We're a Wonderful Wife Ch. 08

When General Davis clipped the medal on her dress, Lanh realized what all the hoopla about those pretty bits of ribbon on the uniform is all about. It's not about collecting them like trading cards, Don has a bunch of them on his uniform and he used to work hard to make sure they were straight and in the right order. It's not about the ribbon or the medal at all, it's knowing that someone noticed your efforts and cared enough to recognize you. It was standing here with a three-star general who has ten thousand airmen and three times as many civilian contractors working directly for him, and that general drops everything to come to you and he says, "I know what you did and how hard you worked, thank you." It was something she learned with those young girls thinking they're all grown up and finding out that being married to an Air Force airman is tough and their world starts to collapse. Sometimes finding out that somebody gives a damn is worth everything to them.

When the presentation was complete the teens filling the gym started chanting "Nhanh lên! Nhanh lên!" Lanh's smile was huge, they remembered! Little did she know but her shouts of encouragement when training Don and Rosa became sort of a battle cry, a cheer of sorts for the swim team at Grant Valley High.

Then Johnny began to read again, "Certificate of Appreciation. Dear Mrs. Campbell, on the occasion of your husband's retirement I wish to personally thank you for your dedication..." and Lanh didn't really hear the rest, she just clung to Don's arm both glad and filled with sorrow that this part of the journey was over.

At the conclusion of the recitation, a framed copy of the certificate was handed to Lanh, along with a bouquet of long stem roses in her favorite color -- the pink of rose quartz. Sandy and Mai were presented red roses as a thank you for loaning Don and Lanh to the USAF. This time the students began chanting "Di di mau! Di di mau!" Through her laughter Lanh saw the confused look on Annie's face, and she realized that she had some explaining to do.

"We have one final presentation" announced Johnny, a certificate of appreciation to Doctor Tam Johnson and Kim-ly Nguyen for the work they did helping with the injured co-workers of Don at Wiesbaden hospital.

Now it was time to return the dance to the students, the band struck up "On Grant Valley" which sounded a lot like "On Wisconsin" and delivery drivers from the local pizzeria began stacking boxes of steaming hot pizza at the refreshment counter, a gift for the students from the US Air Force Air Combat Command Director of Logistical Support.

PHOTOGRAPH

A crowd of people are gathered at a long table, Don is seated at the head of the table in uniform holding a plaque, obviously in some emotional distress.

The whole family, plus guests gathered at Nguyen's Pho for a post retirement ceremony meal. General Davis and his wife Adel along with Colonel Gilliam and his wife Karen were engaged in conversation with Duong and Ralph. Both veterans wore their American Legion caps and were listening in rapt attention to Buck's stories of flying the B-One, the Bone and the B-52, the Buff. And Colonel Gilliam spoke of flying the antithesis of these monsters, the F-16. Both were veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan and had stories in abundance.

"Gather to the table!" cried Mai clapping her hands together, "Everyone sit!"

The whole Nguyen clan was there, Duong and Mai, their six children who brought spouses and grandchildren, as was Ralph and Sandy. Sandy brought two of her daughters, Stephanie and her husband Rod, and Mary and her husband Wes. As they sat down Lanh looked around and asked, "Where's Don?" He was supposed to be sitting at the head of the table but looking around the crowd as they sat down, he wasn't anywhere in sight.

"Last time I saw him he was talking to Mary and Wes," said Sandy, "but that was a while ago."

Hearing her name, Mary stepped up and immediately got the gist of the conversation. "He asked if he could hold Catherine," said Mary, starting to look worried. Catherine is her nine-month-old daughter.

Just then the wait staff began serving small bowls of Pho as a first course. Rosa walked out from the kitchen to see if the service was going smoothly. "Have you seen Don?" Lanh asked her.

"Yeah," said Rosa jerking her thumb over her shoulder toward the kitchen. "He's cooking."

"Cooking?" Lanh and Mary hurried into the kitchen and there was Don in his shirtsleeves and wearing an apron, stir frying vegetables in a huge wok while instructing Rosa's eldest daughter Chau on using a wok. Sophia was nearby entertaining Catherine who was safely strapped into a highchair. Occasionally Don would hand them all a pea pod to snack on.

