We'll Give HIm A Hearty Welcome Then

“When Johnny comes marching home again, hurrah, hurrah

We’ll give him a hearty welcome then, hurrah, hurrah

The men will cheer, the boys will shout,

The ladies, they will all turn out.

And we’ll all go dancing

When Johnny comes marching home.”

American folk song

1967

Jack closed the door silently, not wanting to wake Jeffry. He heard water running in the sink; Bev was in the kitchen, finishing the dishes from lunch and getting dinner ready. The welcoming smell of stew simmering on the stove filled the air. His stomach growled; he’d forgotten lunch in all his running around.

He looked around at the small apartment, already missing its warmth. After today, he was sure, it would be a cold and uninviting place. The worn brown sofa in the living room was covered with clothes. Bev had been sorting this morning when he left; she’d left the folding for him. There was no sound from Jeffy’s room.

He must still be sleeping, Jack thought.

That little guy packed a lot of living in his waking hours; always moving, always asking questions. Bev was exhausted when Jack came home most days, just chasing and answering and playing with her live-wire son. But Jack knew she loved Jeffy with a fierce fervor. He was a visible reminder of Jack, a product of the love and passion she felt for her husband.

Jack sighed. Do I really want to go in there and tell her? he asked himself. Can I destroy her dreams like that? Do I have the right to ask her to leave all this, to give up everything we’ve worked for all these years?

The shabby furniture, tired from several generations of Holt and Montgomery families —all handed down to the struggling couple to get them through the lean med-school years — were well-used and well-loved. Although Bev complained regularly about the disgrace of an up-and-coming doctor furnishing his home with hand-me-downs and Goodwill-rejects, Jack thought he saw through her posturing. The furniture was filled with memories of her loving family; Bev had been thoroughly spoiled by her brother and her father.

She and Jack had known each other since first grade, when she walked shyly into a new school, her soft blue eyes wide with fear and her wispy blonde hair escaping the band her mother had lovingly put in only moments before. Jack watched her shuffle slowly to the front of the room, holding tightly to her mother’s hand, avoiding the eyes of all the kids who watched her intently, trying to assess the “new kid.” Jack looked up as she passed his desk; one look into those deep blue eyes and he had been caught. He smiled shyly, she answered with one of her own.

From then on, the two had been fast and inseparable friends, and, as they grew, their friendship had become something deeper, stronger. They married three days after high school graduation.

Jack considered Bev his closest friend. With her, he could be anything he wanted to be. Go anywhere he set his heart on going. He could tell her anything, and she would understand. She had supported his dream of medical school whole-heartedly, putting up with this run-down apartment in a degenerating neighborhood in Oakland while he went to school during the day and worked at the hospital in any capacity, usually the dirtiest jobs, at night to earn money to pay his tuition. She had taken a job as a secretary in a large law firm to pay the bills. She hated the smoke-filled office, the loud lawyers, their crass and obnoxious jokes. But she loved Jack enough to put up with it so he could finish school. The rewards, he kept telling her, would come when he was established in a practice. Then the money troubles would be behind them, and Bev wouldn’t have to work to support them.

When Jeffy had come along a few years ahead of schedule, the two of them decided that even though it would be extremely tight, Bev would quit work and raise their son. Jack didn’t want his child to grow up not knowing who his parents were. Jack wanted to see his children grow up, not hear about it late at night after they had gone to bed. Jack’s father Patrick had been around, working his construction schedule to be there for Jack’s ball games, school conferences, and an occasional school assembly. Jack’s proudest moments were seeing his father in the stands when Jack made the winning touchdown at the high school football game, seeing his father’s face when the principal handed Jack his diploma on a sunny, cloud-free day. Jack wanted nothing less for his boy.

His reveries were interrupted by a call from the kitchen.

“Jack? Is that you?” Bev peeked her head around the corner. “What are you doing in the hallway?”

He took a deep breath, trying to get his courage up.

It’s now or never, he told himself. Might as well get it over with.

He walked slowly into the kitchen, his hand clenched tightly in the pocket of his leather jacket. He stopped in the doorway, watching his wife wipe the last of the lunch dishes with a worn dishcloth and place it into the one small cupboard the kitchen boasted.

He smiled as his eyes followed her trim figure. Her blonde hair hung free down her back, swinging with her movements. She wore worn, faded jeans with holes in the knees and an old T-shirt Jack had thrown in the rag pile. He imagined her in silk and jewels, but knew she’d never be as beautiful as she was right now. He wanted to grab her arm and kiss her until she was breathless.

