The Spanking Stories Ch. 02: Memento

All through the days preceding his departure he had joked about building body-armor out of pots and pans to bring along, and about earning "combat pay", though he knew very well he'd be nowhere near the fighting. And when she'd delivered him to the transport plane he'd stood in front of her at mock-attention and tossed her a snappy salute...before seizing her and bending her backwards in a huge kiss, drawing cheers and whistles from the other men and women aboard. Which was fortunate because it drowned out the sound of the stealthy farewell slap on the behind he'd given her as he whispered his love for her.

He'd blown her a kiss from a window as the plane began to taxi toward the runway.

They'd talked often during those two weeks, though their conversation was constrained by the fact that their calls were being monitored. But Susan had mentioned a few chores she'd "neglected" to do and he'd replied that he would "take care of things" when he returned—and that had had to be enough.

Ironic: That she hadn't mentioned the welcome-home present she'd gotten for him—she'd wanted to surprise him. She ‘d gotten in touch with his old fraternity and now, still leaning in the corner by the front door, where she'd hoped he'd find an immediate use for it, was a huge wooden fraternity paddle. She couldn't bear to look at it.

Ironic: That he'd been due home today. Memorial Day. A day of remembrance for servicemen and women who'd given their lives in the line of duty. And she, ‘Soldier Sue', was sitting here, while Morey...

Ironic: That Morey's plane, out of all the military flights leaving Iraq, should stray into the wrong airspace at the wrong time.

The call had come while Susan had been setting the table for dinner. The details were still sketchy; they hadn't been able to get to the site, might not be able to for who knows how long. All they'd had was the passenger manifest.

Susan knew she should be making calls. His parents, for God's sake. The university. Friends and relations. A memorial service.

Memorial... What was that Latin phrase he'd been so fond of...the one he always quoted when he thought that he, or Susan, or someone they knew, was taking life too seriously?

Memento Mori.Remember that you are mortal.

She could hear him right now—could see the wry smile and the self-mocking finger-wag with which he always accompanied this pronouncement. Christ--why had she ever married a philosophy professor?

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would sober up and take care of things. Oh, God..."Take care of things." She couldn't stand it...she couldn'tstandit! She felt a shriek welling up inside of her, a scream that would only be the first of many screams...she might never, ever stop...

The front door banged open.

Then: his voice--calling her name, asking why in hell there weren't any lights on—coming towards her.

Susan lurched out of her chair, forgetting that she was still quite drunk, and fell sprawling to the rug. But she managed to call out his name...

...Just as the hallway light went on. She looked up, and there he was, framed in the doorway, carry-on bag slung over his shoulder.

She continued to lie there, stunned, as he groused about the fucking Army driver who'd been late and made him miss his flight and how he'd had to wait hours for another one and what a hell of a welcome this was, coming home to a dark house and an apparently drunk wife...

But by then she had stumbled to her feet and he never did get to finish his rant because she threw her arms around him and squeezed him so hard he could hardly breathe, much less speak. And she cried and kissed him and drew back to look at him to be sure he was really there...then started all over again, breaking into a grin as she realized that he was probably thinking she had really missed him while he was away. He had no idea.

Finally she recovered herself enough to speak. She took him by the shoulders, looked into his eyes, though her own were still blurry with tears, and said, "You're absolutely right, darling. I'm so sorry. Wait right here."

Then she ran to fetch the paddle.