Traffic was a mess yesterday, and I hate traffic almost as much as I hate being cold. So I did my usual and pulled over for a beer while traffic died down. The place I chose was a Mexican Restaurant with a small bar. And apparently very few people were eating Mexican food that evening.
I was at the bar and there were these two older guys sitting to my left. The bartender was a middle aged Hispanic woman. There was no TV, few people, and just some faint music in the background. I had no choice but to listen to the conversation between these two gentlemen.
Apparently, they were veterans who had served together many years ago. They were catching up on their lives, and reminiscing about old war stories. Being a history buff and a war junkie, I found those stories very entertaining. Yet at the same time I felt this sadness coming over me.
I guess the word to describe my eventual emotion was jealousy. It took me until late that evening to figure it out, but in retrospect I do believe I was jealous of these guys. You see, they had stories they could share and things they had seen and done together. Each of them had put their lives in the other guy’s hands, and each guy made it home a hero. And now they had someone who completely understood where they had been, what they had done, and all the little secrets.
I’ve never been one that felt compelled to talk through things. I’ve always been more of the “keep everything inside” type of a guy (Well, except for this page). And yet listening to these men talk, and hearing about the bond they had between them, I was becoming jealous.
The bartender (does that work for females also?) asked me if I wanted another beer. I was only about half way through my first, and had only planned on one anyway; so I thanked her but declined. She leaned on the bar next to me and said, “Amazing stuff, huh?” as she nodded her head towards the two gentlemen. I gave an embarrassing smile realizing I had been busted for “eavesdropping”.
Then she asked me why I was so quiet. Again, I’m not too big on random conversations so I just said I was tired. Then she asked me if I served, and I replied no. There were a few seconds of silence before she continued by commenting that she can tell I had seen action because she has seen the look I have before. Then she told me her story.
Many years ago she was engaged to a Scout Sniper. Her man was deployed. She found other wives and girlfriends of soldiers and began hanging out with them as they understood the situation. But for her it was different. The other men and women received routine calls and letters while she didn’t. She was told that because her man was a sniper that he would venture out for days or weeks at a time, with no opportunity to communicate with loved ones.
She told me that over time this made her angry. She was hurt that everyone else was getting updates and she was getting no information at all. She admitted that she turned to other men for attention.
Her man did make it home. She said when she saw him at the airport he looked proud and happy. But she was angry and embarrassed. She lit in on him immediately about what she had been going through. She said she watched as all the life just drained from his face.
She told me that it took her about three weeks to realize what she had done to him. She finally had an open and honest conversation with him, beginning with apologizing about her behavior. He told her that the entire time he was deployed, the only person he communicated with was his spotter. He had no other friends as he was never in one place long enough to make friends.
He told her that he had stories that he wanted to share with her. But he had realized that the only person who could understand was someone who had been there with him. He had tried to connect with his spotter, but he had already gone back. He told her he had no one to vent with about his problems, like the other enlisted men and women.
She told me then that they never married, as neither of them could find a way to connect again. She said he became strange, distant and very mysterious. She felt he was having a secret affair. She said that they slowly drifted apart, and finally he quit communicating altogether.
Since then she realized that he needed someone. He had loved her once, and she could have been that someone but she was so wrapped up in her own busy life that she never appreciated how much he wanted her to be that person.
Then she looked me in the eye and told me that what she sees in my eyes is what she saw in her fiancée’s eyes years ago. She said she saw a story that was dying to get out, and she saw that I had selected someone to hear that story. She told me to go tell my story, the whole story.
I guess when you go through something like what that guy went through you probably do need to discuss it with someone who can reassure you that you did what was good and right. That was when I did in fact realize that I was jealous of the two gentlemen at the bar. I was always alone out there. I have no one who would truly understand me.
When I got back I told three people. It didn’t seem to go too well. I never said another word about it for many years. Lately I have been sharing more, but when I do I feel like I am “dumping” my crap on someone who doesn’t need any more crap in their life. Writing it down doesn’t do the trick, and I haven’t even read yet what I wrote down before. I just can’t read it. I did try talking to someone once last year. This person surprised me. As I learned about them I was seeing someone who maybe could understand. But life happens. And just like in the bartender’s story, it didn’t go well and I have recently sort of drifted away from that person.
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