She turned and blushed when she saw him watching her, knowing what he was thinking. Even after seven years of marriage, sex between them was as passionate and wild as it had been when they were newlyweds. Her eyes gleamed with promises of later that night.

“What?” she asked as she pushed past him to check the stew on the stove.

“Nothing,” he smiled. “I just like watching you.”

She smiled.

“You’re late. Busy day?”

He shrugged.

“I had some errands to run.”

She frowned as she remembered what errands he had planned for that afternoon. This Conscientious Objector business had caused several “discussions” — the first disagreement in their otherwise blissful marriage — and she wasn’t sure she agreed with Jack at all.

She kept her eyes on the stove. “Well?”

Jack just pulled the letter from his pocket and handed it to her. She took it after wiping her damp hands on her jeans. The silence grew thick as she scanned it quickly. Finally, she looked up at him.

“Well, that’s it, then.”

“You think so?”

She turned to look at him.

“What do you mean? Your application was denied, and now this appeal has been thrown out. What else is there to do?”

She turned back to the stove.

“You have time to get ready. It’ll be hard, but Jeffy and I will be fine. And one year isn’t that long. It won’t interrupt your studies that much.”

Jack looked at her, his mouth open in shock. She thought he would just drop it right here, pack his duffel bag and shuffle off to basic training without a fight. Did she really not know him that well?

Bev didn’t seem to notice his confusion. She prattled on.

“I know you want me to stay home with Jeffy, but my mom said she’d watch him during the day, and that’s almost as good as Mommy — better, because Grandma spoils him. I’ve got an interview tomorrow ...”

“What?”

Jack thought he’d heard wrong.

She turned to him, exasperation putting a crease in her unlined forehead.

“You didn’t think I would just sit here and not be prepared, did you? I really didn’t think the SSS would go for your CO appeal, so I’ve been calling around. I know it’s been a couple of years, but I still have a few skills left. They might be rusty, but...”

“But you swore you’d never go back to that office again.”

“And I’m not. There are other offices around here needing help. And in the city.”

“You’d drive to the city every morning? You hate traffic. You hate driving.”

You hate working. But he kept that last thought to himself.

“Actually, that’s another thing I’ve been thinking about.”

Bev reached into the cupboard again to pull out three mis-matched chipped china plates. She walked them the two steps over to the small Formica table shoved against the wall. She raised her voice to be heard over the clatter of the dishes.

“Mom and I have been talking. You know how much I hate this neighborhood.” She added quickly. “I realize we haven’t had a choice while you were finishing school. And it’s okay, really. But you’re going to be gone, and...”

She stopped.

“So, anyway, Mom told me Jeffy and I could move in with her and Daddy. Peter left for Basic last month, and his room is big enough for us. This way, I’ll be with my family, and Jeffy will have someone to watch him while I go to work. And I can take the bus downtown, to avoid driving. You’re right. I hate driving.” She laughed merrily.

Then she noticed Jack’s shocked expression.

“What’s wrong, Jack?”

She stood in front of him, standing on tiptoe to kiss his nose. He looked down into her eyes. He saw laughter in them, and the worry deep inside she was trying to keep from him. He loved the way her nose wrinkled when she laughed. Her warm breath on his face sent shivers down his spine, and he again felt the urge to grab her and hold her tightly.

He spoke quietly, expressionless.

“You’ve been thinking about this for a long time, haven’t you?”

“Of course,” she answered just as quietly. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to worry about us more than you already do. Even though I look like a piece of glass, I am quite capable of taking care of myself. I have to, while you’re gone.”

She ducked her head down, half-shutting her lids to hide the tears.

“I’m terrified, Jack. I don’t want anything to happen to you. But I have to face reality. I can’t do it alone. With you gone, I’m going to need help, with finances, childcare... We’re really lucky Mom and Daddy are able to help.”

She looked back at him, her eyes bright.

“But at least you won’t have to worry about us. And we can write every day, so you won’t miss us so much.”

Jack took her in his arms, holding her very close. Her warmth and solid feel made him waver. What had seemed so clear an hour ago now faded out, began to drift away like tendrils of fog.

What am I doing? he asked himself.

Bev misunderstood his mood.

“Don’t worry, Jack,” she whispered. “We’ll be okay, I promise. Just come home when it’s all over.”

