The Soldier Next Door

As the shadows grow longer, I exhale deeply. Night is coming, and it feels both a shelter and an interminable hole where I find myself.

Wherever I turn in my life, it seems that all the exits are blocked, the options for freedom or choice dwindling or limited. The drumbeat and drone of a persistent hopelessness play out their mournful rhythm. Life is closing down on me.

All throughout life, I get these rippling tidal waves of doubt, fear, and loneliness. I tend to put myself down more than I can get myself up. I see the world with a grain of salt because I have been dangerously walking through a road covered by fog.

There is the tendency to give up rather than push on until the fog has cleared. The worst part of it all is when a fork comes in the road, and both paths fill me up with crippling resistance.

With the uninvited feeling comes the darkest moments in my life.

What is my purpose?”

That question haunts and taunts me like the skeletons in my closets. It makes me question the reality I am living.

I can say that I have been through times where I have wanted to give up, where I have seen my present and forgotten that I had a future. I saw my tears and saw the disappointment I had for myself. I found myself worthless in the eyes of others and felt that it was me against the world.

I have opened Pandora’s box and found myself in a hole of despair where light shall not soon be seen.

I nearly killed a man.

I nearly killed a man because my wife kept secrets from me.

This seems to be the story of my life.

We are all living stories. And let’s face it — every really good story is far from flat. Everybody loves a juicy tragedy. A frightful thriller. Until, of course, it’s their tragedy or their fright.

But that’s a damn shame because who knows? All of my scary and tragic shit could be prepping me to tell one helluva good story.

That’s why I belong here. Right here, wherever I am. No, I know. Life sucks, and the shit I am going through is terrible. I’m not denying any of that.

But I walked into a man’s house and held a gun to his head.

Now I have a slightly confused Ray that has rushed to my side, and let me tell you that the man is disappointed to the depths that I stooped.

“For godsakes, Ethan, could you just not reason with the man? You fucking nearly killed someone that was, okay; I believe he was armed, but still. This is not what a Marine does. This is not the code.”

With a head that only drops down to my feet, I find it hard to describe to him what it was what I was thinking, yet I cannot tell him, “I wish I could give you a reason, and perhaps telling you that I was fucking angry is not reason enough.”

“Ethan,” he slowly reaches out and lays his hand gently over mine. “You can lose everything that you have worked for.” Then he pauses for a brief moment, “You are the talk at the top right now, and I can tell you the man is not happy.”

“Ray, how do you explain that you were trying to protect your family? Yes, I could have used my fists…”

And then he immediately stops me, “You could have used nothing. The fact is that you should have spoken to Ana before you went there.”

“Ray, I somehow think that it would not have made a difference, for I still would have gone.”

Believe me, here where I am; I have lost hope. I know what it’s like to doubt I have got much more than even an hour left in you — let alone a whole ‘another day.

Yet here I am. Making into my own darkness.

And I don’t know if there is a way out.

Now, I don’t believe that any pain or despair is “meant to be.” But this was my own doing. But I get to decide whether or not I am going to let my wounds go ahead and dictate who I am. Or if I’ll use them to change my life for the better.

I am not my wounds. Hell, I am not even my blood or my scars or my pain.

So as Ray shifts one inch closer to me, “Ethan, I don’t know how we are going to get you out of this one unscaffed. If the man by some miracle comes forward and say that it was all an accident.”

“Well, Ray, once is an accident…Twice constitutes as doing it on purpose.” Then I pause for a brief moment, “Where is the fool in any case?”

“He is in recovery. Let us just say your poor ass shooting only got him two minor wounds in the chest and shoulder.”

I cannot help but burst out in a fit of laughter, “That was just enough to make the bastard hurt. Guess that one blew up in my face.”Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

“Why the fuck did you not come to me? You know that I would have helped you sort out the shit.”

“Ya, then we both would have been sitting here. Now, what do they intend to do with me overnight?”

“Well, and god, it is fucking hilarious, but they are seeing you as a threat.”

“A man that can barely fucking walk, a threat?”

“Hey, you just shot a man twice; you are a threat.”

This is not going to be easy where I find myself. It feels like I am breaking down in a million pieces, yet you shall not see my fear.

But I am not discouraged.

I know that I belong here. 

It can be my downfall if I let it.

Even when I am going through the darkest days that feel longer than you ever could have imagined, hope is not extinct. There is still a place for hope to thrive. There is a way for me to do much more than only survive.

Even if I feel too weary and used up, my story isn’t over. There are so many chapters. I don’t need to have my storyline neatly packed away or tied up with no loose threads.

If I am breathing, my story is still alive too. Let it wander freely. Don’t worry about it running wild. Perhaps a little recklessness would do my whole life a world of good.

Perhaps not shoot a man.

“So,” I look at Ray, “What am I looking at here?”

“Attempted murder. I am not sure of you sentence, with you will be dishonorably discharged. Your live Ethan, it is fucking over.”

I throw my hand through my hair and growl from the depth of my chest. “How the fuck can I be so stupid. I have lost everything, every-fucking-thing. Ana, the baby, and the Marines. These fucking Jenkins men have been nothing but a thorn in my side.”

“Hey,” Ray grabs me by the shoulder, “There is light out of here, just don’t give up. I will go find this Brendan and speak to him. I can’t make you any promises, but we can at least fucking try.”

Every single one of us could live our lives out like a sad sob story. There’s more than enough pain to go around for that. But maybe what nobody ever told you is that you don’t have to be defined by your broken dreams.

I am a living, breathing story.

Yes, and I am on the goddamn front page of the newspaper.

But nobody else can live my tales like me. They can’t tell my story. Not like I can.

Living, breathing stories, moving about time and space in endless ways. Don’t you think there’s some kind of magic in the vast experience we so often write off to monotony?

What if I knew and honestly believed that the broken chapters of my story wouldn’t be my ending? What would I do differently if I fully knew that this is not the end for me? Or that my story might even live on if I write a great one?

So as I take this thought in that Ray believes there is hope, I cannot help but laugh at him, for all I do is feel hopelessness, “Ray, I just don’t want to lose my family. I know I have lost my career, but I will die if I have to lose my baby.”

“Ethan, just wait until I speak to the man. But as I say, I can promise you the world, and the world is not letting you out of here tonight. So I guess you must start making yourself comfortable; you are in for a long one.”

Ya, maybe my story feels dark and irredeemable right now. I hope I choose to turn things around anyway.

Because there is a place for me. 

I belong here. 

In this space where there is nothing but darkness and despair.

I might feel a little or a lot like an outcast, but outcasts have a secret the rest of the world still hasn’t understood. My wounds are a deep opportunity for my purpose. My tears are another reason to see another day. It won’t always be like this forever. You won’t always feel dark and alone.

There are better things ahead, much greater than any sting. And my losses add insight to my purpose. I don’t have to feel it today. But if you hang on and seek out my magic, you’ll live through a more brilliant chapter than I ever imagined.

I will live to see another day and let my story run free.

And free is what I am not going to be today. But just as Ray is about to get up, I have Ana entering. Her face is the last I wish to see right now.

Yet she walks on over to this dark hole, then she softly whispers…