One Of Her Men

After I turned around and started back down her drive, Barbara waved and blew me a kiss. She'd done this every holiday since that Valentine's Day back in 2002. It wasn't the happiest of times back then, but together we've made it through that year and the years that followed. Jason probably wouldn't approve, but Barbara does because it makes her happy, and like she says, "that's all that matters". It's a little hard to understand our relationship if one doesn't know the whole story, so I'll begin at the beginning.

Jason and I grew up together, well, not together, really. I mean, we weren't next door neighbors or anything like that. Jason lived with his mother on a small farm in the country. I lived with my foster parents in a house in the city with three other foster kids.

My situation wasn't of my choosing and once I got old enough to understand what was going on, it wasn't one I particularly liked. Jeff and Marilyn were nice enough people and they took care of us kids pretty well, but I wasn't very fond of either. Jeff worked for the city taking care of the roads during the day and worked on his model railroad at night. Marilyn was a stay at home "mom" to us, and was paid by the state for doing that. She did help out with the income by knitting baby sweaters she sold at a local second hand clothing store.

It wasn't that I hated Jeff and Marilyn because I did like them as people; we just didn't click, if you know what I mean, so I couldn't think of them as a mom and dad. We were also very different in personality. I wanted excitement in my life. Jeff was a quiet man who taught me how to make models but never did anything exciting. Marilyn taught us how to be polite and made us study our school lessons every night, but there was never any of the love between us I saw between Jason and his mom.

Jason's mom, Barbara, was a widow who stayed on their farm after her husband had a heart attack and died. They'd started raising goats and chickens for milk and eggs to sell right after they married, and Barbara kept up that business by herself.

I was always a little jealous of Jason because he had a real mom. Barbara made him toe the line about things, but she was always hugging him and telling him he was a great kid. I never got hugs and because I was a little on the headstrong side, Marilyn usually told me I was wrong and needed to change.

Jason and I met in the first grade and stayed friends through high school. I stayed over at his house on the weekend about once a month and loved those short visits. I'd help him clean out the goat barn or change the straw in the chicken nests, and once we were done, Barbara would check on how we did. Jason knew how to please her, so once she'd inspected our work, she'd give Jason a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. Then, she'd look at me and say, "Ricky, you deserve a hug too. Come here, Honey". I'd get the same hug and the same kiss on the cheek.

I turned eighteen a month after we graduated and that meant I'd aged out of the foster care system. I needed to move out of Jeff and Marilyn's house because the state would no longer pay them to take care of me. I found a job at a local fast food place that paid enough I could buy my own meals and a few clothes, but that was it. After looking for a month for a job that paid enough to pay for my own place, feed me, and let me buy a car, I gave up. There were plenty of good jobs around if you had a college education or some sort of skill, but I didn't have either. It seemed like going to college would get me out of Jeff and Marilyn's house and get me the degree I needed at the same time.

I knew this situation was coming because Jeff had explained it to me. He'd also insisted I take the SAT when that time came around. I'm reasonably smart and made a decent score, so getting into a college wasn't much of a problem. The problem was money. Jeff and Marilyn weren't obligated to pay for my education and couldn't afford it even if they'd wanted to.

Jeff did some checking around and found out I could get a Pell grant because I was a foster child. The problem was a Pell grant wasn't enough to pay all the expenses for a four year college. It would pay for almost everything for Nashville State Community College though, so I applied there and got accepted.

The college helped me fill out the paperwork for the Pell grant and also helped me find a tiny apartment within walking distance of campus. The night job I found washing dishes at a restaurant close to my apartment paid enough for my rent and I could eat at least one meal a day for free. In September I started in the associates degree program for mechanical engineering.

Jason didn't like the idea of college and Barbara couldn't afford to pay his way anyway. He also didn't want to stay on their farm. The US Army recruiter told him the Army needed vehicle repair technicians and said the Army would train him and he'd get paid while learning a skill he could use as a civilian. Jason signed up and left for basic training the same month I left for Nashville State Community College.