Jack pushed her away, looking straight into her eyes. He stared intently, memorizing the joy and laughter in them, burning her face and the love shining out of it into his memory. He’d known she would resist his decision — she’d argued with him when he told her he was applying for CO status. The fact that she had already accepted his fate as inevitable and made all her plans — did she have any room for an alternative?

He loved her more than anything, but she was very stubborn. Once she’d made a decision, there was no changing it, no matter what facts were presented to her. And she didn’t agree with his need to avoid combat. They’d gone around and around it for several days when the notice had first come in.

“Jack, what’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jack turned toward the stove, trying to ignore the passion her touch ignited. The room was too small for him to avoid her. She touched his face softly, her warm hand burning where it touched. He leaned his hands on the counter, trying to find the words he needed.

“Bev, I’m not going to get on that bus.”

“What do you mean? You don’t plan on driving down there, do you?”

He shook his head.

“No. What I mean is, I’m not going to go. To training. To Vietnam.”

He heard her gasp, felt her eyes burning questions in his back. The warmth turned to ice when she pulled her hand away.

He turned to look at her. Her eyes had narrowed into slits, and her expression was cold. She had pulled her arms in to wrap around her body, and she stood still, almost shivering. She seemed small, fragile, very vulnerable. Her voice was frosty.

“What do you plan on doing?”

“I’m going to Toronto. I leave day after tomorrow.”

The temperature in the room dropped about fifteen degrees. All the warmth and love seemed to have been sucked out, leaving only ice and anger.

Bev didn’t say anything. She just looked at him stone-faced.

After a few minutes, the silence got to him. He tried to explain.

“Bev, I just can’t do it your way. I can’t be a part of it.”

“You don’t have to fight. They told you they would put you in a medical unit—you would be a corpsman, helping the wounded. How does that offend your moral responsibility?” Sarcasm dripped from her sharp words.

“The whole thing is wrong, Bev. Killing other people, using machines to blow them to bits? How can I fix that? How can I do any good?”

“How will running away help?”

“If I stay, I have to go do their dirty work, or go to jail. Is that what you want?”

He slammed his hands on the counter, the pain racing up his arm into his shoulder.

“Corpsman get killed, too, Bev. What if I don’t come home? What will you and Jeffy do then? You think just because they put a Red Cross on my helmet the other side won’t be trying to blow my ass to bits? You think my being there is going to do anything for anybody?”

“Are you afraid?” Her voice dripped scorn.

“Hell, yes, I’m afraid. Anybody with a brain would be. I’m afraid I’ll get killed. Scared I’ll never see you and Jeffy again. God, Bev, I’ve got so many plans for us — all of us. I want to see Jeffy grow up, get married, have his own family. I look forward to waking up next to you every morning, living the rest of my life with you.”

He stopped, his voice cracking.

“All my life, I’ve wanted to be a doctor. It’s something I’ve aimed for since I was seven years old. You know that.” He looked pleadingly at her. She ignored his plea. “I want to help people, to make them stop hurting. Watching my mother die so painfully — knowing I couldn’t do a thing to help her — was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, except maybe walking in here today. I just can’t be a part of people hurting other people deliberately.”

“What exactly are you afraid of, Jack. Not being perfect? Not being Super-doctor, able to save sick people with a single touch?”

He looked at her. Her beautiful face was twisted with anger and disgust, and her sarcastic tone masked an anger he’d never heard in her before. The woman standing before him was a stranger, someone he’d never met, never imagined. Where had his loving wife gone? Jack had known she would be angry, but he hadn’t been prepared for this.

“Well, answer me!” Her words got louder, her tone more strident. “What are you really afraid of, Jack? Be honest!”

He looked at her sadly, knowing she would never understand, no matter what words he used.

“I’m afraid I’ll get so used to the killing that I’ll never care again.”

Whatever she had expected, this wasn’t it. Bev closed her mouth, silenced. But the anger in her face didn’t go away. The air grew thicker, the tension heavy and suffocating.

Finally, she spoke. Her words were soft, her voice rough.

“And what about us? What were you going to do with your family?”

Jack reached out to take her in his arms. She pulled away and he flinched, feeling the blow deep in his breastbone. He couldn’t breathe for a minute, the pain shutting his lungs down. The blood pounded in his head. He let his arms fall to his side.

“I have three tickets, Bev.”

She laughed harshly.

“You expect me to run away with you? To take our son and spend the rest of our lives in exile? Away from our families, our homes? Our friends?”

