Dear Megs; From hell

  The rain struck the window like pebbles dropping on glass. The sky was black as tires on the work truck but it was midday. But I couldn’t lift my head to look out the window. Usually a warm rainstorm on a summer afternoon was a blessing. The sound of the rain on a hot tin roof could soothe my heart. But today it was a sad omen. I sat in a rocking chair facing the window. My hand dangling down beside the chair. In my hand a typed note. 

Megan walked in and saw my posture. She could sense the fear and anger in my demeanor. She could also sense my horror and depression. 

“What’d it say?” She asked picking up the envelope crumpled on the floor. I said nothing. I couldn’t move. It was as if every ounce of my being had been removed by a few short sentences. The straightened the envelope to see the army emblem embossed on the top left corner. 

I could here her tears and I wanted nothing more then to comfort her. She quivered and fell to the floor next to the rocking chair. Her dress flowing over her knees and stopping just above her ankle. 

“Tell me it ain’t” she begged. “Tell me that this was some sort of mistake.” She laid her forehead directly on my arm. She was feeling the darkness that I was trying overcome myself. She grabbed the envelope and tried to reread the address. “The Wilkens Mail, That’s it isn’t it? It’s just got to be.” She rarely cried. For that matter I rarely cried but this moment I couldn’t even muster the tears I felt on the inside.

I mustered the strength to hand her the letter. My name was bold on top. And it was informing me that I was to report to the bus depot of Thursday. 

“Mexico!” She said. “It’s a short trip. And when we get there we can change our names and become citizens.” Of course she would think that. It was less common to run to Mexico then Canada. But Canada was a two day drive from College Station, Texas. She stood up and rushed towards our luggage. 

“To what end, Megs? We can’t avoid our family. And what would Dad think?” I said. The southern drawl oozing from my mouth like liquor from a wineo. “Now listen, I don’t like it and you don’t like it but I will come back for you. This is our home and it needs a family. Wouldn’t do me any good to get killed before we can fill it now would it?”

“I suppose not but why do you have to go? Why can’t we run to Mexico? What would be the harm.” She asked. Neither one of us could really believe that I would be coming home. Two years of service wasn’t as safe as other things. 

“I told you. We don’t have a choice. It wouldn’t be a good life for you or any children if we run. We got to stay. And I have to go.” I had one day to prepare and I didn’t want to waste my time crying. I wanted to remember Megs. She was the only one that would help me through.