Jason and I kept in touch through letters because I couldn't afford to both eat and have a phone. After basic training at Camp Benning, Georgia, Jason went to track vehicle maintenance school at Fort Belvoir, Virginia. He didn't like basic much, but really liked the maintenance school. He was looking forward to being assigned to a unit so he could do what he'd been taught.

Jason got that assignment just before Christmas in 2000 and also got a two week leave. He came home on the twenty-third and drove to Nashville to see me and ask if I wanted to spend Christmas with him and Barbara. I really didn't have anywhere else to go but I did have to work the day after, so I said I'd spend Christmas day with them if he'd come get me and then take me back.

That Christmas day was the best Christmas I'd ever had. Jeff and Marilyn had made sure we got to celebrate Christmas. They always had a Christmas tree and they bought us foster kids some presents, but there wasn't the feeling of really belonging. With Jason and Barbara, it felt like I was one of the family.

Barbara had made a Christmas dinner with enough food to feed a dozen people, and after eating, we sat down in their living room. Jason and Barbara exchanged gifts and after opening hers, Barbara picked up another package from under their tree.

"This one says, 'To Ricky, From Santa'. That must be you, Ricky."

I suppose at one time or another I'd written Jason that I wanted a better scientific calculator but couldn't afford one. Mine was the one I'd used in high school, but it didn't do some of the things I needed for my college classes so I did some of the math on the calculator and did the rest by hand. That's what was in the package. It was a used one, but everything still worked. I looked up at Barbara.

"Mrs. Wilton, you didn't need to do this."

She just smiled.

"I found it at the thrift store in town. It seemed to work and it didn't cost that much and Jason said you needed one. Besides, I couldn't let one of my men have Christmas without a Christmas present."

I have to tell you that I got sort of choked up then. Marilyn had called me by my name and she had sometimes called me stubborn, but she'd never said anything that might lead me to believe she felt anything for me. Barbara had called me "one of her men".

I looked up at Barbara.

"I don't know what to say. I didn't get you anything."

"I didn't expect you to. Just having you here with us is enough, Ricky. It's like it used to be before both of you grew up and left home. That makes me feel good, and that's all that matters."

The day after New Year's Day, Jason went back to his new unit as a track vehicle repairman. His letters told me he was happy with his new job but didn't like all the regulations. He was happy he had only three more years to go before he could become a civilian again. My letters told him how much I had to study but that I was happy to be learning something useful.

Spring came and went, and since I didn't have school, I spent the summer working two jobs. Jason spent the summer in another Army school learning more about repairing track vehicles. He wrote that he'd probably try to find a job with a construction equipment dealer when he got out of the Army.

I was sitting in an advanced calculus class on the morning of September 11 when another teacher burst into the classroom gasping for breath.

"Somebody flew an airplane into an office building in New York! It's all over the television...every station!"

The classroom quickly emptied as the teacher and all the students ran out to find the nearest television set. I ended up in a hallway of the building with a bunch of people huddled around another student with a portable radio. It wasn't just one plane and one office building. It was both of the twin towers of the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and another plane that crashed into a field.

Some of the girls were crying. Most of us just sat there dumbfounded. How could this have happened? This was The United States, not some backward third-world country where there was fighting all the time.

That night, on the small television I'd bought second hand that summer, I watched the planes flying into the towers and then the buildings collapsing as people ran for their lives through the dust. The news said it was Al-Qaeda terrorists that commandeered four airliners. Three hit their intended targets. The plane that crashed was taken over by the passengers before it could get to its target. Since the crew was dead and nobody else could fly the plane, it crashed in a field in Pennsylvania.

I saw the rubble where the World Trade Center had been. I saw hole in the side of the Pentagon. I saw the President saying the terrorists would be punished. It was a bad time. I didn't think it could get worse, but it did.

Though he usually wrote me every couple of weeks, it was two months later I got the next letter from Jason. His unit had been mobilized within hours of the attack and had been confined with no outside communication allowed for almost a week. After that, they'd been loaded onto planes and flown to Saudi Arabia and were not allowed any communication of any type for another two weeks. He couldn't tell me where he went after that, but he said I'd see it on the news.

