Jerome's Story

"Yeah, I get it, Philip. Sorry to bother you. Take care of yourself, ok?"

Two days later Colonel Jerome Willis was sitting across a desk from an old friend at Fort Belvoir, Virginia.

"General, I think it is time for me to hang it up. I don't know if I can give the army what it deserves from me any more." Jerome went on to explain to his old friend how his marriage had gone down the toilet over the past year, how disillusioned he'd become with the political morass in Nam, and how he now felt he had lost everything he had worked for.

"Jerome, we've known one another for what? Close on twenty years I'm guessing. You have never given your country anything but your best. What have you got left for your thirty?"

"A little less than a year."

"Good God man, don't do this! We can find a hundred ways for you to get through this and claim your full pension. Give me two days and I'll have options for you, Colonel. You don't even report here for duty for another ten days, right? Look, Jerome, you like to fish? I'll tell you what, I've got this cottage up on a little finger lake down near Culpepper. Not much of a lake, but there are more than a few fish in it, and there is nobody around to bother you. Here," the General scribbled some quick notes on a scrap of paper. "These are the directions. The key to the cottage is under a yellow painted rock in the back yard. There are fishing rods in the cabin, and a row boat pulled up on shore. Go there, stay there, and I'll come and find you in a couple of days."

Jerome was barely out of the office when the General picked up his phone. "Russel, get me Jeff Hobart from DIA as soon as you can..."

Jerome wasn't much for fishing. The last time he had tried it was when Philip had been a boy of about ten or twelve, but there wasn't much else to do at the little cottage, so he fished. Rowing around the little lake at least used up some energy and he used the oars on the little boat to take out his anger at the desertion his family had heaped upon him. That of his wife hurt the most deeply, but knowing his daughter had no use for him, and that even his son didn't want to see him left him feeling empty and betrayed. He tried not to think back to the salad days of his marriage, when their love for one another had seemed strong enough to take on the whole world. Those first days of exploring one another's bodies and learning about making love. The wonder of Carla's sexuality had enthralled him, and the time in rural France, especially after they learned that Carla was pregnant, when it seemed she wanted him inside her at every opportunity. Those memories now tasted like ashes in his mouth as he contemplated his wife living with Felix and giving him her love and affection. Only the bouts of intense fury erased for a few minutes at a time the overwhelming feelings of loss and hollowness that he had been carefully keeping locked away during his last months in Saigon. Now, with the barriers allowed to crumble he found it impossible to erect them again and a spiral of disillusion and regret kept him sitting in the lawn chair staring out unfocused over the lake for hours at a time, the scotch whisky bottle near at hand.

Buy the end of the third day his shoulders were sore and his hands blistered, but he felt marginally better, and he discovered he really liked the solitude of the hillside cabin. He felt he was unfit for any human interaction anyway, and the isolation of the hillside over the lake allowed him to vent his feelings and wallow unashamedly in his discontent.

He had just finished cleaning a fish for his supper when he heard the truck coming up the hill. Stepping around the corner of the cottage he was just in time to see the General crawling out of the old beat up GMC pickup, a bottle of Bourbon in hand, in a pair of faded blue jeans and a plaid shirt.

"Jerome? How's the fishing? Thought you might be a pint low by now," he said raising the bottle of Maker's Mark.

"General, good to see you." Jerome smiled at his old friend.

"Just Richard here, no titles, no uniforms, no salutes! You got a reasonably clean glass somewhere?"

Two hours, several drinks and one fish later the two friends sat on the front porch amiably.

"Got an idea for you, Jerome. Could be an answer for your current situation. How would you like to have some time to just do some analysis for an old acquaintance of yours? No office duties, no one to answer to until you had something ready."

"And who is this acquaintance I'd be writing opinions for?"

"Jeff Hobart."

"General Jeff Hobart? Director of DIA?"

