Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
BYRON
“Johnson!”
I looked up, shocked at the sound of my name during mail call. I never got letters. There was no one to write to me. I had no friends or family back home…no one outside of these barracks who gave a fuck if I lived or died over here.
“Who’s writing to you?” Tony Erickson asked, his gaze locked on the letter gripped in my hand.
“Maybe, it’s my Hogwarts letter,” I shot back.
“Probably just a notification that his car’s extended warranty is about to expire,” Carlos Sanchez teased as he tossed himself onto his bed and ripped into his own mail.
I gave them both a middle finger salute as I walked back to my desk and sat down, turning over the envelope in my hand. The penmanship on it seemed feminine to me, too flowy and curly for a man’s writing. My confusion increased. I didn’t know any women. I’d never even had a girlfriend, so it couldn’t be an ex reaching out.
Finally, unable to stand the suspense, I tore open the envelope and shook out the letter inside. Scanning over it, I felt a sense of disappointment flood through me.
I was someone’s class project.
Fucking fabulous.
I’d spent my entire childhood being a charity case, and now, a million miles from the U.S. someone else had slotted me right back into that role.
Blowing out a sigh, I threw the letter into a drawer and slammed it shut. I didn’t need this.
“Drills!” I barked, bringing the squad to attention.
There was a ripple of groans, but they all began to suit up. The other divisions called us Suck Squad, and honestly, we did our best to live up to that name. We were the outcasts, the group that never really did well with authority but absolutely killed in our perspective skills. We were too good to get kicked out, but too unwieldy to stick any other authority with us. So, the Army banded us together, and put us in the desert to protect and serve, but no one had to deal with us.
“Move out!” I yelled, watching the men file up and head out the door. With one last glance at the drawer in my desk, I followed them. Maybe, some running and shooting would take my mind off of my disappointment.
* * * *
As I lay in bed that night, my mind kept returning to Livvy’s letter. In fact, I’d been distracted all day and had cut the drills short because my heart hadn’t been in it. Not that the guys cared. They didn’t even need them, but we had to report a certain number of them every month, and I’d been lax in making them actually do them.
With a sigh of frustration, I got up and went into my office, flicking on the lamp then pulling out the letter and reading it over a couple of times.
Livvy seemed…nice. I actually liked the chatty nature of the letter. As I focused more on what she’d said, I realized my anger was completely misplaced. A knee jerk reaction to years of trauma that I’d always resisted dealing with.
I pulled out some paper and a pen, and started writing before my brain could catch up with what a stupid idea it probably was.
Livvy,
I have to admit to being surprised at receiving your letter. Thank you for taking the time to write to me. It was actually the first correspondence I’ve received since being deployed.
Unfortunately, I can’t share my location, you were right about that. But let’s just say I’m currently in the armpit of the world. It’s excruciatingly hot during the day and cold enough to freeze your… Well, it’s pretty chilly at night.
Since you will be writing again, please just call me Byron. The titles have never meant much to me, and mean even less over here. Most of what we actually call each other is too impolite to share in proper company anyway.
Your family life sounds incredible. I’m an only child, as far as I know. I actually grew up in foster care so while I was surrounded by other kids as you must have been, they weren’t actually my family. I have no idea where my blood relatives might be, nor do I really care. I’ve never much minded being a loner anyway.
I stared down at what I’d just written and wondered what had made me share that with a stranger. It seemed way too personal, and for a moment, I considered ripping up the letter and forgetting the whole thing.
But then I realized that maybe admitting some of my truths to a stranger would be a little cathartic. It wasn’t as if I’d ever meet this woman. And if we were going to write to each other, what harm was there in letting out a little bit of honesty?
One of the men in our squad, Carlos, also comes from a big family. He pretends to bitch about it, but we can tell that he loved it. I think he has two older brothers and three younger sisters, so not quite as large as yours, but enough kids to be getting on with.
I’m unfamiliar with letter writing, so forgive me if I ramble or jump from topic to topic. I will do my best to stay cohesive for your sake. Since you are required to write to me again, I should at least give you something to talk about so you aren’t bored out of your mind.
You asked about a few of my favorite things. And while I’d love to sound cultured and impressive, my tastes run pretty pedestrian.
I haven’t seen a movie in many years, but my favorite has always been Star Wars. The why isn’t a mystery really. It was shown most often at our group home growing up, and I always thought it would be exciting to fight bad guys in space.
As for food, I’ve always been partial to pizza, but if I’m being honest, the thing I’ve craved most since being deployed is a big juicy cheeseburger and an ice cold bottle of American beer at a dive bar with bad music on the jukebox and sports on the television. I don’t think the why is too hard to understand on that one, either.
Like I said, basic.
I look forward to hearing your answers to those questions. And I’d like to add a third if that’s okay.
What is your favorite thing to bake?
I can personally heat a can of beef stew to the perfect temperature with a disposable lighter, but I couldn’t bake to save my life. Too much like chemistry, and I sucked at math.
I know that you are doing this for a grade, but I want to thank you for writing to me anyway. You said the letters were sealed, and no one could read what we said to each other, so you very easily could have jotted down some nonsense and stuck it into an envelope. But you took the time to write something real to me, and I appreciate that.
I look forward to your next letter.
Byron
Before I could think on it too hard, I folded the paper, shoved it into an envelope then sealed and addressed it. I couldn’t figure out what had come over me when I’d started writing, but what I’d said was true. I had been miffed at first, but the more I read over her words, the more I realized she was reaching out. Really looking to connect with me. I wasn’t her charity case. I was a human being on the other side of the world, and she wanted to talk to me.
I couldn’t turn down a gift like that. Maybe, we could even become friends. Wouldn’t that be wild?
I tossed the letter into the outbox and went back to bed. Tomorrow would take care of itself.