The soldier on the phone last night:
“I’m a baby, that’s what it is. I used to be a hardened man but now I’m a baby and I don’t like it.”
“Yeah, I’m a silly school boy now. That’s the kind of love I have for you. I have love like a silly school boy love. I want to carry your books home from school,” he said. “I want to carve your initials in a tree with mine. I want to sing you love songs with bluebirds flying around my head, P. And something ain’t right. Because I’m a Green Beret. We aren’t supposed to do things like this. These are not the feelings of the hardened man I used to be.”
“Well I don’t know. Can you survive it? Can you?”
“Oh yeah, I’ll survive it. I’m just not happy is all. I’m not happy at all. I’d much rather have people trying to kill me. You kill them first and it goes away but this? You can’t get rid of this. There is just no way.”
“What a lament. I’ll try not to exacerbate the situation but you know. There’s not much I can do. I cause you all the trouble I can and it doesn’t seem to do anything. I feel very sorry for you though, does that help? Does it?”
I could tell he was shaking his head.