That was the last letter I got from Jason. It had taken almost two weeks for his letter to get me, and I'd already seen news about the suicide bomber that crashed the truck through the gate into the Army compound. The truck blew up in the middle of a tank maintenance area. I hoped for the best, but that wasn't to be.

Barbara came and picked me up for the funeral. She seemed to have come to grips with Jason's death pretty well. She didn't say much on the way back to her house, but at least she wasn't crying or anything like that. I was glad of that because if she'd started crying, I would have too.

Barbara was pretty calm and collected through the funeral. She had tears in her eyes as the soldier in dress uniform handed her the folded flag, then stood at attention and saluted her. Her hand was trembling in mine when she walked to the casket and placed a single white rose on the top. Then, she turned to me, handed me her car keys and said, "Ricky, I don't think I can drive us home. Would you take us?"

It was when we walked through the door of her house that Barbara fell apart. One minute she was fine. The next, she was hanging on my shoulder and sobbing her heart out. I didn't know how to comfort her, so I just held her close and let her cry. I'm not ashamed to say I was crying too.

It was about half an hour before she finally stopped. She gently pushed back a little, wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, and looked up at me.

"Ricky, I'm sorry about that, but I didn't have anybody else I trust enough to let all that out with except you. Thank you for being here for me."

"Don't be sorry. I don't have anybody either so I understand. You can cry on my shoulder any time you want."

Barbara gently pulled my hands from around her waist and smiled.

"I'm so glad you think that. Up until today, I thought I'd probably be alone in the world. Now, I don't think I will be."

I don't know why I did it, but it seemed like something I should do. I put my arms around Barbara, hugged her and said, "Mrs. Wilton, as long as I'm alive, you'll never be alone."

She smiled again.

"I might just hold you to that. Now, I'll make us something to eat. I can't send one of my men back to college on an empty stomach."

She drove me back to Nashville that evening, and just before I got out of the car, she handed me a box.

"I bought myself a cell phone a month ago, and they had a plan where you could get two for the price of one so I got another one for Jason for when he comes home. Since he...well, I want you to have it. You don't have a phone at all, and you might need to call somebody, like if you get sick or if you just want to talk to somebody about something."

I tried to resist, but Barbara insisted. I finally relented and took the box. She smiled then.

"I charged it up and everything. I'll call you when I get home just to make sure it works. Would that be all right?"

"Sure. You can call me anytime."

I was sitting down with my calculus book when she called. I wasn't really up to solving equations involving complex integrals, so we talked for about half an hour. Barbara thanked me again about fifteen times, and I kept saying she didn't need to thank me for helping out a friend. Just before she hung up, she asked if I had any plans for Thanksgiving.

"I always fixed Thanksgiving dinner for Jason and myself. It'll be just me this year and that will just remind me of him. Won't you come and have dinner with me?"

I couldn't tell her no, so I said I'd be happy to. Once she hung up, I realized I was happy. Just like the Christmas before, Barbara wanted me to be in her life and that felt really good. It felt so good I went back to my calculus book and finished my homework.

Barbara started calling me on Sunday afternoons after that. She'd always ask how I was doing in school and if I needed anything. I didn't realize just how isolated from everything and everybody I'd kept myself until she started those calls. I didn't really have any friends at school or at work. I just went to class or to work and then came home and studied. Weekends were just more study and an extra shift at the restaurant if I could get it. I started looking forward to her phone calls.

She called the Sunday before Thanksgiving to ask if I'd mind if she picked me up on Wednesday afternoon instead of Thanksgiving morning.

"I usually start my turkey roasting about six so it'll be done by about two. If I pick you up on Thursday morning, it'll be after five before we can eat. I'll make up Jason's bed for you to sleep in."

I glanced at my work schedule on the wall beside the table I used as a desk. I was scheduled to work Wednesday night, but I thought I could probably talk my way out of that. There wouldn't be many people eating out the night before Thanksgiving.

