The Coversation that Changed Everything

The Conversation that Changed Everything

The car pulled to a stop in front of a white picket fence. The black Honda seemed inconspicuous, with only a American flag hood ornament to suggest this was a government vehicle. The small flag waved sporadically in the quick, crisp wind, which was much welcomed on this hot August day. Army Lieutenant Don Riggs stepped out of the car accompanied by his longtime friend, Sergeant Mordecai Quintel.

    "God, Mordi, this is the part of the job I hate the most," proclaimed Lieutenant Riggs as they both started toward the white painted house with light blue trim.

    "Yeah, I know, let's just hurry. I don't wanna drag this out any longer than we have to," responded Quintel.

    Meanwhile inside, Rebecca Birtch had just sat down after making sandwiches for her two kids, Marcy and Anthony, to eat for lunch. Rebecca looked outside her glass sliding back door to see her kids playing with their dog, a yellow lab that they had found at the animal shelter about two years back. She had remembered that Anthony had wanted an old greyish bulldog who had murder in his eyes.

    "We can call him Ripper and he'll protect us from any monsters or mailmen that try to come onto our yard," Anthony said excitedly.

    "But what if he hurts Marcy?" asked Brandon, his father who, at the time, had not yet shipped out to Iraq.

    "He won't I promise!," persuaded Anthony

    "I don't know, Tony. He seems a bit dangerous," his mom said.

    "I want this one!," squealed Marcy, pointing and basically hopping up and down next to a young lab puppy.

    Anthony, being three years her superior, thought this was a bad idea.

    "That's a little kids dog," he said angrily, "I want a cool dog, not one that's lame.

"I like it," Rebecca said, "besides, you'll learn to like it."

And of course he did, choosing to call him Sonny rather than Marcy's idea, Sunshine.

Rebecca thought of that day and remembered how she had to teach her young daughter not to squeeze the small dog too tight or she might hurt him. Sunshine was now too big for Marcy to do any real damage. She started thinking about her husband and felt sad. She missed Brandon, and she hadn't gotten any mail from him this past week.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Rebecca got up to answer it.

"Hello," she said, opening the door with a polite smile that soon faded when she noticed the army issued uniforms the two men were wearing.

"Good morning ma'am. Are you Mrs. Rebecca Birtch, wife to Staff Sergeant Brandon Birtch?" asked the taller one with Riggs engraved into his nametag.

"I am her," replies Rebecca quickly. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes ma'am, I'm afraid there is," Sergeant Quintel answered. "I am Sergeant Mordecai Quintel and this is Lieutenant Don Riggs. May we come inside?"

"Sure," answered Rebecca almost automatically.

"Ma'am," Sergeant Quintel said as he began reciting the script he had spent the past hour rehearsing. "The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that your husband, Brandon Birtch was killed in action in Iraq on July 20th."

At first, Rebecca didn't respond, just stared ahead, past Riggs and Quintel, as if she hadn't had even heard what had just been said. But she had, and she couldn't believe it. Her blood ran cold and her face went pale.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" asked Lieutenant Riggs

Without warning, she collapsed to her knees and began sobbing. Thousands of memories started flooding her mind. When she and Brandon had first met at the small grocery store where she had once worked, their first date, the first time he kissed her, the time he tried to impress her by jumping off the tall cliff into the nearby lake and ended up with eight stitches. Then the day that he had gotten down on one knee in front of an entire restaurant and asked if she would be his wife. Then the day she found out she was pregnant with Anthony, a mix of sadness and pain washed over her as she realized that her kids no longer had a father. No longer would they write letters telling him about their days and how much they missed him. No longer would they huddle around an envelope as she read to them the message their father had written.

"The Secretary extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your tragic loss," Lieutenant Riggs' voice broke her of her thoughts.

"Would you like us to contact a neighbor ma'am?" asked Riggs

"No," responded Rebecca, fighting through her tears, "I just need to sit down."

"As you wish ma'am," Said Quintel, "If there is no other way we can help then we must be returning to Fort Hood, again, on behalf of the Secretary of the Army, please accept the United States Army's deepest condolences."

Lieutenant Riggs and Sergeant Quintel left the house, closing the door behind them. Rebecca was not a drinker. There was little more than a small bottle of whiskey Brandon used to keep around, just in case he felt like loosening up. That's exactly how Rebecca felt as she retrieved the bottle from the top shelf where it had been resting in order to be kept away from the children.

This can't be happening, Rebecca thought, This is all just a sick dream and soon I'll wake up and next time I see Brandon I'll tell him about this awful dream, and he'll tell me I'm starting to miss him too much.

Her hands worked almost robotically as she poured a shot of the whiskey. It tasted awful and burned going down, but after her third shot she didn't even notice the burning sensation in her throat, or the aching feeling in her heart.