Chapter 15 - The Radio Stayed Quiet
Three months later, I ate in the same mess hall.
Different table.
Same bad gravy.
Mason was still off instructor duty.
His future assignment had not been decided.
Alan remained at Fort Grayson, although retirement paperwork had appeared on his desk twice and disappeared twice.
My father called most Sundays.
Not every Sunday.
We were not suddenly easy.
That helped.
The mess hall had mostly forgotten the incident.
New trainees always replace old gossip.
A private at the next table dropped a fork.
Someone laughed.
Normal.
I ate.
The wall radio crackled.
My hand stopped for half a second.
Static.
Then a routine logistics call.
Nothing about me.
I kept eating.
Across the room, a soldier I barely knew raised a metal bottle.
“Hayes.”
I looked over.
“What?”
“You want water?”
“No, thanks.”
He nodded and moved on.
No one watched my face.
That still felt strange.
My phone buzzed.
Dad.
A photograph.
The silver wings sitting on his kitchen counter beside an old picture of Mom pinning them on him.
Underneath:
Thinking about putting these back in the display case. Too dramatic?
I smiled.
Then typed:
Very.
Deleted it.
Typed:
Your choice.
Sent.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Reappeared.
Finally:
You really hate helping now.
I laughed.
A trainee across from me looked up.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
My phone buzzed again.
This time Mason.
We had not spoken in weeks.
I almost ignored it.
Then opened the message.
Dad gave me the flask.
That was all.
I stared at the screen.
Another message arrived.
I don't know why.
I thought about answering:
Ask him.
Too easy.
I typed:
What are you going to do with it?
Mason responded after a minute.
Don't know.
I looked at the wall radio.
Silent.
At my tray.
Still on the table.
At my boots.
Clean except for dust.
Another message:
Part of me wants to throw it away.
Then:
Part of me thinks that would be another way of deciding the story is over because I'm tired of it.
I read that twice.
I didn't tell him what to do.
Instead I wrote:
Then don’t decide today.
He reacted with nothing.
No thumbs-up.
No answer.
Maybe he hated the advice.
Maybe he needed it.
Not mine to manage.
I put the phone facedown.
The radio crackled once more.
A voice called for somebody else.
Nobody froze.
I finished lunch.
Outside, aircraft crossed the bright sky beyond the windows.
May you like
I watched until they disappeared past the roofline.
Then I carried my own tray back.