"Sure, Wednesday afternoon will be fine. What time?"

I was waiting at the curb at two on Wednesday afternoon when Barbara drove up. I tossed my duffelbag with a change of clothes and shaving kit into her back seat and then got in the front.

Barbara didn't say much until we got out of the Nashville traffic, but once we did, she started telling me about what we were having for dinner.

"We'll have turkey, of course, and I hope you like corn bread dressing. That's what I always fix, oh, and sweet potatoes and creamed peas. I got some rolls at the grocery store that I'll stick in the oven to finish baking, and I made a pumpkin pie this morning. How does that sound?"

I said it sounded like I was going to eat myself into a coma and she laughed.

"I know, but holidays are special and should make you happy. That means eating too much is a good thing because it does make you feel happy. Being happy is all that matters."

It felt a little odd to put my things in Jason's room. Barbara hadn't changed anything about it that I could see, so it was sort of like I was visiting again except Jason wasn't there. It did make me smile to see the pictures of us both she kept in the hall.

After the dinner she fixed for us, we watched a movie on TV. When it was over, Barbara said she was going to get ready for bed and she'd tell me when she was done in the bathroom. I sat on the couch while she did whatever it was she did and started watching the re-run of an old cop show. About half way through that show, Barbara came into the living room to tell me she was done. I took a leak and then went to Jason's old room. It wasn't easy to fall asleep. All the things Jason and I had done when I came to visit kept coming back to me.

I woke up the next morning to the smell of coffee and frying bacon. After dressing, I went into the kitchen and found Barbara in her usual jeans and shirt standing over the stove. She smiled.

"How do you like your eggs, over easy or sunny side up? I always want my men to have a good breakfast on Thanksgiving since we'll be eating dinner late."

I grinned back at her. She'd called me "one of her men" again, just like I was really one of the family. Unless you grew up like I did, you can't imagine how great that feels.

I helped Barbara with the farm chores that had to be done so she could finish up early. When we finished, she said we'd better get ready for dinner. I changed into the best clothes I had which meant a clean pair of jeans and a well-worn white shirt. Barbara changed into a dress that hugged her curves and reminded me that she was a woman instead of just Jason's mom. It felt a little odd to think of her that way, but I did. I also decided she was pretty when she fixed her hair and put on some makeup. That day was the first time I'd ever seen her do that.

Thanksgiving dinner was all Barbara had promised and then some. The turkey was great, the dressing fabulous, the creamed peas smooth and tender, and the sweet potatoes were smothered in brown sugar and butter. By the time she brought out her pumpkin pie, I was already stuffed. It would have been rude to refuse that pie and also my loss. She served me a wide wedge drowning in a mountain of whipped cream that I couldn't resist.

All day, I'd been waiting for Barbara to say something about Jason, but that didn't come until we were sitting on the couch after dinner. She asked if I was full enough. I just laughed and said if I moved too fast, I'd probably explode. Barbara laughed back, but then her face turned first serious, then sad.

"I just wish Jason could have been here."

"I know. I miss him too."

"Sometimes, late at night, I think I hear him in his room. I always go to check, but of course he's not there. Does that make me crazy?"

"No. You just miss him like I do. I had a hard time falling asleep last night because I kept remembering all the things we used to do here."

Barbara smiled a little.

"Yes, for a city boy, you took to country life pretty fast. My Bobby, he was my husband, my Bobby was like that. He grew up in the city but thought he wanted to be a farmer. I was raised on a farm, so I knew how things should be done. Bobby was pretty hardheaded about doing things his way, but once I showed him how my way was better, he started listening. By the time Jason was born, it was like he'd been a farmer all his life.

"Bobby hoped Jason would like living on the farm and continue to run it when he couldn't. Jason seemed to like raising goats and chickens. I don't know what possessed him to join the Army because there was enough income here for us both. If he'd just stayed home he wouldn't have...wouldn't have...Oh, Ricky, I miss him so much."