She looked at him disbelievingly. “What were you thinking, Jack?”

“I thought maybe we were a family that would stick together.”

His words made her cringe, but she recovered quickly.

“What will we do in Canada, Jack? What kind of job could you get? Some unskilled $4.00-an-hour job? What would we live on?” She threw up her hands. “What about Jeffy? He’s only three, yes, but someday you’d have to explain to him that we live in a country we don’t belong in. Do you think he’s going to care about your principles, your moral dilemma? All he’s going to know is he doesn’t belong there. We won’t belong anywhere.

“I won’t do it, Jack. I won’t give up everything so you can sleep at night. My family is here — my brother, my parents — I can’t just up and leave. Jeffy is their only grandchild — you want me to take him away from them? My friends, all the things I’ve worked for all these years?”

She stopped as another thought occurred to her.

“What about your dreams to be a doctor, Jack? If you leave, you’ll never be able to come back. And you won’t be able to finish school, have a residency, set up a practice. Have you thought about that? Have you really thought about what this decision of yours will do? Can you live with knowing you’ve thrown away everything? Can you?”

Now she was pleading with him. Jack stood silently, looking for some way to answer her questions.

How can I tell her? I’ve thought about everything she’s brought up. And I know what I would be throwing away. Is it worth it? Am I doing the right thing?

He had no answers for himself, let alone for her.

“I’ve thought about all of that, Bev. Believe me, I’ve done nothing but think since this whole thing started. I’ve gone over it around and around, trying to figure it out. And I don’t know. I have no answers. I know I would be losing a lot. But...if I did go, can you tell me I would be the same person when I came back, with the same dreams and goals? Maybe I’ll be someone else, someone who doesn’t give a damn about anybody’s pain and suffering. Is that the kind of man you want to spend the rest of your life with? The kind of man you want to father your children?”

“Better that man than a coward,” she spat.

“Bev...”

“Don’t ‘Bev’ me. You seem to think this is only about you. Well, Jack Montgomery, you’re wrong. It’s about a lot more than one man and his ethics. It’s about a family — a wife and child — who depend on you. It’s about a father who loves you desperately and has no one else in his life. It’s about a hospital that depends on you. And people who will need you as a doctor. It’s about a country asking you to give something back. It’s something much larger and more important than one little man who’s afraid.”

She backed herself against the wall, using it for support.

“Did you really think about us when you made this decision, Jack?”

As he opened his mouth to protest, she waved her hand at him.

“Oh, I know, you bought us tickets. But did you ever ask yourself if we really wanted to go? Did you ever think I might want a say in all this? Did you ever consider sitting down and talking it over?”

She laughed bitterly.

“No, of course not. Jack Montgomery doesn’t need input from anyone else. He’s so right all the time, whatever he decides must be the only way.”

Her voice began to rise. It echoed in the small kitchen.

“You never ask me anything, just say, ‘This is my decision.’ You didn’t ask me how I felt about this CO crap, just filed the application. You never once asked me what I felt or how it would affect me! I’ve had to face my friends knowing that they think my husband is a coward. And because you never discussed it with me, I can’t tell them what’s going on inside of you. And now, this!”

She threw up her arms.

“Hah! This is going to make for great party conversation. ‘Did you hear about Bev’s husband? He ran off to Canada...’ I know you don’t care what other people think about you, Jack, you never have. And you might think I’m weak because I do. But that’s how I am and ignoring it won’t change it. A real man would have thought of everyone involved, not just his own selfish fears.”

By now her voice was ringing off the walls. From the small room down the hall, Jack heard Jeffy’s quivering call.

“Now see what you did,” Bev snapped at him.

The baby’s voice was thick with interrupted sleep, and he sounded frightened. Jack turned to go to him. Bev grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“Don’t you dare, Jack. He’s my child. Don’t you touch him!”

She ran down the hall and into the room. Jack winced when he heard the door slam. Then he heard her soft murmuring as she comforted his frightened son. Jeffy’s voice answered. Jack couldn’t hear what they were saying, just the rise and fall of their voices.

After a few minutes, the door opened and Bev came out into the hall carrying a bleary-eyed Jeffry. The boy’s eyes widened when he saw his father.

“Daddy!” he crowed, reaching out for him. Bev stared at Jack, daring him to make a move. Jack looked back at her.

Finally, he stepped forward and kissed Jeffy on the head.