"Honey, everyone's waiting for you," said Lanh, her voice showed she was concerned, she knew he wasn't in here to cook, he was here to hide.

"They don't want me out there," said Don, "they want some hero that has the same name as me. He left a long time ago."

"Baby, they came all this way just to see you; Johnny, Royce, Buck, and Dan, they all know what you're going through, they've been there, they understand... they're here for the you that is hiding." She saw that as he stirred the vegetables his arm movements were stiff and ungainly, not the smooth action he's capable of. He had started cooking in the restaurant again as part of his therapy to keep his arms and hands moving. His movements showed that he was definitely in pain. She came up behind him and hugged him close "Come," she said, emulating the firm tone her mother used when concerned for her brood, "you need to sit down."

Don patted her hands and enjoyed the comfort of her hug, then sighed and turned in her arms and gave her a kiss. "Ok, one last time in the monkey suit." He returned to the wok and scooped the vegetables out of the wok into a to-go container, then cleaned out the wok and turned it over to the real cook who was more than happy for the break. "Ok girls, let's go eat supper."

"Supper! It's bedtime," squealed Chau.

"Katie is already full," laughed Sophia and pointed to Catherine who had a pea pod in each chubby fist and was gnawing on another.

As Mary unstrapped her daughter from the highchair, the same highchair Lanh sat in during her youth, Lanh gave Don a questioning look. "She's teething," he said as he rolled down his sleeves and put on his uniform jacket.

He let Lanh lead him out to the table where rather than a standing ovation that he was dreading, he received some good-natured ribbing, especially from Johnny and Royce, and that made him feel good. Being told "Sit your slow-motion raggedy-ass slacker butt down, we're trying to eat," in just the right tone of voice conveys more affection than a bouquet of flowers and a love sonnet for an enlisted man. He looked at Johnny, Royce, Dan, and Buck. At one time each had the power of life and death over him, now they're here as friends. Friends who didn't want his service forgotten.

The menu was beef broth soup followed by a main course of shaking beef with water cress salad, white rice, and shrimp spring rolls. Dinner conversation was light and humorous. At one point Royce asked Annie "You're always talking about Vietnamese food, why don't you feed me like this at home?"

Annie looked him in the eye and said, "There's no Pho restaurants in Beverly Beach Florida."

Adel whooped with laughter, "You tell 'im girl! At my age the only thing I'm able to make is reservations!"

Don was actually starting to enjoy this meal. While not actually a dining out, it's been a long time since he could sit with his fellow airmen and swap lies. (The Navy has sea stories, the Army has war stories, the Air Force has their tales too, but they're honest enough to label them accurately.) The highlight of the dinner was Chau and Sophia explaining why the meal was called Shaking Beef. When stir frying the beef cubes, rather than stir the beef, the chef shakes the wok to make the beef cubes roll. The girls thought that was particularly funny and enjoyed imitating Don's style of shaking the wok. "Shake shake shake shake!" they cried as the moved their arms in circles.

After the meal, they were served German chocolate cake with pecan coconut frosting for dessert. "Mmmm! Good choice," said Annie, "Is this your favorite cake Don?"

Don opened his voice to answer but Lanh jumped in with her own answer. "No, it's MY favorite. I wouldn't dare serve his favorite."

"What's that?" asked Annie, "fruit cake?" Neither Don nor Lanh said a word, but their expressions said it all.

"Seriously?" gasped Adel, "You actually LIKE fruitcake?"

They were nearly drowned out by the laughter, but Royce said, "It was the original field ration."

"It was carried by Roman soldiers," said Johnny, "they carried it into battle as a snack."

"I like the fruit," Don said quietly.

Lanh nodded, "He picks out the cherries and pineapple and eats them all first."

When all had finished eating and it looked like those with young children were getting antsy to go, Colonel Gilliam stood and carried a plaque to Don. Don stood and Colonel Gilliam said "Don, you are one of the finest men who has ever served under me. Some day in the future you're going to want to put your I Love Me wall back up, and those of us in the four twenty nineth would be honored if you could add this to your wall."

The black walnut plaque contained emblems of every unit Don had served in, including his Basic Training Squadron and his Technical Training Squadron. They surrounded a pewter scroll that was engraved with the words from his retirement orders:

To all who shall see these presents, greetings: this is to certify that Master Sergeant Donovan A. Campbell having served faithfully and honorably was retired from the United States Air Force on this day.

