The Happy War

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

“Yes, you can trust them with your life. Seriously, I’ve known them for years. Let’s see, I’ll start with Garcia. Mi amigo, he grew up in my neighborhood. Like brothers, we joined the Marines together. Right now, he lives in Italy with Giulia.” He rolled his eyes when mentioning Giulia. “Some of the others served under different flags, from other countries. We accidentally met fighting insurgents, during mortar fire. For example, Etienne is French, but he saved my life. Jack was our Chaplain. Man, I met those two at the worst time. Jack’s the reason I have this tattoo. Reminds me of Jesus.”

He held up three fingers. “There’s more. Let’s see. Oh Milo, of course. He joined the Army because he wanted to be a U.S. citizen. As a kid, he had a thing for ham radios and distant frequencies that brought Western rock and roll into his room. Even now, he’s an IT guy. But, don’t try outshining Milo at karaoke. He knows all the best songs. Anyway, back then, he kept us connected to base. Oh, and Sparky was our electrician who kept the lights dimmed during enemy attacks. I hope he’ll want to be part of the team.”

“Sparky?”

Eric waved a hand in a dismissive manner, “Oh, he has some other boring name. I think its Paul. To us, he’ll always be Sparky.”

Linda exhaled. She could hear a rapid pulse thumping in her ears. “Well, I’ve had about all I can for one night. Either we go dancing…or it’s time to go. You’ve stressed me out.”

“But….”

She repeated his earlier rebuke. “No ‘buts’. Eric, I have to work tomorrow. Give me a rundown of your peeps, tomorrow at six. We’ll meet at that same diner. Try and get a booth way in the back, so no one can hear our conversation.” Since her career centered on customer service and time management, she realized she sounded exceedingly business-like. Still, he hadn’t asked about her work yet, and this stunt at the water tower had scared her to death. He deserved much worse than her office voice, but it would have to do for now. Punishment wasn’t her style.

Nodding, his tone deferential, he asked, “Can I have one dance? You promised.”

“Sure. Only because I want to see this hyped-up, sports-bar-meets-the-Wild West, with my very own eyes. I’ve heard hearts go haywire in that place. My internet friends call it the meat market of the century,” she stated, with the judgmental air of some old-fashioned grandmother. “The place sounds like a vortex, where good intentions intertwine with chaos.”

Clearing his throat, as if she had landed on the truth, made him blush. “I’ve heard those rumors too.” The car bumbled down the dusty drive, back to the highway. “Aren’t you excited?”

Eric acted like a guy who knew a little too much about all the fun places. She worried he had tried all the fun girls too. Maybe even the loose young women who visited bars next to military bases. The tawdry stories she had heard about cheap girls who waited for soldiers to disembark military ships were distracting her, making her think horrible thoughts about Eric. And yet, the dimples, the nose, and gooey caramel eyes made him seem vulnerable, almost pathetic. “About going to the dance place?”

“No, I mean about our plan. We’re going to change the dark to light. We’ll abolish wars. The world will live in peace. Can you imagine it? Linda, your idea is phenomenal.”

God, she was either tired, annoyed or both. Why did he have to be so enthusiastic? Blah, blah, blah. She didn’t want to talk about it. Some fantasies should remain hidden, perhaps buried along with kinky fetishes in a tight-fitting box, secure and unopened for eternity. This far-fetched idea belonged inside Pandora’s Box. Nailed shut and bound with chains. Her eyes were closed. She rubbed her temples. It seemed too late in the day to portray excitement, and yet she found herself responding to Eric’s eager plea. “It’s a crazy dream but I doubt it would last. It’s not like we can keep resupplying high doses, on every continent, in perpetuity. This is a one-shot thing. It has to have lasting, positive consequences.”

“Actually, some of the medication, I’m not sure which one, has lasting qualities. Some medicine is for treating patients on a long-term basis. We need to find the pills that can cure, not just treat depression, schizophrenia and borderline symptoms. It has to be something that can alter serotonin receptors forever. There are natural protein inhibitors that can relax human DNA. What we need exists, and I plan on doing some…stealth research. Once I find what we need, we’ll use those capsules to make everyone happy.”

“You’re quite the idealist,” she replied, curtly. Maybe he’d notice she wanted to talk about something different, something less hopeless. Fact is, she knew in her heart, that not everyone wanted to be happy. Certain people are simply impervious to joy. Doesn’t Eric know there are people who regale in sad songs and intense poetry? There are societies of mourners paid to cry at funerals. There are members of religious sects who whip themselves for thinking bad thoughts. There’s even a German word for those who enjoy the pain of others: schadenfreude. Depression is at an all-time high. Truckloads of medicine couldn’t help the hardened cases. What made Eric think it was even possible? When the car turned into a gravel parking lot, she opened her eyes and straightened up. “I guess we’re here. Let’s go check it out.”

Loud music blared from the stage. A country band of bearded men played above a crowded dance floor. The lead singer wore a leather cowboy hat and sang an upbeat tune accompanied by various musicians, even a banjo. When they walked in, Eric reached into his pocket to pay the cover charge. “Howdy,” the young man at the door greeted them, and stamped the top of their hands with glow-in-the dark ink. The familiar way he slapped Eric on the back, made her think they were friends.

Near the door, couples played darts, shot some pool or played arcade games. Everyone looked like they were having fun. If only the entire world could hold hands in a giant line dance, she thought, almost laughing out loud. Glad to have worn boots, Linda kicked aside sawdust and peanut shells on the messy floor.

They sat by the stage watching the hoofing and clapping, until the lights were turned down, and the band mellowed into a romantic ballad. “Come on Miss Linda, you owe me this dance.”

“I don’t owe you, or anyone else, a thing,” she snapped, wanting to make sure he knew his boundaries. Surprised at her comeback, his eyebrows arched above the rims of his glasses. He looked impressed with what he probably thought of as strength. To Linda, it went beyond strength. Eric gave her confidence because he listened. And, since he frightened her earlier, she thought of it as gentle sparring. Yes, I am a warrior and he better watch out.

She looked down at his black and white sneakers and, for a fleeting moment, forgot about everything. This guy didn’t need boots or a cowboy hat to have a good time. His wry smile, brown wavy hair and dreamy, bedroom eyes pulled her from the wooden bench. “Hold on, I’m coming,” she added, when he reached for her waist. The singer crooned the mushiest words she had ever heard about someone being separated from his sweetheart. Eric didn’t appear to be a fantastic dancer, but he held her tight and whispered into her ear. Two simple actions she forgot how much she enjoyed. Maybe he was a sensitive guy after all. Maybe, she needed to loosen up and smile too.

“Still stressed out?”

“No,” she replied, inhaling the smell of soap on his neck. “This is better than I expected.”

He smiled again, flashing mesmerizing and enchanting dimples. “If I was an arrogant bastard, and I hope I’m not, I’d say, ‘it’s because you’re with me.”

“Be arrogant. It is because of you.” The song ended. By that time, she had surrendered. They stood in the middle of the dance floor kissing. She thought, the way his glasses were getting fogged up was the cutest thing, ever.