Black and White
By Lloyd Hawes
It is pitch black, but I can’t open my eyes. Maybe they are already open and wherever
I am, no light is available. Am I awake or still asleep?
Black fades to gray. A figure coming into focus stands at the table. I recognize
Mom. Her light brown hair, with streaks absent of color, rests on her shoulders. A
smile is held between her chubby cheeks. She is saying something to me, but I can’t
hear her. I too am smiling. At least I think I am. What is that on the table? A
birthday cake.
A warm feeling overwhelms me. It fills my being. What is it? Love? Admiration?
I see Mom’s back as she exits the kitchen door. I am alone. The warm feeling is
replaced by a cold, empty panic. Mom, why did you abandon me? Don’t you love me
anymore?
I open the same door Mom just walked through and I see Jimmy, my brother, running
from the backyard tree. The tire swing tied to a thick branch slowly pendulates.
His ten year old body comes towards me. This must be a dream since I know he is at
least 25 now. My conflicted childhood feelings toward him fill the space left empty
by Mom’s exit – pride, jealousy, our brotherly bond.
As the boy gets closer to me, I notice the face is not Jimmy’s. It is that of an
Afghan boy. He is dressed in rags of brown and faded purple and burnt orange. The
ache in his hollow eyes haunts me. He looks like he has been crying. Ten feet from
me, he explodes into a thousand pieces, chunks of flesh and blood and bone splatter
against my chest and neck. I feel something the consistency of pudding on my cheek.
I can’t isolate the pain. It is all consuming. I am blinded by the white light.
Are my eyes closed?
I hear Emily, my wife, talking to me. The first sounds I have heard in what seems
like an eternity. I can’t see her, but I know she is with me: telling me she loves
me and that she will miss me and I need to be careful.
Her shape emerges out of the whiteness. She lies on the bed. I can see the beach
of Maui out the hotel window. It is just like our honeymoon. I see her smile, her
bright eyes, and her strong chin. Of all things, I notice her chin. She is mouthing
words, but I cannot hear her over the roar of the surf wafting in through the
window.
I am doing it for you, I tell her. I am doing it for Josh. I have to do it. Tears
well up in her eyes. Not tears of sorrow, but of pride. She knows me.
This pain of the whiteness is going to kill me.
I hear mumblings with an urgent edge. The operating room of the evac hospital
comes into focus. Who is that on the operating table with tubes running in and
out of him or her? Masked personnel are running around the little machines on
stands making electronic bips and beeps.
I notice it is only a torso on the table. Arms and legs are amiss. Blood is
everywhere. Tendons with pieces of meat hang off the stubs of what remains of
the limbs. The blood flow from the stumps is reduced to a trickle by the
tourniquets. I know this person. Is he from my unit?
Hang in there buddy. Don’t give up.
Dirt and dust covers everything. There is no more windshield wiper fluid in the
reserve. I have to stick my head out the side window to see where I am driving
the Humvee. No trees, no buildings, just rocks and dirt and a poorly maintained
road which I am trying to navigate. I feel the sting of sand striking my face.
Thank goodness for the goggles.
Watson is in the passenger seat looking at a map and barking directions. I don’t
know why, there is only the one road.
His head bursts from a sniper hit.
I stop and exit the vehicle, drawing my weapon. IED’s are probably all over the
road here. No sense trying to drive away.
As I radio my position and request assistance, I see a small figure running down
the road towards me.
Shit.
Smitty is sitting next to me at the bar. My best friend since the sixth grade
sheds tears of sorrow. He wants to understand, but can’t.
In his beat up Nova, we are driving home from the Dixie Chicks concert. Ronda is
in the passenger seat. Maggie and I are in the back seat – half naked. The four
of us decided to see the concert after the graduation ceremony rather than go
with the rest of our High School class to some stupid amusement park. And, we
are very glad we did. Ronda gives Maggie and I a glance of disapproval. Smitty
laughs and winks at us in the rearview mirror. It’s funny how Maggie and Smitty
ended up together after I met Emily.
The smell of Christmas pine takes over me. I can see Dad, very happy with the
Craftsmen tool set we gave him. Jimmy has a smile the size of the Grand Canyon
as Mom takes a picture of him with the bike Santa brought this year. I am happy
.
Beeeeeep. All the little machines have flat green lines across their faces. Each
medic of the team pulls down his or her mask exposing their expressions of futility
and desperation. The tones emanating from the little machines, one by one, become
silent as a medic slowly flips the off switches. Finally, complete silence.
I feel for the soldier on the table. He gave his life for my family. Who is it?
Can’t be Watson, he has no head. A nurse pulls off the oxygen mask and through
the red grime, I recognize my face.
The white pain ceases and blackness encroaches on me. The void is filled with
nothingness.
Good-bye Mom, Jimmy, Emily, and Josh. Good-bye Smitty, Dad, and Maggie. And,
even a good-bye to you Ronda. I did it for you.
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