War ⇔ Cashton ✓

Medals Around My Neck

ASHTON

There was this man I grew to know well during the war. I never learned his name, simply because I never thought to ask. He had fair skin, wrinkled in places that showed his forthcoming age, and he had dark brown eyes. Nearly black. He would sit beside me on the long bus rides that Michael and Luke weren't with me for, and he would talk. He would talk endlessly, never stopping to take a breath. I would sit there and let him, because I figured he just had a lot to get off his chest.

He told me about his family, the ones that he left back home. He lived somewhere in Perth, with his wife and his two little girls. He called them his little girls, but he told me one was getting married in August, and another was in their junior year of high school. He spoke of them with pure admiration, his eyes sparkling whenever he spoke of their hobbies and the way they would get so excited when their favorite singer came on the radio. It made me wonder what he was doing here, especially since nobody was drafting.

But, I didn't ask. It wasn't my place to.

He told me he was hoping that he would get to go home before August so that he could walk his daughter down the aisle at her wedding. It was the most important thing to him-- being able to offer his arm to his daughter and lead her down the aisle to whatever man she had the opportunity to marry. I couldn't grasp the excitement of it, but I could see the pure joy in his eyes, and it made me excited for him.

I could see that he loved his family to pieces, just with all of his stories. It made me happy for him, that he had a group of people he loved dearly.

It was early in the war then. I remember seeing him help other soldiers onto helicopter platforms. I remember seeing him take another man's bag so that they wouldn't have the burden of carrying it. I remember him running through a warzone, avoiding the bullets cutting through the trees. I remember seeing the grenade that would detonate directly next to his foot. I remember the anger that came after it, the pure hatred that someone or something could kill a man as kind as him.

That was the moment that the blinds were uncovered from my eyes, and I saw the war for what it was. That was the moment I started begging the stone angles that cry in the graveyards to end the war, to make it all stop, to bring me home. Bring me back, back to Calum. They didn't listen. At least, not for nearly a year later. By then, the damage had already been done.

It's not fair that so passionate of a man should have died. It's not fair that their daughter would have to walk down the aisle alone. It's not fair, none of it is. But I've come to realize the hell that occurs during war is just a reality check. The gun powder filling our bloodstream just prepares us for the hell outside of war as well. And it's all I can do not to wilt under its power like a deadened rose.

~*~

The Medal Honor Ceremony is today. It's supposed to be a kind of shitty "thank you" from the government for serving the army. It's nothing I was looking forward to. In fact, I wasn't even aware it was occurring until my mother received the letter in the mail.

Which is why I'm currently at Calum's house, standing in front of a full length mirror with the little tan boy fluttering around me like a butterfly. He's been adjusting the badges on my blazer, obsessed with the image that my uniform has to be perfect. I'm not complaining, because I think he looks cute when he's so concentrated.

"You look nice." Calum compliments, his voice soft. He steps in front of me, pushing himself up on his tiptoes to reach my tie, fixing it carefully. A smile finds itself on my lips as I look at him.

"Thank you, love." I say, and watch as Calum's pink tongue pokes out of his mouth a bit as the boy focuses on getting my tie perfectly aligned. His cheeks are flushed slightly, his hair curly and dark against his skin. His eyes are a beautiful light brown, the little creases under his eyes deepening as he squints at the tie. He's wearing a suit that is just a bit too big for him, the sleeves coming down a little lower on his hands then what should be appropriate. He's had to tie the pants with a belt to keep them up, and they pool around his shoes, making me slightly nervous that he may trip. Calum insists that he won't, though, and I can't find it in me to argue with him when the oversized suit looks so pretty on him.