What It Is (6 page)

“Absolutely!” I exclaimed. “I have no idea what the hell is going to happen today and you know what, I don’t care!” My late-night tears were long forgotten as I grabbed Justin’s hand and jumped off the couch. I couldn’t wait to run to the recruiting office and sign whatever I needed to sign to get the hell out of the area forever.

Aron’s bedroom door opened and I turned around to greet him. Again, the sight of him made my heart skip a beat; he must have just taken a shower because his hair was all wet and slicked back against his head, and the only article of clothing he wore was a towel that he had loosely wrapped around his waist. Butterflies began fluttering in my stomach and my face began to glow red.

“Good morning!” Aron exclaimed. He nudged past me to walk into the kitchen and start a pot of coffee. “You are going to need this,” he said with his back to me and Justin. “It’s going to be a long day, trust me!” Aron turned around and looked me in the eyes; I was surprised that I was able to maintain eye contact with him. There was something in his eyes and the way he looked at me that made me feel safe and secure.

He has honest eyes
, I thought, and as I opened my mouth to continue the morning small talk Aron said, “You know, Sarah, the military is a pretty tough life, and boot camp won’t be a cakewalk. You are going to spend six weeks getting put through hell physically while some asshole drill instructor is screaming in your face.” He paused and turned back around to finish making the coffee. “I’m just saying, you don’t seem like the type of person that wants to be treated like shit.”

I was dumbstruck by this sudden show of concern and understanding from a man I had just met the day before. I wondered if he somehow knew about my abuse and my troubled past.

Do I look like an abused kid?
I wondered, and immediately I felt ashamed. I glanced at Justin and quietly said, “Oh, you’d be surprised at what I can handle.” I didn’t give Aron a chance to respond before I turned on my heel and rushed into the bathroom and shut the door.

“Aron, don’t freak her out! It’s only six weeks, Sarah, trust me, you’ll be fine!” Justin yelled.

I sat down on the toilet seat and took a deep breath as I thought of what Aron had said, over and over.
You are going to spend six weeks getting put through hell physically while some asshole drill instructor is screaming in your face.
It made me think of Mom and wonder why in the world I would want to get myself into another situation where I felt degraded and worthless. I had no idea why I was joining the military except for the fact that I wanted to get away from that little town and my abusive past. But even if I was joining for the wrong reasons, what was I supposed to do? Go back home and beg Matt to take me back? Move in with Richard and Emily? These were not viable options for me; I had to look out for myself and do whatever it took to make something of myself.
Even if I hate it, it’s just temporary until I find something better,
I thought as I undressed and got into the shower.

After both Justin and I had showered and drank the pot of coffee that Aron had made earlier, we packed up our bags and lugged them back down the narrow apartment staircase. “Why the hell did we drag these up here last night if we were leaving the next day?” I asked Justin crossly as I dragged my clothes across the parking lot to the car.

Justin unlocked the car trunk and started putting bags in. “Because I’m not thinking straight,” he said. “Having you with me threw me a bit.” he paused and stood up. “Don’t take that the wrong way. I just hope I did the right thing here.”

I smiled at him and said, “Justin, you have done more for me in these past couple of days than you will ever know.” I heaved my bags into the trunk and turned around just in time to see Aron running over to us.

“At least he put pants on,” Justin said, laughing. “I’m sure he just wants to say good-bye.”

Aron came to a stop right in front of me and held out a piece of paper. “This is my phone number,” he said. “If you have any problems or happen to be in the area and want to hang out, give me a call!”

I took the paper from his outstretched hand and looked at his beautiful blue eyes again. “Thank you so much for letting us stay with you!” I said and threw myself into his arms to his surprise and mine.

Aron wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me tightly. “Good luck to you, honey!” he said into my ear. I pulled away and smiled at Aron as Justin walked up and shook his hand.

“Good luck to you, sir!” Aron said as he took a step back and saluted the both of us.

I rolled my eyes and got into the car. As Justin and I pulled away I turned around to see Aron still standing in the parking lot watching us leave.

“Justin,” I said, “I really liked him.”

