The sun was high and bright as fuck today as it was yesterday and so it will be tomorrow. Of course the sun won’t be at its highest point all day everyday, but I’m just saying it’s currently at it’s peak, and that it has been at it’s peak yesterday and that it will be so for tomorrow... Ah, the heat is getting to me... again, eh.
And so the air is dry, arid, dusty and full of poo particles.
The air is so dry the people within these harsh, desolate lands usually pass out from all those nose bleeds the dry air due to the air drying out noses, and the membranes within our noses get crusty as fuck and irritate the shit out of the nasal membrane. And with us being dumb 'umies we sometimes pick our noses to get rid of the irritations, but doing that would cause the nose to bleed. Hell I’m currently bleeding out of my nose from the super dry air, but I got used to it and so would you after spending several weeks in this wasteland. I rather not lose any blood, but I don;t have anything on me to stop the blood so I just snort it and swallow.
I would make points on how arid and humid this place is, but my brain is too exhausted to attempt to do so… but it is very dusty here. Like, it’s sooooo dusty that your mouth, nose, ears and around the eyes there would be a thin layer of dust sitting about, and irritating the shit out of you. Any place where moisture would be and you'll most likely find dust all over it. The dust gets into everything, and I mean EVERYTHING! It’s a real pain in the ass to eat your food, or drink because there’s just gonna some amount of dust just floating about all over it. It's also super annoying when you have dust all over your underwear... uggh.
“Uggh, where did I put it, eh?!” I exclaimed in frustration as I search within my sandy, dusty and cold trench. What could've made me so god damn frustrated? Well, it would usually be the sun cooking me, but instead I lost something pretty important. What have I lost, eh? Well, it’s a little pin that does something to make the bolt for my rifle does its thing, and without it the weapon is practically useless, eh… So it's pretty fucking important, and I really need to find it before I officially lost it, eh. “It couldn't have been buried already, eh! I just took my eyes off of it for a few minutes, eh!” Ah, fuck you wind for splashing loose sand and possibly burying my lost pin!
I continued to search my cold, dry dusty trench for the next few minutes in panic and frustration. If I were to lose that pin then I would be in deep shit with my Officer… like, seriously, do you know what he would do to me when he finds out I lost something as integral and important as that firing pin or whatever they call it? I don’t know, but what I do know is that I need to find that pin right the fuck now!
It also doesn't hurt to say that if I officially lose something from my kit then my pay may be deducted to replace said lost kit, eh...
“I’m gonna be in so much trouble, eh!” I yell to myself as I turned over my sleeping rock, and was greatly saddened to discover that the pin was not under my sleeping rock.
“Hey Sars, what’s going on, eh?” I scream and jump a bit from surprised after hearing someone other than Old Ben the Talking Tree speak to me. After a few moments of waiting and failing to hear Old Ben the Talking Tree yell at me for not stripping for him I clumsily, and tiredly look over my shoulder to see my fireteam partner standing above me next to our trench. I cough into my glove hand to recompose myself, and to clear my parched throat.
“hehe, oh you know, stuff, eh.” After speaking I give him my best winning smile I can muster... and quickly glance over to Old Ben and back to my partner.
“You lose something again, eh?” My partner asks after a few moments as he too glances over to Old Ben...
Slumping against the dusty trench I mumble. “Yes…” I could feel the bastard’s eyebrow raising, but it was straightened out as I cough out the usual interjection stereo-typically associated with our countrymen. “eh.”
Sighing the man jumps into the trench right next to me, and causing a small dusty cloud to lift up all around us. I groan to myself as I do not want to see what the cloud is covering in dust. “Did you lose your firing pin, eh?” He asks as he waves away the dust from his face.
“Si mi amigo, eh.” I speak shittily in illegal.
“Huh, so I found this, eh.” I don’t know how he managed it, but I was very surprised he found the little fucker that I’ve been searching high and low for the past half an hour.
Snatching the pin from his hands I quickly reply. “Holy shit, you’re a life saver, eh!” I could practically feel a smile coming on judging from the pain from my dry, cracked lips.
“Ah, someone has to look after your sorry, but maravilloso culo, eh.” Smirking the man turns away from me to look over the desolate wasteland we’re supposed to be guarding alongside with our platoon, the Brits and ANA. Picking up his C7 Service Rifle he quickly scopes the land through his Optical Sight, and after a few moments to himself he tiredly places it back down once he spots nothing dangerous over yonder. “No telling what our Officer would do to you if he were to find out you officially lost something… again, eh.” How much did those firing pins cost anyways, eh?
After laughing in embarrassment I quickly change topic to avoid having to hear him once again go over the shit I fucked up, and how many times he had to cover my ass. “So Techy where’d you go, eh?”