It was followed with his date of separation and General Buchanan Davis' signature. Each insignia from each unit had a small gold piece inscribed with the dates of service for each unit. Even his temporary duty deployments were listed and at the bottom was inscribed was the unofficial US Serviceman's motto:

"A true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him." - GK Chesterton

Don looked at the beautiful plaque, too beautiful and meaningful for someone like him, but he knew if he handed it back, they wouldn't take it. Royce and Johnny moved up to either side of him and grabbed his arms as his legs gave out.

"There he goes," said Royce quietly.

"We got him," said Johnny as they eased Don back into his chair.

Lanh started to panic as Don stared at the far end of the table blankly. "It's ok," said Johnny. "It's just demons that he's got to face."

"He's going to need help," nodded Dan Gilliam who turned to Tam and said, "Are you still observing Doctor?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I can't treat him, but I send my observations to his doctors."

Don looked and the opposite end of the table faded away, as did the front wall of the restaurant, in its place was the ramp at Canon AFB. When he heard Royce say "There he goes..." it seemed like his voice came from a hundred miles away.

Don was plunged into a cold somber winter day, a light, icy rain was falling, and he was there in his wheelchair. His friends and family were gone, replaced by the men and women of the four twenty nineth. On his right sat Wendy Adams in her wheelchair, behind him stood Lanh ready to support him as always. Her left hand rested on his shoulder, her right hand on her heart. Don and Wendy sat wearing their leather flight jackets and caps, dark green wool blankets across their laps, the cold wet wind piercing their hospital pajamas. Along with their fellow airmen they held a sharp salute as Cynthia's flag draped coffin was slowly carried past to the waiting hearse.

The civilians assembled either stood quietly with their hands on their hearts or murmured quietly wondering what was going on, who was that in that coffin? Don wanted to scream "SHUT UP! HONOR HER MEMORY..." Instead, he held his anger, he held his salute, his bandaged, splinted hand and arm starting to shake from the pain. The effort it took to hold the salute caused excruciating pain, but this was for his friend, his subordinate, his responsibility. How does he write her final Airman's Performance Report? "She was an incredible, productive airman, an honor to work with right up until the moment she was killed by some ignorant cocksucking jet jockey."

As the command "ORDER ARMS" was given he lowered his hand then turned and saw Clark, Cynthia's husband. He was holding a small boy in his arm; his other hand clasped the hand of a four-year-old girl. "Where's mommy? Where's mommy, daddy?"

"I killed her," muttered Don as tears started to fill his eyes. He tried to suck up his emotions, but he wanted to tell that little girl the truth, he needed to tell her that he killed her mommy.

"What did you say honey?" asked Lanh.

"I did it," said Don, "I killed her."

Lanh gasped and was about to admonish him when he saw Darryl, Wendy's husband. He was walking quickly toward them, leading their son when he caught sight of Wendy and the damage done to her once beautiful, perfectly symmetrical face. The look of disgust and revulsion on his face shocked and horrified Don. Darryl picked up their little boy and left, taking the child with him. The sound of Wendy sorrowful screaming for her husband to come back echoed in Don's head and wakes him in the night for years to come.

Slowly the restaurant returned, and everyone was looking at him, but Don didn't care because the sound of Wendy's shrieks of horror and sadness remained. Waves of nausea and sorrow washed over Don. Behind him Lanh fumbled for a tissue, one of them would have tears that needed to be dealt with, but Don's brothers, Huy and Trung were completely befuddled, "What is going on?" Trung demanded.

Royce and Johnny took them off to the side as Colonel Gilliam and General Davis talked quietly to Don. Chief Brown softly "Every day we lose twenty-two veterans to suicide. Sometimes you can't see the worst injuries. Please keep an eye on your brother, he's going to have days like this."

PHOTOGRAPH

Don and Lanh are laying asleep, cuddling together naked on a mink blanket in front of a gaily decorated fireplace with a fire burning on the hearth. Behind them is a Christmas tree surrounded by gifts. In the shadows is Kim-ly watching.