“Hey, baby, how ya doin’?” he asked softly, loving the little boy smell and the feel of the soft fine brown hair.

“Down,” Jeffy said and wriggled out of his mother’s arms.

He toddled over to his father and held out his arms. In one hand he clutched the yellow Pooh bear Grandpa Patrick had given him last Christmas. Jeffy’s ‘Foo’ bear never left his side. “Up!” he demanded.

Jack looked over at Bev, asking. She shrugged and went into the kitchen to finish dinner. For her, the conversation was over. Jack reached down and picked Jeffy up. The small child snuggled his head into Jack’s shoulder and sighed contentedly. Jack walked slowly into the living room and sat down on the crowded couch. He pushed the clothes aside and sank back against the cushions. He pushed everything out of his mind, happy to just sit quietly with his son. Jeffy breathed softly, not sleeping, just resting his head on his daddy’s strong shoulder.

Can I really leave him? Jack asked himself. If he and Bev don’t go, can I do what I planned? Is life going to be worth it without them?

The questions ran round and round in his mind, despite all attempts to banish them. Finally, he closed his eyes and yelled mentally for everyone to leave him alone for a while. The combination of the draining fight with Bev and Jeffy’s soft, trusting form put him to sleep.

Jack was knocked out of his reveries as people shoved past him to cross Van Ness Street. He was so caught up in his memories he’d come to a stop in the middle of a crowded San Francisco street on one of the few sunny Saturdays left in the summer. Those who walked into him left their courtesy behind as the tall man with sad eyes stood in the middle of the sidewalk, his mind many years away.

What brought that up, he wondered. He’d managed to push the memories of his last encounter with Beverly so far down in his mind that nothing short of a nuclear blast would have breached the wall. Or so he’d thought.

But now, the memory of his last meeting with his son, 20 years ago, the fight – it call came back so clearly, as if it had happened only hours before. The pain he’d convinced himself had healed came back with a vengeance. He doubled over as his stomach cramped up from two decades of suppressing the agony of saying goodbye to his family.

People went around him, few acknowledging his existence. In San Francisco, it didn’t pay to get too involved in other people’s demons.

Jack had been walking most of the morning, unaware of the sun shining brightly in a cloudless sky. His brown eyes, etched around with deep lines, paid no attention to the people around him who strolled slowly along the streets. Unlike the tall, somber man who walked among them, most people were enjoying the unusually mild Indian summer morning in San Francisco. But Jack walked intently; he barely noticed the soft breeze that ruffled his thick brown hair sprinkled liberally with grey.

When the pain eased, he stood up and looked around, as if newly awakened from a sound sleep. He found himself standing in front of Zim’s at the corner of Van Ness and Geary. The distinctive odor of his favorite breakfast food, combined with the sights and sounds of a Saturday morning in the city he loved, managed to open a path to his fogged thinking.

He had stopped near the corner. Still oblivious to the people who passed him, he looked around. Across the intersection stood the Cathedral Hill Hotel, a large building, fresh and welcoming. Jack was familiar with every angle and color of it; he walked past it twice a day on his way to and from work, never failing to stop and look at it. He marveled at the hold it had on him.

Since childhood, it had been his favorite building. He noted without thinking about it the differences in it. Before the fire, it had been the Jack Tar, a hotel and office building covering the entire block. The offices were still there, but the large globe that had once spun on the roof of the hotel was gone, lost in the conflagration.

Jack had always thought of it as a beacon to weary travelers. But when it had been rebuilt, it had been rebuilt without the globe. And it was this omission more than any change in the design that had Jack unconsciously comparing the new with the old.

He stared at the white building, finding it still held the same fascination. Pictures flashed unbidden in his head.

He and Bev had spent their honeymoon here — room 716. He remembered every detail vividly. His father had been so enamored of his new daughter-in-law he’d given them a week at the hotel, which was then the height of luxury. Jack winced when he realized how long ago it had been. He had married his high school sweetheart three days after graduating with honors from Lowell High School at the age of eighteen.

The forty-five-year-old man frowned as he tried to shake Bev’s face out of his head. He hadn’t thought of Beverly for many years; her memory brought back too much pain. And it only served to remind him of the son he hadn’t seen since the boy was small. Thinking of Jeffy hurt Jack more than thinking about his ex-wife.

He shook himself.

“Whoa, boy. Pull the reins in.” He seemed to be remembering more and more these days, despite his efforts to.

