei" but she didn't say a word.

"Um, Mei, we are here to check in. Toledo?" 

She smiled wide and extended her small hand for a shake. Her skin was cool to the touch and smooth like marble. She hopped down off of the stool and nearly disappeared behind the desk. She was shorter than Christina by a few inches. She popped back up with registration paperwork that was preprinted with our information from the online reservation site and was dotted with little 'please sign here' flags. She handed me a hot pink pen and slid the paperwork in front of me. 

When all the flags were matched with my signature and she swiped my credit card, she handed me two small portfolios with hot pink sheep and the hotel logo on the front with our room keys within.  Mei hopped down from her perch once again and came around to the front side of the desk. It was unusual for Christina to look down at anyone and her smile was evidence of her amusement. Mei held out her hand to her and led us to the elevator bay pushing the signal button before leaving us.

Our rooms were across the hall from each other. Pierson had already checked in, and his ruck sack sat on the bed in the rear of the room closest to the bathroom. He must have been out and about, probably at Mrs. Goemans' home. As Christina settled in her room, I unpacked my uniforms to air them out and avoid any wrinkles. 

My mom had washed and pressed my shirt and pants after the Pleasant Street Station dedication ceremony. I took my jacket out of the garment bag and checked all my ribbons and pins for proper placement, adjusting them from the jumbles of transit. Thank goodness for non-smoking room policies. At least I wouldn't have to worry about smelling like an ashtray from Pierson's smoking. I placed the canvas bag that held my patent-leather dress shoes in it at the bottom of the closet beneath my waiting uniform and sighed.
How many of these funerals will I attend?

One flight back from Jordan we were on the same plane as caskets. Ten flag-covered caskets lined the cargo bay. There was no first class seating, there was no in-flight movie. It was a long flight back stateside and besides onboarding procedures and announcements for landing, it was the quietest flight of my life. I still don't like to fly, but would gladly listen to a gurgling or crying baby than stare at flag-lined caskets for hours. 

Pierson showed up a short while later, and we grabbed Christina from her room and headed to the local Subway for some sandwiches. I was still sated from lunch but knew the next day would be a long one so eating was necessary. One thing I learned in the military was never to waste time that could be spent sleeping or eating.

After dinner, we went back to our respective rooms and Pierson was snoring before I had my boots off. God bless—the man could sleep through a war, literally. I crawled into my bed in my PT shorts and laid staring at the stained ceiling tiles and revolving ceiling fan. I wondered if Christina was sleeping. I tossed and turned and tried to clear my head of the turmoil of thoughts. As Pierson sawed wood, I realized I didn't want to be in that room with him. I wanted to be across the hall with Christina, the woman who could keep my nightmares at bay. 

I slipped into my shower shoes and pulled one of my unit t-shirts over my head before grabbing my room key and slipping out into the hallway. I rapped softly on her door. I didn't want to startle her out of bed but I wanted her to answer the door. I waited to hear any moment from within her room. I rapped again after a few moments of silence and heard the squeak of the bed and the plodding of her feet on the floor. 

"Who is it?" There was no peephole on the door, but I saw the curtain pull back from the pane of glass along the doorjamb, and Christina peeked up at me. 

She quickly opened the door and stood with her arms crossed covering her chest and Vernon College t-shirt. Her shapely legs held her upright as she leaned against the hotel room door. "Is everything okay?"

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure, come on." She took steps back and allowed me to pass letting the door close behind her. "What's going on?"

"I wanted to be near you."

"I'm right here." I hugged her tight against me and she unfurled her arms and wrapped them around my waist. We stood wrapped in each other’s' arms in silence before Christina got antsy. "You're worrying me. What is wrong?"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not hurting me. You're not making any sense right now. Please explain."

"Can we lay down?" I guided us to the bed and crawled in, lifting the blankets for her to join me beneath them. I wrapped her in my arms and she laid her head on my chest and played with the peach fuzz of hair on my chest.

"What's on your mind, Peter?"

"You are. I want to sleep, just like this, but it scares the shit out of me."

"What are you so afraid of?"

"I want to be able to be with you, like this, and not worry about nightmares."

"I'm not scared of you."

"You should be," I said flatly. "If I tell you something, promise you won't get all upset?"

"I will try, but you can't tell someone not to get upset. It's setting me up for failure."

"When we had sex, I didn't have any nightmares for the first time in a long time. You keep the ghosts away."

She lay quiet and breathless against my chest for a long minute. I grew nervous and anxious when she didn't move or respond to my statement. I hugged her tighter and her exhale snapped her out of her silence. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to upset you. I couldn't think of a softer way of saying it but it's true."

Christina took a deep breath and exhaled long and slow before looking up at me, holding my cheek in her small hand. "Then let's live beyond the ghosts."

She crawled up my body, straddling my waist, peppering my face with kisses. Her warm core ground against the thin layer of my shorts and my growing erection pulsed against her mound. 

"I swear I didn't come here for sex. I couldn't sleep."

"And I want you to sleep with me. So, let's work on it, together."

I didn't remember falling asleep or where my body stopped and hers began, but I woke up in her arms the next morning, nightmare free.

My turn at the podium during Goemans' service arrived, and suddenly, I was faced with a room full of faces and remembered I wasn't so good at public speaking. It wasn't like I could open with a joke at his funeral. 

"My name is Sergeant First Class Peter Toledo, United States Army. I served with Specialist Goemans on more than one deployment. I thought a lot about what I would say about Goemans, um, Chris, and it was a challenge. He had been a part of my unit but I never got to know him personally. Unlike some of the others who have spoken already and ones who will follow, I have spent the better part of the last three years with this man and had to think of what to say, and I was disappointed in myself. 

“As a leader, I have guided these men on missions and they have followed orders as served, as outstanding soldiers. Goemans was no different. He completed his tasks, and at the time of his death was doing just that, getting the job done. Goemans brought life and laughter to our unit and every memory I do have was him entertaining and boosting morale of his fellow soldiers. In the most stressful of situations, he never lost his smile or his sense of humor.