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Authors: Michael Poeltl

BOOK: Rebirth
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Chapter Fifty Two

 

It had been two days since I’d heard from Jeff and I was becoming increasingly alarmed at the signals I was receiving. Every time our eyes met out in the openness of the parade grounds or in the crowded mess hall, he looked away. My heart fell sickeningly to the pit of my stomach each time. That he might have regretted our actions, gone back to his wife, told her he loved her and had decided to stay.

 

I had been on such a high the first day after our encounter. I had let him have his space while he decided on how to go about telling his wife, but had I pushed him away by not letting him break it off that same night? Did he think I didn’t want to break up his unhappy home? I needed to talk to him, to tell him again that I loved him and convince him to do what was right for him. If that meant telling his wife everything and making a clean break to be with me then I had to believe that was the right thing to do. I deserved happiness too.

 

I was sipping coffee while sitting outside the hospital building between duties. Shielding my eyes against the sun, which had been burning up the clouds during the past week, I noticed Jeff strolling cautiously across the grounds towards me. I smiled automatically and thought I saw a smile on his face in return.

 

“Let’s talk,” he said abruptly, passing me on the bench and opening the door for me to enter.

 

My heart trembled and my stomach churned. My face sank as I passed through the open door and followed him down the familiar hallways and into the mess hall. He positioned us in an isolated corner. There were a handful of people milling about the hall. We didn’t look out of place, but I felt very uncomfortable.

 

Standing across from him, I kept my head lowered. I found it difficult to look at him, hoping that if I didn’t, I wouldn’t read the bad news I feared he had come to give me. Then his hand was on my chin, lifting my head. I kept my eyes closed.

 

“Open your eyes, Sara. Please.”

 

Tears escaped down my cheeks as I opened my eyes. His were hard, and all my fears were realized. My body shook uncontrollably and he took notice. I couldn’t stop it. I was fighting the overwhelming urge to cry.

 

“Sara,” he started, then paused. “Sara, please. You were right.”

 

My teeth began to chatter, my chin quivering. The blood in my head pounded against my eyes, forcing more tears. Had I somehow convinced him to do the mindful thing and not follow his heart?

 

“Sara.” He was reluctant to put his hands on me again for fear that the others in the hall might notice. I battled valiantly against crying out. My neck stiffened and a lump in my throat muted any attempt I might have made to speak. “Sara, please.” He was embarrassed now by my inability to control my emotional response.

 

I wiped my face and sucked in a deep breath. I exhaled slowly and opened my stinging eyes. His expression oozed compassion.

 

“I love you,” he whispered.

 

“But?” I managed, knowing full well something would follow.

 

“There’s no ‘but’ about it, Sara. I love you.” He paused. “And I love my wife.” That was just as good as a ‘but’ to me. Where would I fit into that equation?

 

“You were right; she deserves more of an answer for my behavior. So do you.” He leaned back and pushed his fingers through his short dark hair. “I’m confused.”

 

“I’m in love,” I said defiantly. “I’m in love with you, Jeff.”

 

“And I’m in love with you, Sara.”

 

“But,” I said again, swallowing hard.

 

“Okay, listen, this is impossibly difficult for me, Sara. Yes, ‘but’. But I love my wife. I went home after we – after, and there she was with the kids watching a movie and I realized I was not so unhappy. Not so much to ruin a whole family for my own selfish happiness.”

 

“What about my happiness?”

 

“We can still be happy, Sara.”

 

My brows met in the middle, confusion bubbling from within.

 

“I won’t be a mistress.” I blurted. I didn’t want to sneak around, stealing a kiss or making love in secret. I would never get over the guilt of it. If he made a clean break, everyone could heal.

 

“What? No, I don’t want that either. I want a solution. But I couldn’t, can’t do that.”

 

“You did that already,” I hissed.

 

“Yes, and I’m ashamed of it.”

 

That was not what I wanted to hear.

 

“Then I guess we have nothing left to talk about.” I couldn’t imagine a more hurtful thing to say. With what little dignity I could muster, I left the mess hall, Jeff seated in the wooden chair. I didn’t look back. I had been derailed from what truly mattered. My son, and his development into something great. That was my purpose here. I would never let my own petty desires for happiness intrude on that again.

 

Chapter Fifty Three

 

The following week I made every effort to avoid the Sergeant while he made every attempt to find me. I found endlessly new and inventive ways of eluding his advances. I threw myself into teaching Leif the lessons I’d learned during my time with the old women in the bunker. It was all at once beneficial to both him and my state of mind. I spoke to the Blank Man, taking encouragement and information from him and relaying it to my son.

 

Spending so much time with Leif made me happy again. He had always been a source of happiness in my life. I’d look at him and I’d smile. It was just that simple. It was difficult to be depressed with a child who depended on your mood for their own comfort.

 

We visited the greenhouse twice a day and I let him sit with the Chaplain for hours at a time. He learned something new about the natural world every day and shared it with me over dinner. He also found comfort in the Chaplain’s spiritual knowledge, pressing for more, asking questions and challenging him on his faith. The Chaplain was happy to engage Leif, and found their conversations very gratifying. One day in the greenhouse he confided in me that their conversations were as helpful for him as they were for Leif.

 

“It helps me understand my own faith when I can discuss it with someone as bright and curious as Leif,” the Chaplain explained to me. “He is an extraordinary boy, Sara. He has questions that go far beyond his years.”

 

“Leif has an old soul,” was all I could reply. I wasn’t sure if a man of God, based in Christianity, would ascribe to the idea of reincarnation.

 

“An old soul,” he repeated. “That’s an interesting concept. Not exactly what I preach. One soul, one life, one chance. That’s the God I know.”

 

“Is it limiting for you?” I asked.

 

“Was it for you when you believed?”