"Yup. One and the same. You know him well enough from your two years over there, and he remembers you well enough and would love your insights. Look, Jerome, we both know you made some senior officers pretty uncomfortable during your stint in Nam. Frankly they deserved it, and I'll back you 100%, but if you were to fade out of sight for a while, well it wouldn't hurt and Jeff will back you up fully, just like I will. You can help them out with your perspective, plus you stay on as part of my command, seconded to DIA just like before. You do this for six months, and if you don't like it you are home free and I'll get you your thirty. If you and Jeff connect like I expect, you stay there. You retire in ten months, take a full pension, and Jeff hires you on as a civilian analyst."

"OK, just one thing."

"What's that?"

"How much do you want for this cottage?"

The next several months Jerome kept himself busy doing what he did best, finding anomalies in intel reports, examining their origins, and determining their significance. A lot of what he did was traceable directly back to either the Russians or the Chinese, but more than occasionally the sources were much closer to home. Keeping busy with analyzing data and human intel had an additional benefit of keeping Jerome occupied on matters other than his family. While he did not heal, the gut wrenching tearing pain gradually receded to a dull ache.

Carla and the Asshole came up with the money to buy out the house, which did disappoint him. He hated the thought of Felix living under what had been his roof, but there wasn't much he could do about it. The cash was also useful in buying the lakeside property from the General, which, he found came with 100 acres of forested land. It took over four months for the divorce to wind its way through the courts, but one day in late summer he got the letter that told him he was now a single man again after twenty-seven years. He celebrated by going out to a bar, getting slightly drunk, and getting laid by some middle aged woman who was probably out for a night's escape. She wasn't wearing any rings although the marks were there. He didn't ask and didn't want to know. He kept sober enough not to make any mistakes. With his security clearances he could not afford to get sloppy or get picked up for even a traffic violation, but he got just happy enough not to care about too many details about the lady he ended up spending the night with. It just felt good to hold a soft warm body close once again, to have his sexual tension released, and to feel the touch of a soft warm breast in his hand as he fell asleep.

The woman was probably ten years younger than him, and still looked pretty good in the morning, so he took her out for breakfast and she gave him a number to reach her at during daytime hours. They both enjoyed the sex, but after three more dates, all ending up at a local motel, they agreed they were not going anywhere and said polite goodbyes with no hard feelings or regrets.

In his spare time Jerome worked at fixing up the cottage, adding another bedroom and building out a bigger deck overlooking the lake. Near the end of the year he got a call from the General, asking for an interview.

"Well Colonel, you still set on retiring out of this man's army?"

"I suppose so. I'm getting too old to believe I'll still make it much higher up the totem pole. I'm pretty sure I've embarrassed too many guys with stars on their shoulders who would have input on that. Besides that, I'm not sure I want to retire in Arizona."

"So, you know where they are going to send you, eh? Probably right, Fort Huachuca would be a good fit. You don't want to teach intel to the kids?"

"Don't think I'd last long. Too many bad habits picked up over too many years," Jerome smiled ruefully.

"I have to agree, and that goes for both of us!" The General laughed, "So does Jeff, and he wants you at DIA, on a permanent basis, Colonel. You are only about eight weeks from your window on thirty, and I can erase that without even breaking a sweat. Your position at DIA would be assistant director for the Defence Attaché Service. It is something you are already familiar with from your previous two years there. You'd have to do some travel, but not a hell of a lot, not like before. The General would love to have you, but if you change your mind I will make a place for you here at HQ and in a few years you'll still make brigadier and get your star."

"Nah, I think you'd get tired of seeing my sorry ass around here! Besides, without Carla the damn star wouldn't mean much, no offence, Sir. So, thanks General, for everything, but I think I might just take General Hobart up on his offer. I get my pension, and I get to do something I think I'm pretty good at as a civilian, with the bonus that I can quit any time! Of course you're still more than welcome up at the lake anytime you'd like a safe escape from this pressure cooker."

