The Window
by Elaine Troisi
Something woke me. Instinctively, I knew Gray was not beside me. Bright moonlight filled the room, and I was not surprised to see Gray’s silhouette at the window, his tousled hair like a halo. I’d grown accustomed to the strange nocturnal habit, although his window-watching was the subject of gentle teasing for these ten years.
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| Guarding the Perimeter |
What drew me from my warm bed on that particular wintry night to stand at the window with Gray I cannot ever know. Some primal instinct to protect him, or perhaps the simple desire to slip my arms through his and draw him close. He didn’t seem aware as I roused from bed and padded across the bare floor to the window where he stood.
A sideways glance at his furrowed brow and tense jaw, and I knew he was somewhere else, somewhere I was not permitted entry, someplace not moonlit and safe. Dare I speak, or would my words shatter like glass?
I pressed my face to the window, aware of the frost etchings at the corners of the panes, sparkling in the moonlight. Gray did not move. His breath created a mist on the windowpane as he leaned his forehead against it. I felt alone at the window, and cold.
“What is it that you see?” I asked him then, a mere whisper.
A long pause; it seemed he neither heard me nor sensed my presence. I was about to return to the warmth of our bed and leave him to this other world.
“The camp.” He said it so softly that I wasn’t certain he had spoken. Still, I waited for a chance that there might be something …
“Where are you, Gray? What are you doing there?”
“I’m guarding the perimeter. That’s my job.” Emotionless and cold, like the night.
I felt a shiver along my spine. It was the icy prick of fear. Something wasn’t right. I wanted to run back to my bed and pull the covers over my eyes. But something stronger than fear made me stay.
“Can you tell me about your duty?” My lower lip quivered.
“I’m the only person on duty tonight. It rests on my shoulders to keep my comrades alive, even if it means drawing my weapon on a woman wearing a necklace of grenades, or a child approaching in the darkness.” He turned to me then, and his face broke. His voice broke. “Yes, a woman, Corinne, really, just a girl! Do you understand?”
His agony … that is what I heard. No, that is what I felt, deep in my bones.
“Oh, Gray!” I was on my knees beside him now, holding him. “I wish I had known. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know.”
He was sobbing, his voice a rasp. “The things I did, Corinne! In the war. For the cause of peace! Ha!” His voice was a rasp. “You married a monster.”
“Never a monster! Don’t you know. Gray? Don’t you realize that you were the victim, too?” We were slumped on the floor now, a taut embrace.
“I’ve wanted to tell you, Corinne, but how could I begin to describe the war? Of Vietnam? The things I saw, the things I did. How could I tell you all that … without losing your love?”
“Oh, my darling. You can tell me now, and nothing you say can damage the love I have for you. It’s in not telling me these things that can really hurt us! Please tell me you understand!”
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| Compassion |
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