“Yeah, he really liked you too. He couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful you were while you were in the shower.” Justin replied.

My heart soared.
He thought I was beautiful?
I turned back around. “Justin, thank you for telling me that. That means so much,” I said softly.

Justin smiled. “I thought that would make your day!”

I opened my hand and looked at the piece of paper Aron had given me; on it he had hastily scribbled his home phone number and his work phone number and the sentence, “
Call me anytime.
” His chicken-scratch handwriting made me smile as I slipped the paper into my pocket. “So,” I asked, “how much longer?”

“Um…now!” Justin said and pointed to a large building in front of us. I looked out the window and saw the ensigns of the marines, air force, army, and navy on the side of the building and its front yard filled with men and women, some dressed in street clothes like us and others in military fatigues. “I am so excited!” Justin said. “Are you excited?”

“Of course I am!” I answered halfheartedly as I continued to survey the scene around me.

Justin pulled into a parking spot, turned off the car, and turned to me. “Well, this is it! It’s now or never.”

I looked over at Justin and took a deep breath. “Well, this better be it because I have nowhere else to go.”

We got out of the car and started the walk down the sidewalk toward the front doors of the recruiting office where two male military personnel were waiting to greet us. As we approached the doors, one of the men jumped to attention and greeted Justin.

“Morning, son! Are you ready to be all you can be?”

Justin grinned and replied, “Sir no sir! I’m ready for the journey to begin!”

“Ah, a navy boy here!” The man grinned and stepped aside to let Justin past. “And you, ma’am? Are you ready to be all you can be?”

I mimicked Justin and answered, “Sir no sir.” I paused for a second and then continued, “Actually, I have no idea what I want to be.”

“Well,” the man answered, “then march right on down the hall there to the army office and they can help you figure that out.” He patted me hard on the back and said, “Good luck soldier!”

I looked ahead and saw Justin going into the navy recruiting office door, and he looked back and smiled at me. “See you in a little bit,” he called out, then he went through the door and shut it behind him.

I felt very alone and scared at that moment, like I was on a game show and I had a choice of four doors to choose from, each one containing a different prize behind it—or in my case, a different future. I thought of what the military man had said to Justin when we walked up: “Be all you can be!” and the army song ran through my head: “Find your future in the army!”
What do I have to lose? I need a future.
I headed down to the army recruiting office door.

I was greeted by a young man dressed in a military uniform, his chest adorned with colorful ribbons and a short buzz haircut. He grabbed my hand and shook it firmly before saying, “Welcome to the army! I’m Sergeant Wilkinson, and you are?”

His physical appearance and strong handshake made me extremely nervous, and I cringed back a bit before answering, “Sarah,” very softly.

“You are going to have to speak louder than that. What is your name?” His voice wan instantly demanding and had a harsher tone to it.

He sounds like Mom
, I thought.
Oh God, am I making the right decision?

“Sarah Burleton!” I forced myself to say loudly.

Sergeant Wilkinson smiled, showing off his shiny white teeth. “I knew you had it in you,” he said as he circled back around to his desk chair. “Now sit down and tell me about yourself and why you want to join the army.” He gestured to a small chair in front of his desk, and I sat down and nervously folded my hands into my lap.

“Well,” I began, “if you really want to know the truth, I didn’t plan on joining the army until about a minute ago. I just knew I wanted to join the military for the chance to travel and experience new things.” I began to feel like an actress from a television commercial reading rehearsed lines.

Sergeant Wilkinson leaned back in his chair and flashed me another toothy white smile. “Ah. You must be from a small town; we get a lot like you in here.” He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a brochure and a stack of papers and set them on the desk in front of me. “So tell me, what are your skills and interests? Where do you see yourself in five or ten years?”

Five or ten years? I don’t know what I’m doing five or ten minutes from now!
My mind frantically raced to come up with the right answer to his questions and I tried desperately to think of one thing I was really good at, that I could be proud of. I thought of my graduation day and the pride I had walking across the stage to receive my scholarship to business college. “Business,” I managed to get out, “I’m good at writing and business.”