Jerome settled into his new routine at DIA quickly enough and used his spare time continuing his task of fixing up the lakeside cottage into a livable one man home. The job was satisfying enough, and his interaction with his co-workers amiable and professional, but Jerome consciously kept everyone at arms length. At a place like the DIA socializing was not really encouraged much, anyway. There were so many security issues and various levels of clearances to make it cumbersome, which suited Jerome to a tee. He did not socialize, he did not ever invite anyone, except his old friend the General, out to the cottage. While he was functioning more than adequately at DIA, he was closed up tight as a drum emotionally. The hurt of Carla's betrayal never left him and the knowledge that his adult children, especially his estranged daughter, totally took her side left him alternately infuriated or emotionally crushed. For all that he had achieved in his career in the army he now had to face that he was a total failure as a husband and father. It seemed unfair, somehow. He had supported them all for all those years, paying for every need and want that he could. Both his kids had been able to go to good colleges without taking out student loans, Carla had always had a nice, if not extravagant, house to live in, and a reasonable budget. Yes, he'd been gone at times, the nature of his job, but he'd always been back, and in all the years he had never seriously looked at another woman. In his bitterness now he wondered why not. How often, he wondered had she cheated on him over the years? He was sure he didn't want to know.

It was six months after his full retirement from the Service. His new job was becoming more routine and manageable and he felt that his emotional wounds were starting to heal over when, on his way home he stopped at the mailbox at the end of his half mile driveway and discovered a hand written envelope with no return address. Curious, he pulled over onto his driveway and opened the letter.

Dear Dad,

I know it has been a long time, and I'm sorry I didn't get back to you sooner. My only excuse is just that, an excuse, of being busy at college finishing up my senior year. I know that you taught me to be better than that and I can only imagine how much we have all hurt you in the wake of mother's actions.

I tried to stay out of it, thinking that it wasn't my business, and that it was just between you two, but of course that was just selfishness on my part because I could carry on doing my own thing, ignoring my responsibilities, and pretending it was all ok.

I am sorry! I know that it is pretty late in the game for me to make apologies now, but if the fat lady hasn't sung yet, I'd really like to see you and tell you face to face. I will understand if, after all this time, you don't want to see me, and I wouldn't blame you, but if you'll take the chance, I'd like to try to make things right between us.

Your son,

Phil

Jerome just sat and stared at the paper in his hand for a long while, almost uncomprehendingly. The letter was both a blessing and a curse. He was afraid to hope, afraid of another crushing rejection, but he also found himself unable not to at least want to hope.

It was two weeks later, on a chilly Saturday morning that Philip found his way up the winding driveway to the cottage where a pensive Jerome waited, hopefully.

"Dad? It's so good to see you! Thank you for agreeing to see me. Before anything let me please just say how sorry I am for everything." Philip walked up to his father, trying not to stare, but looking for the man he'd known. It was only a bit over thirty months since they'd last been together, on a brief visit when his father had come home for a few weeks before returning to Viet Nam for that last fateful posting when everything had fallen apart. It seemed that his Dad had aged ten years and had shrunken somehow. The proud officer he'd always looked up to was still in here somewhere, he was sure, but Jerome looked every day of his 52 years old, his hair thinner than he remembered, the shoulders a bit more hunched, the lines on his face deeper.

"Hi Philip. It's good to see you, thanks for coming! Can I get you anything? I was just going to pour a coffee and sit on the front deck. It's sheltered and on the sunny side of the cottage with a good view of the lake."

"Uh, coffee would be fine. I still take a little milk or cream in it if you have..."

"Come on in, Philip. We'll round some up." Jerome looked his son over. He was a young man, not a boy anymore, and he was more filled out and looked confident. A son he could be proud of in other circumstances.

It took a while for things to thaw between father and son, but gradually the conversation became less stilted as barriers were lowered. They began with topics that promised to be relatively shoal free, Philip's upcoming graduation with a degree in business management, with a minor in accounting. Jerome's new role at the DIA and his retirement from the army.

"Man, I never thought you'd leave the Army, Dad. I mean it was always your life. It was who you were, to me. The man in the uniform." Philip immediately saw the momentary scowl cross his father's face and realized how that came out.

"Please don't get me wrong, Dad! I was so proud of who you were. I never felt cheated in any way. Mom always made sure we understood that what you did, you also did for us, to make our lives better, safer, and more secure. There were lots of years we were all together, most of them, and the few times when you had to be away on assignments we couldn't join, you always tried to make it up to us. It was just those last two years when it all fell apart."

