“Daddy's going to have to go away for a while,” I tell Lance, squatting down and taking his little hands in mine. “About six months or so.”
Lance looks confused still, and I realize that even though he's been an 'Army brat' his whole short life, Lindsey's never been deployed. “But why?”
“The Army wants me to go, and I have three years left on my commitment,” I tell him, picking him up and sitting down with him in the dining room chair that's available. “Lance, have you ever made a promise to do something?”
“Yes,” Lance says. “Miss Wendy makes me promise to pick up my toys every day before I get to take them out.”
“And do you?” I ask. Lance nods, and I echo it. “Well, buddy, about two years ago, I made a promise to the Army. I promised them that since they paid for me to go to West Point, and they paid for all the classes I took and the food I ate and all that stuff, that I was going to serve five years in the Army afterward. They gave me my rank, and they even gave me a job that way, but I still have three years to go on that promise.”
“But you just started to be Daddy!” Lance says, upset.
“I know,” I say, hugging him tightly as he starts to cry. “But you want to know something? Now that I'm your Daddy, that's never, ever going to stop. We can live in the same house, different houses like we do now, or even if I'm on the other side of the world. I'm always going to be your Daddy. And that's never going to change.”
Lance cries harder, and I rock him in my arms until he tapers down to sniffles, calming. I help Lindsey set him up with a video on my TV, and the two of us step into my back yard, wanting the privacy. “I understand how he feels,” Lindsey whispers, coming closer so I can hug her. “It's not fair, Aaron.”
“I know.”
“Can't you just . . . I don't know, resign your commission?” Lindsey asks, and I shake my head. “Why not?”
“Because if I don't complete my five years, the Army can come after me for the pro-rated amount of what they value a West Point education to cost. If I'd flunked out of the PT test, or there were some other possible reason they'd have me let go, that'd be one thing, and they probably wouldn't come after me for it. But, I'd be refusing orders to report to a combat unit, currently deployed, for no reason at all in their eyes. I'd have no defense. They'd come after me for every cent.”
“How much?” Lindsey asks, and I sigh. “That much?”
“You got somewhere in the neighborhood of sixty grand sitting around?” I ask with a dark chuckle. “Never mind that they'd probably bring me up on charges if I do. Face it, Lindsey. Bradley had a trump card, and he played it very damn well.”
“So what do we do now?” Lindsey asks, and I reach out, hugging her.
“We spend every minute together that we can between now and Wednesday,” I tell her, kissing her. “They're flying me straight out of Pope to Germany before bouncing me to Afghanistan, so I can get on that plane exhausted and wiped out. Who gives a damn? I'm already on 'transfer leave' from the 82nd, so while I'll be busy, I don't have to worry about anything other than cleaning out my stuff and packing my bags. Bragg's even letting me keep my field equipment so that I don't have to check out anything in Afghanistan, so that's squared away too.”
Lindsey nods, sniffling. “So this weekend?”
“This weekend is a family weekend,” I tell her, kissing her again. “I was thinking spending time with my son and my woman, eating pizza and going to Chinese buffets, and just packing as much fun into the next two days as I can. Then dealing with the rest. I did have one request.”
“What's that?” Lindsey asks, and I smile.
“How'd you like to housesit for me? Keep your quarters on base if you want. The lease on this place is locked in for another six months before it goes month to month. Or live here, use all my stuff, and then, when I come back, help me get it up to Drum?”
Lindsey nods, smiling. “I'm giving your green girl to Lance. I'm the only girl you need from now on.”
“Damn. I'm going to miss that green girl,” I say with a sarcastic chuckle, pulling her closer. “Someone's going to have to keep me warm at night now.”
“I think I know someone who might be up to the task. But you promised our son pizza first, right?”
“Or Chinese buffet. Let's let him choose.”
“It ain't right, El Tee.”
I nod, turning in the last of the company items that I personally have to Pillman, who's signing for them in the interim, a ridiculous gesture since he checks out next week. It isn't much, just some books and a few company records that I kept with me, and I'm early, in the gap in between the time the company finished PT and morning formation, about eight fifteen in the morning.
“Don't matter if it's right or wrong, Sarge. It is what it is.”