“Of course, sir. I assume this has something to do with Aaron?”
“You're correct. Sergeant, regardless of what is happening overseas, from what I understand, this would hammer most officers’ careers. Some super-strict Ring Knockers would even call it an honor violation—not my opinion, by the way. Either way, it's a pretty big violation of regs. If you'd come out earlier, your problems would have been compounded. All in all, it probably would have been best if you could have waited another couple of months, but considering today's situation, I think I can understand it.”
I swallow, nodding. “You're right, sir. I apologize for being careless about that.”
The S-1 shakes his head and reaches for his phone. “Never mind. Actually, I called you in here for another reason. I have a friend who’s been getting notifications of casualty lists faster than the public. I'm going to give him a call, see if we can find out about Aaron. He'll understand if I tell him he's got some friends down here at Bragg worried.”
While the phone rings, I feel the room start to spin again until the S-1 uncovers the handset and waves. “Breathe, Sergeant Morgan. It helps,” he says before he talks to his friend on the line. “I was wondering, if I gave you a name, can you give me an update?”
I take a deep breath, and the room stops spinning, but I'm still so nervous that I'm afraid I'm going to throw up my lunch. “Come on, Mark. I know that it's breaking the rules, but I'm asking about one name. You don't need to tell me anything more than that. Really? Okay, it's Aaron Simpson. Alpha Company. Thanks, Mark. Yeah, I can hold.”
He takes his handset away from his ear and gives me a thumbs-up. “He's checking.”
“Are you going to get in trouble for this, sir?”
The S-1 shakes his head, but before he can answer, he hears something. “Yeah, I'm here, Mark. Yeah, Simpson . . . I guess he's the Alpha XO. He's the only Aaron Simpson in the battalion, right? Okay. Thanks. Bye.”
He hangs up the phone and looks over at me. “The reports are unclear now, but both the CO and XO for Alpha Company were choppered out after the firefight. One of them had some pretty severe injuries, but the Pentagon's still trying to get confirmation on everything. Morgan . . . I'm sorry. I was hoping to give you some good news.”
I shake my head, getting to my feet. “Sir . . . you did your best. With your permission, I think I'd like to take the rest of the day off though. I think I'd like to pick my son up from daycare early, if possible.”
“Permission granted. Just . . . just have hope, Morgan. He's not KIA, we know that much. Remember that.”
I nod and leave the office, gathering my cap and walking out without talking to anyone. I'm in half a daze as I reach my car, and it's only inside that I'm able to start crying. Aaron's class ring hangs heavily between my breasts, and I clutch it to my chest, praying to whatever is listening that he comes back to me. Just . . . I need him to come back.
It's Sunday, and for the first time in years, I'm not up. I just don't care. I don't care about eating. I don't care about bathing. And if it wasn't for Lance needing food, I'd probably not be waking up at all except to piss every once in a while. Now, Sunday afternoon, and I'm still deep in the dark depths of depression.
“Mommy?” Lance asks, coming over to the couch, where I'm wrapped in Aaron's green girl comforter. He's tried to be good, I know he has, even though he doesn't understand what's going on. He just knows that his Daddy had some trouble, and that I'm worried about him. But after the forced play of Friday, I haven't been able to keep it up, and a day and a half of sitting around the house is wearing on him. There's only so much Disney channel even a boy his age can watch. “Mommy, I want to go for a bike ride.”
“Not right now, Lance,” I mumble, turning over. “Maybe later.”
“You said that before lunch!” Lance whines, and I turn on him, angry.
“We'll go bike riding when I say we can go bike riding!” I snap, yelling even though I don't mean to. “Now leave me alone!”
Lance backs up like I just slapped him and puts his head down, his tiny little voice breaking my heart. “I'm sorry, Mommy.”
He leaves the room, and a few minutes later, I hear him crying, trying not to be loud, but still, the heart-wrenching sobs rip away the depression I'm feeling, replacing it with disgust at what I just did. My son, and I treated him like that? Worst mother ever.