“Writing and business, huh? So you’re a math and English whiz?” he asked.

“Not a whiz,” I replied. “I’m capable, that’s all.”

He opened up the brochure and started rattling off numerous areas within the army that would utilize my writing and math skills to their fullest. I could be a newspaper writer, a data analyst, a logistics analyst; the list went on and on. The more Sergeant Wilkinson and I talked, the more excited I got, and I started to gradually feel better about my decision to walk through the army’s door.

“Well, do you want to start on the paperwork? There’s a MEPS session in St. Louis tomorrow morning, and you could be in basic training as early as Wednesday if everything with your paperwork clears.”

“That fast?” Justin had told me that he thought the process would only be a couple of days, but to actually hear “Wednesday” come out of Sergeant Wilkinson’s mouth made my jaw drop.

“That fast,” he replied. He took a pen and handed it over the desk to me. “So, do you think that the army is the right place for you?”

I took the pen out of his hand. “Well, I guess we’ll see!” I said. I didn’t know what I was doing; I was just going with the moment and taking things minute by minute until I finally reached my final destination of peace and happiness.

I began to fill out the paperwork that Sergeant Wilkinson had on his desk and paused when I reached the medical history page and had to answer whether or not I had prior surgeries. “Sergeant Wilkinson?”

“Mmmhmm,” he responded, looking up from his stack of paperwork. “I’ve had surgery, but I don’t know much about it.”

He put his pen down on the desk and said, “Well, what type of surgery? Appendix surgery or something like that?”

“No,” I said. I stood up and briefly lifted my shirt up slightly to expose a scar located about two inches below my belly button. “I’ve had kidney surgery, or bilateral reflux surgery or something.” I started to hear Mom’s taunts in my head, “Kidney Kate! Kidney Kate!” and I hung my head in shame.

“Or something?” Sergeant Wilkinson asked. “You don’t know what kind of surgery made that scar? This is important, Sarah, what exactly happened to your kidney?”

I felt extremely ignorant because I really didn’t know the circumstances surrounding the surgery I had when I was very young. Years ago, I had read a notation logged into my baby book that said I had something called bilateral reflux and I had the procedure performed in 1984 at Children’s Memorial Hospital in Chicago. The only other thing I knew about my surgery was that I ended up with only one functioning kidney on my left side; the side Mom would kick me in over and over while screaming, “Kidney Kate!” at me during one of her abusive tirades.

I took a deep breath and said, “Sir, I really don’t know. All I know is that I have one functioning kidney, the one on my left side.” I gestured toward my left side with my hand. “I’m really sorry I don’t know more. Is this a problem or something?”

“Well,” Sergeant Wilkinson said, “it very well could be. I might have to double check, but if you only have one good kidney and you aren’t even sure how good it is, I don’t think you would qualify medically for basic training.”

I felt like I had been punched in the stomach, and my knees buckled. I sank back into my chair and looked at Sergeant Wilkinson with my mouth agape. “What do you mean qualify medically? I can handle it!” My tone was becoming angrier and my voice level began to rise drastically. I gripped the sides of the chair and leaned forward, forcing myself to maintain direct eye contact with Sergeant Wilkinson. “Are you telling me that I can’t join the military because I had some sort of surgery when I was five years old? How is that going to stop me from being a writer or an analyst?” It didn’t make sense; I thought this was supposed to be easy. Justin said it would be an “in and out” process and I’d be at MEPS with him and off to basic training before I knew it.
I should have kept my damn mouth shut!
I scolded myself.

Sergeant Wilkinson leaned back in his chair and cocked his head at me. “Sarah, this isn’t going to stop you from being a writer or an analyst or anything you want to be in life. However, there is a risk of you getting injured easily during basic training and it could end up damaging or, God forbid, destroying your only good kidney.” He gave me a small smile. “Maybe this just wasn’t the path for you.”

I leaned back in my chair. “So this means no army, no air force, nothing? You’re saying that no one will take me because of a medical condition?” I was ready to beg, plead, and even get down on my knees if he would just forget I had ever said anything about my kidney.