We were lying around on the weekend. The soldier has various scars, some of them have been “removed”.  Apparently they laser the scars off somehow either because they hurt or they are unsightly but in whatever case the subject came up.

“The worst one was on the back of my knee,” he said.  “Saturn”, I thought. “Yeah, this one here was the worst, I think you can still see it. I can feel it,” he said reaching under his knee as he was lying down.

“Let me see that,” I said, I was sitting up on the bed.  I reached under his leg and turned it. I felt what was left of the scar with my hand and he looked embarrassed. “I want to see this thing,” I said, positioning myself to I could lift his whole leg up from the ankle and peer at the scar dramatically.  “I see,” I said.  “Well that is a bad scar. You were in the hospital for that weren’t you?  And nobody came?”

“Yeah, I was in the hospital and no, no one showed up,” he said as if this was usual for soldiers and he’d seen it a million times.

“Well I’d have come there for sure, seeing as your leg was half blown off, that’s what this looks like to me. Yeah, I’d have been there all right and I’d have taken one look at this…” I lifted his leg again to peer at the scar, “I’d have taken one look at this, uh… blood on your leg and I’d have said, that’s it! No more! You are quitting this shit, you are not going back out. You are staying home now so you won’t be killed!”

His eyes flinched, his face swirled and then settle and I sighed.  “Damn you,” I said. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, oh no my wife won’t let me go back out. You’re going to maneuver.  Well you son of a bitch. I’m upset about your leg and all you’re thinking is oh crap, how am I going to maneuver ’round this obstacle that is my wife and get my ass back out in the field. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”

He looked positivity embarrassed. “I’m not thinking that!” he said, lying through his teeth. “P, I am not thinking that, I am NOT thinking that.”

“You are thinking that. Oh shit. I should not have called her.  I should not have told her about this. I like her but shit!  Now she is blocking me from my war and I have a problem.”

“Now, P, I would not think that.”

“You’re thinking it right now,” I said with a sigh. “How can I get this woman off my leg. Look. I can see it on your face. It is all over your face.”

“There is nothing on my face,” he said.

“Bullshit. I know you want to go fight. I don’t know why you bother to lie to me because I always know when you do.  Your lip gets a sheen,” I explained, touching his bottom lip.  “Yeah, there is a sheen on your bottom lip. It’s unmistakable and once it’s there, i know you’re full of shit, it betrays your emotion. See that sheen and your face swirlin’ around and I know you’re angling. You’re up to something.”

“P, you don’t know that. I’m up to nothing,” he said with his voice raised to a bellow.

“No, I do know that and you just wish I didn’t.  Ah well.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Ah well, I’d not have stopped you. I’d have wanted to stop you and I’d have said that – you’re not going out – but then I’d have seen your face and… well I’d have let you go, wouldn’t I? How am I going to stop you, hmm? And how am I going to put my needs in front of yours?”

He stared.

My grandfather, Henry, taught that a person’s life was their own. He said that one should never get in the way of a person trying to live their life in any way.  I took this to heart and I’m glad I did because today I can say with pride, I have never stood in the way of anyone in my life.

“Yeah, I’d have not stopped you. I’d have had to grow up, I guess. So you’d have gone back out and if you died then I guess I’d have just had to be alone.  But never mind that. Nice scar you got there. Very, very nice and lucky you’re not dead.”

“Yep,” he said.

I felt good because his face had quit swirling and the sheen had disappeared from his lip.  This meant he was comfortable.

There was nothing more to say so I just looked at him and he looked at me back.

Skip to part 3.

Catch up here: Time Trippin’…