"In fairness, you are probably right in your judgement, Son. The Army, in lots of ways, was my life.'' Jerome responded. "I enjoyed my job, and if I say so myself, I was pretty damn good at it. I hope you get to find job satisfaction in whatever you choose to do, too. But, it was all part of a bigger picture, was supposed to be, about your Mom and your sister and you. Somewhere along the way that part, the biggest part, got lost. Frankly, without that, it didn't mean much at the end."

"We all failed you, dad. Not the other way round. I know that now, maybe I always did, but, frankly, I was too self absorbed to make a stand. Caroline started hanging hanging around with the liberal, anti-war, free love gurus at university, mom was best friends with Felix and Sharon Carlyle, who were on just about the same page as Caroline. Mom and Felix started seeing each other, which caused Felix and Sharon's divorce, I guess. I was away at school most of the time, and I just sort of stayed away and pretended it was none of my business. It wasn't until Caroline got married and she asked Felix to walk her down the isle that it all came home to roost for me. I guess I pissed everyone off when I refused to be any part of the wedding and told my sister she was a bitch, so I just went back to school and stayed away. But I also stayed away from you when you got back, and I am ashamed and sorry about that. I also listened to Mom about her views of the divorce, without even thinking about how it was for you. I shot my mouth off to you without asking for your side of things, or even stopping to think about them too much. I'm sorry, dad."

The two men sat for hours catching up and patching up. It wasn't long into the conversation that Philip announced that he had found someone special, and hoped there would be a wedding in spring. He invited his father to please attend and asked if he could bring his girlfriend up to the cottage for a visit.

"It was finding Pamela that finally woke me up, Dad. I started thinking about how I wanted things to progress between us, realized I loved her, and then thought about how you loved Mom over the years. That's when the hurt she heaped on you became real for me. I still love my mom, but I know what she did was not only wrong, Dad, it was incredibly hurtful."

The day at the cottage was a watershed and Jerome felt he had a part of his family back as father and son discussed Philip's future plans. The younger Willis shared his hopes to join forces with his best friend, George Foster, who happened to be the brother of his fiancé, Pamela, and start a construction and land development company. Jerome enjoyed his son's enthusiasm, marvelled at the depth of the two young men's planning, and gradually became convinced of their possibility for success. By the end of the day not only was Philip invited to bring the young Pamela for a visit, but to come out with George to discuss the business plan.

In the final event, Jerome, and George's father Andrew Foster, each loaned the start-up enterprise of Willis & Foster Construction $250,000 as seed money. Jerome not only attended Philip's wedding, but was asked to give a toast as father of the groom while Carla and Felix sat quietly and Caroline glowered at him. None of the three spoke to him at all, which was fine with Jerome, but he couldn't help but smile when Andrew Foster handed the bride, his only daughter, Pamela, off to him half way through the second dance, reserved for father and daughter. Carla could not hold his gaze and Felix looked like he had eaten something that did not agree with him. Caroline glared at him and then stood and walked out of the hall. Jerome wondered where her husband was, not seeing him, but Philip informed him that they were already separated and heading for a divorce.

Having reestablished a relationship with his son made some of the pain diminish for Jerome, while at the same time highlighting and reinforcing the feelings of betrayal from the two women that had made up the rest of his family. The next few years allowed him to concentrate on rebuilding his sense of purpose and helped him to recover from the depression and anxiety of his failed marriage and loss of relationship with a daughter who made it clear wanted nothing to do with him. He still kept to himself, apart from his work at DIA, living in almost total isolation up at the lake.

After an unfortunate incident when a very inebriated Caroline had shown up at the cottage with some man, and had stood on his lawn screaming and cursing at him for all his apparent shortcomings as father and husband, not to mention as a flag carrying member of the fascist military industrial complex that was fighting democracy around the world, Jerome installed an eight foot high electric gate at the foot of the drive. Peace and quiet were now his mantra... solitude again was the preferred answer to feelings of rejection and the resultant anger that still coursed through him.