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Disclaimer: I disclaim all ownership of Pet Fly. But can I keep Jim and Blair?
He says he understands. Sometimes, maybe, he does. I remember his face when the Wall came to Cascade, that mixture of awe and pride and grief. I felt it then, myself. Who wouldn't?
Blair, though, sees things differently. It's how he was raised. You fight for the things you believe in, yes. But you fight passively, peacefully, not with anger and guns. And when you lose, you move on. You detach with love. I can't do that. And I don't see how anyone who can, can really understand.
I swing the truck into a parking spot and we head up to the loft. He chatters, as always, and I let his voice wash over me. Finally we are home, and still silent, I climb the stairs and sit heavily on my bed. Blair is rummaging through the cupboards, pulling out whatever he plans to cook for dinner. I scrub my face with my hands, feeling the stiff braid scrape over my skin.
I wouldn't have gone, not if I'd had any choice. Wearing the dress uniform I'd always hated, marching with men I'd never fought with and didn't even know was not something I enjoyed. On a scale of one to ten, Veterans Day got a zero. But cops do what the Mayor orders.
The parade had wound through downtown, passing by memorial after memorial. Cascade's last Gold Star Mother had led, in an old Model T covered with poppies. We'd followed after, soldiers all in a row. Standing wearily, I began to strip off the heavy uniform. Passing by those monuments, one thought had risen in my mind.
There would never be a monument to my men.
They, too, had died for this country. They deserved every honor, every accolade that could be given. But because they died in an undeclared war, victims of betrayal that could never be revealed, those accolades would be forever denied to them. So why, after all, had they died?
Pulling on sweats, I looked down the stairs, wondering if I had the energy to go down them. Sinking down on my bed, I wondered if I even cared, if I ever had. When men like those can give all they have, and be forgotten, what is there to fight for? Maybe it was time to "detach with love".
Suddenly, he is in front of me. Blair's hands rest against my face as he turns my gaze up to meet his own. His eyes are full of sorrow. "This country is their monument, Jim. They died for freedom's sake."
He does understand.
