Home Front

Jolene had no easy answer for that.

She unhooked the goggles from her helmet and unstrapped from the seat. When she stepped onto the tarmac, a wave of exhaustion overtook her, and it was not an ordinary tiredness; this was bone deep, a kind of standing death.

She wanted to know she’d done everything possible tonight, that she was not in any way at fault, but there was no one to tell her that, no one she could believe, anyway. The thought isolated her, reminded her of how alone she was over here. She wished she could call Michael, tell him about her day and let his voice soothe her ragged nerves. So many soldiers over here had that, a marital lifeline. Like Tami and Carl.

There was little privacy over here, and since Tami and Jolene routinely stood in the phone lines together, they heard each other’s conversations. She heard Tami whispering, I love you so much, baby, just hearing your voice makes me strong again.

She remembered when she and Michael had been like that, each a half of the whole. Tami came up beside her, bumped her hip to hip. “You okay?”

“No. You?”

“No. Let’s call home. I need to hear my husband’s voice,” Tami said.

They walked across the base to the phones. Amazingly, the line was short. There were only two soldiers in front of them.

Jolene let Tami go first, heard her friend say, “Carl? Baby? I miss you so much…”

Jolene tried not to listen. The truth was she needed Michael right now, needed him to say he loved her and that he was waiting for her, that she wasn’t as alone over here as she felt, that she still had a life at home.

When it was finally Jolene’s turn, she dialed home, hoping someone was there. Back there, it was two fifteen on a Saturday afternoon.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Michael. ”

She closed her eyes, imagining his smile. She wanted to tell him more, share her feelings, but how could she? He would never understand. He wasn’t like Carl; he wasn’t proud of what she did over here. He didn’t understand how deeply she cared about the other soldiers with whom she served. At that, she felt even more separate, more distant.

A world away, she heard the creaking of his chair as he sat down, and that simple, ordinary sound reminded her acutely of the people she’d left behind and how they’d gone on with their lives, making memories that didn’t include her.

“How are you, Jo?”

She felt her mouth tremble. His tone of voice was so tender; she had to remind herself that he didn’t really want to know. When had he ever wanted to hear about her service? She couldn’t tell him that her friends had been killed tonight, that maybe it was even her fault, a little. He’d just tell her it was a ridiculous war and the soldiers had died for nothing. She straightened, cleared her throat. “How are my girls? Is Lulu excited about her birthday?”

“They miss you. Betsy heard about a helicopter pilot who’d been shot down. She was pretty upset. ”

“Tell her I’m a long way from the front line. ”

“But are you?”

She thought about tonight and winced. “Of course. I’m safe. ” That was what he wanted to hear. “Can I talk to the girls?”

“Mom took them to a movie. ”

“Oh. ”

“They’ll be so disappointed. They miss you so much, Jo. Lulu keeps asking if you’re going to be home for her party. ”

They miss you. “I better go. ”

“Don’t. I want to say—”

It was always about what he wanted. The thought exhausted her. She’d been a fool to need him. “I have to go, Michael. There’s a line behind me. ”

“Take care of yourself,” he said after a pause.

“I’m trying. ” Her voice cracked. She hung up the phone and turned back around.

Tami had heard every word. “How about a hot shower?” her friend said, putting an arm around her.