one man’s life in three phone calls
he was sitting next to me, on the subway, clutching a bundle of official looking papers and staring very, very intently at them. as if, perhaps staring would make them go away, or change into a dove or something. he was young-ish, hispanic, rather bulky, with dark eyes and pretty lips. he looked about 24. after staring at the papers for long enough to burn a hole through them, he pulled out his cell phone and made three short phone calls.
“hi, mom? hi. did i wake you up?”
“okay. i’m okay. yeah.”
“well, here’s the thing -”
“no, i’m fine, i just got my papers this morning.”
“tomorrow. report to base. texas. and then turkey. then saudi.”
“yeah, mom. it’ll be fine.”
“no, i haven’t told her yet.”
“okay, ma. i’ll call you later this afternoon. got errands to run. gotta shave my head and -”
“it’ll be okay.”
“bye.”
he put the phone away, and looked out the window for a little bit. pulling the phone out again -
“hi, honey. did i wake you?”
“yeah? how’d it go?”
“that’s good. tell her i say hi.”
“listen, baby, i got some bad news.”
*laugh*
“no, it ain’t that. we’re going to have to push back the wedding.”
“you know that’s not – listen, okay, i want to marry you. its that i got called up.”
“yeah.”
“overseas.”
“saudi, mainly.”
“listen, don’t cry, it’ll be okay.”
“tomorrow.”
“i don’t know – couple weeks? months?”
“it’ll be okay.”
“i love you.”
visibly shaken. man doesn’t put the phone away, he makes one more call.
“hey, dude.”
“yeah.” *laugh*
“got called up, man.”
“tomorrow.”
“saudi.”
“no shit.”
“you free after work?”
“meet me at jimmy’s?”
“see you then, bro.”
two stops later, man was still staring at those ominous, crisp white papers. calling him to fight. calling him to the middle east, weeks or months before this nation steps on the path towards the destruction of sadam’s regime. it doesn’t matter to him whether half of new york’s elite sits at elaine’s and debates the theoretical necessity of war. the motives. the political smoking guns.
he had to call his mother and tell her that her baby was going overseas. he had to call his girlfriend and tell her they’d have to postpone the wedding. and lastly, he called his buddy. tonight, they’ll probably sit at a bar and stare at the walls and find things to say that won’t break any hearts. those three phone calls – those were this man’s reaction to the war.
as i got off the train, i looked at him and said, “good luck, man.”
he held my eyes for a minute. he knew i’d heard, even though he’d been talking very quietly. he said, “thanks.”