The Guard To My Sanctuary

Chapter 11

Marco

Spending the night with Elm through the phone was insufficient at best. I had grown accustomed to him sleeping in my arms and found myself tossing and turning as he slept the whole night. He snored lightly in his sleep, which had become my lullaby and acted as a pillow. I had grown so used to him holding my shirt when I walked that I tripped due to my overcompensating for the weight I was walking with.

I got used to the smell of him flooding my nose; he no longer smelled of cotton candy, and I was even revolted by the smell to the point of being physically ill. We all learned that the hard way when we went to Golden Corral, and he walked by a child with a cone of the stuff. He looked at the boy and doubled over, throwing up on the pastry counter. We had a lot of angry pastry chefs to explain to.

Elm smelled like spearmint body soap and whatever spray he bought from Victoria's Secret. His skin was so soft, and he subtly shimmered from the pearlescent glitter in his lotion. Elm was kind and nervous, like a deer taking in its new surroundings. I doubted he knew it, but his facial expressions were priceless around people he got comfortable with. As I walked into my classroom to teach my students as a stand-in for another instructor on maternity leave, I had to push those thoughts down.

"Hello everyone, I'm Sergeant Tafford; from now on, I will be teaching this class for, well, I don't know how long, but I'm here, so 'Ahora empecemos,'" shifting into Spanish. I spoke six languages: Mandarin, Korean, German, Spanish, and Arabic. I had many job offers if I chose to get out, but I hadn't seen a reason to leave since I was getting a steady paycheck and allowances for food and housing. Everyone put on their headsets and began translating the information set up for practice. I moved around the room, helping anyone who looked in need. The job was pretty easy, and the area was good, so I could see myself enjoying this position.

"Excuse me, sir," an Asian girl spoke with her hand in the air. I walked over to her and smiled.

"Aquí no hablamos inglés," I told her that we didn't speak English during class.

"Señor, ¿puede ayudarme?" she repeated and completed her statement.

"¿Cómo se dice rendezvous en español?" she asked me how to say rendezvous.

"Como acabas de decir," I told her there was no translation before walking to another student with his hand up. Throughout the class, I answered many questions, which wasn't too bad since the class was more advanced in their studies and only needed me for a few things. They marched to lunch and came back until four in the afternoon. I filled out paperwork and gave the assigned study work before leaving to talk to my Commander, who asked me into his office.

"Hello, Colonel Josephson," I said, walking in and standing at attention.

"Oh, calm all of that down. I asked you to come here just so I could introduce myself to you," my boss said, standing up in his uniform. He shook my hand, I shook his, then sat in one of his chairs.

"So, how was your first class?" He asked, scratching his sandy blond hair. His hairline had seemed to start receding.

"It was fine; everything went smoothly, sir; all I did was answer a few easy questions and showed a few how to conjugate some verbs properly," I said, wanting to get out of the traditionally decorated room and call Elm to make sure his visit to the DMV went smoothly. I knew he didn't want to go to that crowded building and hoped he didn't have a panic attack. It was a necessary trip because he needed a form of identification. He needed to catch up to everyone his age group so he wouldn't feel so behind in life.

"Oh, that's good. Do you have somewhere to be? You keep checking your watch," he said. I didn't even know I was looking at it.

"Sorry, sir, I have a friend in town who had PTSD like I do, and we have been working through it together," I said to him. I stole another glance at my watch, looked back at his face, and found myself actively doing my best to not look down at the time.