It was Christmas Eve Eve, the day before the day before Christmas, a day Don and Lanh tend to celebrate also. Lanh and Trung's wife Angela had decorated the Campbell house more extensively than ever and now Lanh and Don have the whole house to themselves tonight which is a rarity. Ralph and Sandy were spending the holiday in Mankato with Sandy's daughter Doris, and Kim-ly is spending the evening with her new boyfriend Tim Tran, a fellow Vietnamese.

Don was crouched in front of the fireplace. He swept out the ashes and now had a merry fire crackling in the andiron on the hearth. He lifted a heavy iron pot full of a hearty Vietnamese style beef stew that Lanh and Kim-ly have been begging for weeks for him to make. He lifted it onto the pot hook and before he could swing the hook arm back into the fireplace centering the pot over the crackling fire, he felt a kind of a snap in his back and pain shot through him, he barely got the pot on the hook. Gasping for breath he put the lid on the pot then swung it over the fire, then he fell back on to his side. The pain was so intense he thought he was going to vomit, but it happens, and sadly he's used to it, he just needs to get up. If he can. As he dragged himself to a chair to pull himself up, he wondered why does she put up with me?

After her shower, Lanh stood naked in front of the mirror combing her hair. A stray thought occurred to her, Don's insistence that she wear glasses. Frowning, she studied her face in the mirror, she saw nothing wrong with the face looking back at her, now that Don is on the mend and Kim-ly is forcing food on her she no longer looks gaunt and worn out. She put her glasses on and saw that they highlighted her eyes, but she didn't see anything special about it. Don called it "Putting frames around twin masterpieces, but Lanh always hated her eyes. In her youth she felt that they singled her out and made her far different from her classmates. It never occurred to her that being so much smaller than those classmates is what made her the butt of their taunts. Of course, at the time deep down she knew it, but for some reason she always blamed the epicanthic fold, the fold of skin that makes Asian eyes what they are.

She took her glasses off and began to apply eye makeup using the style that Kim-ly constantly tells her to use, then she put her glasses on and looked again. Her eyes... maybe they are pretty. Maybe...

She picked up her silk shortie robe off the chair in the corner and caused a cascade of papers. The chair in the corner of the bedroom is better described as a "crap trap" than a chair because it attracts all kinds of things that belong somewhere else. This time it was papers from Don's rehab in Grand Forks. He's been working on handwriting, slowly getting that skill back. She noticed the first line of the assignment, it read "My Very Dear Cô Dâu, my em yêu."

She smiled, Cô Dâu mean bride in Vietnamese, it's how he always addresses letters to her, and they've all been love letters. Em yêu is among the first Vietnamese words Don learned, em yêu is a term of endearment directly translated it meansI love, or you love but either way it means sweetheart or darling or lover or most correctly my love. What the words mean and how they're used can be, like in English, two different things. Sort of like the term son of a bitch; when used by an American it rarely has anything to do with puppies. She sat down on the bed to read.

My Very Dear Cô Dâu, my em yêu

I don't know how to say what is in my heart other than "I'm sorry." When I look back at all of the hopes and dreams that we had I can only see how I utterly failed at each one and dragged you down with me into a cesspool of complete and utter failure. We only planned on six years in the Air Force, and we stayed over twice that long because of me. We wanted children and thanks to me that's impossible now. We planned on taking over the farm, thanks to me that's impossible because I can barely walk to the barn. I can't drive a truck. I can't milk a cow. I can't properly make love to you. I have no words to express how useless I feel and how I hate that I did this to you.

I want you to know that if you want to leave me behind and to strike out on your own and find success without an empty, broken shell of a man to drag you down, then please do. You can go knowing that I am going to cheer you on in every endeavor and every relationship you have.

You have treated me so much better than I deserved, but I can't go on hurting you like this. Yes, I am feeling sorry for myself, but that seems to be the only thing I can do. And worse, much worse, I am feeling sorry for you, and I want to stop doing that. I want to see you succeed, I want to see you grow and flourish. Go.

Go to Colorado, take those positions they offered and make them yours, become the superstar of speech pathology that we both know you are. And if you find a man that can care for you in a way I no longer can, then I will be so happy for you and wish you joy in your future together. Maybe with a man who doesn't have a stain on his record you can adopt and make your life complete. And if it helps, go knowing that I will always, always love you.