The smell of hash browns cooking in the building behind him reminded him he had left home early that morning without stopping for breakfast. He spent most of his days off walking, exploring and re-exploring the city where he was born. Now he was aware of the ache in his empty stomach, and he decided to splurge on breakfast this morning, even though payday was a few days away and there were always bills. He turned toward the restaurant, somehow avoiding the people milling around him waiting for the light to change.

As he walked through the heavy glass doors into the delicious aroma of eggs, bacon, and potatoes, he thought about the memory which had ambushed him earlier.

Why now? What that particular memory? Why couldn’t he forget completely.

He scanned the menu absently. He pretty much knew it by heart but went through the motions. He ordered breakfast.

The pictures flashed in his head as he absently stirred sugar into the cup of coffee the waitress clattered in front of him. They pranced around his consciousness as he stared out the window, Bev’s angry words pounding unrelentingly. He tried to push the words aside and the memories they invoked. He’d spent twenty years burying those memories; twenty years forgetting the pain.

Or had he?

Suddenly he imagined Jeffry sitting in front of him, but not the two-year-old boy he’d left. Sitting across from him was the image of a young man of twenty-three, looking much like Jack himself had looked at that age, before loneliness had carved permanent lines in his face and grey had peppered his dark hair.

Jack remembered the bewildered look on Jeffy’s face that last day. Bev had not spoken to him for two days. The atmosphere in the house had been one of stony, cold silence, and the normally happy, bouncy little boy crept quietly through the days, afraid of what his parents were not saying.

Jack packed his suitcase silently; he’d said all he could to his wife. She was adamant, unmoving, ashamed of his cowardice. Her feelings of shame added to his uneasiness, but he felt he had no other choice.

Jeffy stood quietly next to his father, his big brown eyes, so like Jack’s, watching Jack’s every move. Jack assumed he was too young to understand.

Finally, Jeffy broke the silence. Clutching his yellow “Foo” bear, he said, “Daddy, where goin’?”

Jack looked at his son, his only child and something inside began to melt. It struck him for the first time that he was a part of something larger and his actions were affecting others besides himself. He felt a surge of anger at his wife for putting their child through this silence and uncertainty. He knelt down and lifted the boy onto his lap.

“Daddy has to go far away.”

He wondered how much Jeffy really understood.

“How far ’way?”

Jack’s eyes clouded as he calculated the distance: not the physical miles but the mental distance Bev had already traveled.

“Pretty far, guy. Farther than you can think about.”

Jeffy looked up into his father’s eyes, and Jack felt a pain deep inside as he saw the love and trust the little boy showed him.

“Home soo’?”

Jeffy’s way of asking something Jack couldn’t answer only served to make the pain deeper, sharper. He lay his head on Jeffy’s short blond hair and took a deep breath, smelling the pureness of the little boy, as if storing it in his memory for dry spells.

His throat closed with tears he couldn’t shed before his son and his eyes clouded. He shook his head and set Jeffy down on the floor. Slowly, he stood up and closed his suitcase, trying to ignore the eyes staring at him.

Jeffy followed his father through the house and stood beside him as he stopped at a closed door. Jack knocked and waited for an answer.

“Bev.” He paused. “Bev? I’m leaving.”

After a few minutes of silence, he turned and went to the front door, Jeffy following like a shadow. Jack opened the door. He turned and looked at his son. Large wet eyes stared back at him and the soft mouth seemed poised to frown. Jack knelt down and took Jeffy in his arms.

Tears fell down his face as he kissed the top of the child’s head. He felt the boy tremble.

“Bye, daddy.”

“Bye, baby. Be good for Mommy, hear?”

Jeffy nodded as his tears spilled over. He hiccuped as he tried to be still and his thumb crept into his mouth while he clutched Foo Bear tightly. He watched his daddy pick up the suitcase and walk down the street, never looking back...

Jack gulped a lump out of his throat as the image of his grown son looked sadly over the table at him. Over the years, Jack had tried to forget the sight, but he could never lose the memory of those big eyes watching him leave. And now a grown Jeffry looked over at him, his eyes just as big, just as accusing, waiting for an explanation Jack didn’t have.

Jack fought the memories. But they pushed hard, pounding, throbbing. He pushed as hard as he could against it but in the end, the angry words and Jeffy’s memory were stronger than his resistance. As the waitress pushed a laden plate in front of him, he picked up a fork and absently reached for the salt as his mind rushed back to those days decades ago …