 

“I guess not. At least, not after the bombs fell.”

 

“When did you lose your faith, Sara?”

 

“I don’t like to say I lost my faith. It just evolved along with my experiences.”

 

“It changed to suit your needs?”

 

I smiled up at him, his dark features thoughtfully smiling back at me.

 

“You know, I almost want to tell you a big secret,” I nodded. “To get your take on it.”

 

His eyes brightened. “But?”

 

“Well, the secret’s really not mine to tell.” My eyes fell to the cement floor which was slowly being overtaken by a crawling vine of some design.

 

“I won’t press you, Sara. If you feel I could benefit you by telling me, you will.”

 

“You’re Catholic, so if I told you, you couldn’t tell anyone else?”

 

“That’s right. My confessional is absolute.” He stopped and turned to face me. I stopped too to meet his gaze. “Sara, if you want to come see me tonight, I will sit with you and listen. If you’d like me to comment I will and if not, I will remain silent.”

 

“I’ll consider it.” It would be nice to have an accomplice in Leif’s on-going education. The Chaplain placed a hand on my shoulder and grinned widely.

 

“You let me know. It doesn’t have to be tonight. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“Thanks.” We walked towards where Leif and another boy were watching the fish dart back and forth in the raised pond as they flicked the waters’ surface with their little fingers.

 

*****

 

That night, at dinner Leif questioned me about my conversation with the Chaplain.

 

“What were you talking about, Mom?”

 

“Oh, just the same kind of stuff the two of you discuss.” I stacked our trays together and placed them on the neighboring table. I looked around and I could see Jeff and his family behind us. My face hardened as I turned back to my son. It had been excruciating being trapped in such close proximity to the man who had broken my heart, his wife, and his children. I had even thought about leaving. My primary concern was of course Leif and he was the only thing that kept me here. But every day I saw Jeff, the thought again reentered my head. Leif could apparently tell from the crease in my brow that I was preoccupied.

 

“Do you want to tell Chaplain about Blank Man?”

 

Jesus, was he reading minds now? I leaned into him and lowered my voice.

 

“What would you think of that, Leif? Would you want him to know?”

 

“I think he already knows actually.” He finished the last of his granola bar and threw the packaging onto the trays.

 

“He knows? You told him?”

 

“No, I didn’t tell him. But I have a feeling he knows. It’s like he can sometimes see him, ‘cause sometimes Blank Man sits with us when we’re talking and gives me questions to ask.”

 

“What makes you think the Chaplain can see Blank Man?”

 

“Sometimes he goes like this.” Leif squished up his face, his nose shrinking as his cheeks rose and eyes squinted. “And looks in Blank Man’s direction.”

 

That was interesting.

 

“But Blank Man says not to tell.”

 

I looked up turning in my seat.

 

“He’s not here, Mom. He’s just saying it in my head.”

 

“Okay, honey. We’ll follow Blank Man’s instructions then.”

 

“You like him now, huh?” A mischievous smile crept across his rosy cheeks. His head nodded as though answering his own question.

 

“Oh, yeah, we’re like this now,” I said with a smile, my fingers crossing. Leif smiled brightly and a giggle escaped his lips. I in turn snorted and we both started laughing. It was the kind of laughter that escalates the more you look at one another. People in the mess hall turned and looked, but this only made us laugh harder. Jeff was watching but I didn’t care.

 

The muscles in my face ached after laughing so hard. I hadn’t laughed like that in a very long time. I knew I had been wearing a frown almost every moment I wasn’t with Leif. But right now I felt alive, and I would relish that moment in days to come.

 

*****

 

With the passing of another week I felt a little lighter. Time was healing my broken heart. I knew I couldn’t feel this way forever. I had managed through my first love’s death and this would be no different.

 

Leif was progressing brilliantly, becoming obsessed with meditation, taking a half hour three times a day to sit cross-legged, straight backed quietly humming to himself. How an eight-year-old had the patience for something most adults didn’t have the patience to do I’d never know. I chalked it up to Leif being something special, something more. Just like the witches had prophesied. Like Blank Man had told me. Leif was going to be great.

 

It was in this state I found him one evening in our bunk room, seated on his bed, humming, eyes closed. But this time he did not break the meditation after his half hour was up. Nor did he break it at the hour mark. At two hours I became concerned.

 

“Leif,” I said quietly from my bed, looking up from behind my book. “Leif, it’s time to go to sleep, honey.”

 

Nothing.

 

“Leif I need you to stop your meditation and go to sleep now.” I put the book down and stood. “Sweetie, it’s time for bed.”

 

He did not acknowledge me at all. I gently placed a hand on his shoulder but was forced to snap it back. The electrical shock that I received was heart stopping. Amazingly, Leif did not budge. I positioned a hand above his head, afraid to touch him again. As my palm approached his crown, the hair on his head all stood on end.

 

“Leif,” I continued, worried by this bizarre reaction. “You need to snap out of it, honey, please.” I sat next to him and looked at his face. His expression exuded an absolute calm, the low rumble of his humming was hypnotic. I was careful not to touch him again but ached to hold him.

 

The humming got louder. Within a few seconds it was so loud I had to cover my ears. I got up and stepped outside the open door into the hall. I was scared to death at what was transpiring. There was no one in the hall to help me. I turned back to my son from the door way, his face glowing, radiating, and suddenly, as quickly as it had escalated, the humming slowed and with it the volume. I cautiously stepped back into the dimly lit room. Suddenly his eyes opened, the pupils tiny, as though he’d been in a very bright place far too long. I rushed to his side but stopped short of hugging him. I reached out a hand and it hovered. Something was pushing me back. We were like two magnets repelling each other. I could not get any closer to Leif. My palms felt hot and I pulled away. “What’s happening!” I gasped, falling to my knees.

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