Seemingly not noticing anything odd coming off of me the man answered the question. “Oh, just went on a delivery run on Wally’s truck with Sparkles, Happy, Porker and Doc, eh.” Ah, Wally you bastard… and it's nice to hear the others are up and able, and no longer sick from the floating poo particles again.
“You went without me, eh?!” I lightly smack the guy’s shoulder from irritation.
“Well, someone had to hold the fort while I was out, eh.” He reasons, but I wasn’t having any of it.
“But I was so maldito aburrido all day, eh!” Truly my day has been long, hard, hot and tiring along with it usually being boring as fuck. It’s like I’m being tortured, but that instead of being tortured by people I’m being messed around by my boredom! Sure the other usual schmuck such as actually doing some work around here is tiring and somewhat difficult most of the time, but at least I’m doing something.
It's not even past 1200 yet, eh...
With there being a sun beating down on you with it’s ferocity of light, heat and deadly radiation throughout the day you would be pretty miserable too, but it gets worse since the trench basically slow cooks you. It's even worse especially when you're wearing your usual army garb along with your tactical gear. That’s some real torture. The only thing that kept me alive out here is the cool dirt under my boots, and my half full canteen of water, but even then I think it would be easier just to off myself with my rifle.
Bah, I should probably stop being an asshat to him, eh...
“Su espanol es una mierda, eh.'.” My partner once again speaks in illegal, and is an asshat.
The dust cloud is settling...
“Yours is no better than mine you burro, eh.” I retort as I slowly, and painfully look over my now dusty rifle... I sigh deeply, and audibly from seeing how all of my work on cleaning my rifle is now gone, and it’s all thanks to Techy, but I’ll try not to be a bitch aboot it, eh. The sun is already killing us and we don’t need to turn on each other right now. “So, what did you get from Wally this time, eh?”
Wally… You know that guy is such a fucking thieving, cheating, sneaky bastard. Now, Wally is a nice guy when it comes to simple chit chat, but when it comes to money that guy is such a fucking prick. Wally is the local merchant who supplies everyone anything they want for a price, and he sets his prices really high since he has the monopoly for being the only merchant crazy enough to be in an active battle zone. There were plenty of Afghans here, but he’s the only civie within miles and every other local is with the Afghanistan National Army. The ANA don’t really bother with Wally seeing how they magically get all sorts of bullshit without him, and seeing how they’re not keen in sharing anything with us we just have to settle with Wally, or the shitty acquisition service with the Americans.
No one really questions how Wally gets his merchandise, but we don't care. We could order ourselves a hooker along with some cocaine and he would find it. Porker once ordered himself a PS3 and a few games, and within a week Wally comes by and gives the bastard a brand new PS3 and games for a high price, but the fact Wally is able to get this kind of shit is a feat in itself seeing how we're in a very unstable country.
As I quickly and somewhat thoroughly clean my rifle my fireteam partner speaks once more. “I didn’t get anything this time, but I hear the Brit’s got themselves some washing machines today, and a mountain of beer, eh.”
I was finishing up putting back together a now clean bolt when I felt some frustration return to me after hearing what he had to say. “How come they get all the good shit while we scrape the bottom of the barrel, eh…” Seriously, I and many others within our platoon really wanted to get ourselves something to clean our uniforms. It’s been nearly a whole two weeks since we last cleaned our clothes, and since then the stink has built up to the point where bugs no longer wish to be around us. I kinda miss those flies I semi-domesticated... “Infieno even those Yankees get better shit than us and no one likes them, eh!”
“You mean those PMC’s and not the US Troops right, eh?” As always my partner is quick to ask questions to clarify shit, but he should understand what I’m saying by now. We’ve been working together for three and half years now! How does anyone not understand what I’m talking aboot, eh? Hell, Happy knows what I mean and English is not his first language!
“Yeah, those PMC burros, eh!” Ah, those PMC bastards… you know they were cool with me until they started shooting at us… They said it was an accident, and thought we were Insurgents wearing stolen Canadian Uniforms, but they’ve been told multiple times and given maps on where we were, but they somehow forgot all about that and shot at us. I almost got my face blown off, but luckily I was smart enough to duck when the lead starts flying especially when I’m half naked. It’s not the first time either that those guys fired upon fellow Canadian soldiers and out British pals. No idea if they shot at any other personnel from other militaries, but if I were to guess I probably would think they have done so before.
“It’s because they pay bigger bucks than we do, eh.” Ah, the man speaks the truth. Those guys make a lot of money. It really reminds me of that one quote I seen on the YouTube comments section a long time ago, and I think it goes along the length of ‘You don’t find good soldiers paid well in the army’ or something close to that. Whatever, I don’t care. I’m tired, hot, hungry, thirsty and is now busy cleaning my rifle and putting it back together which means I’m no longer bored and that is a good thing. My mood is improving.
“I’m super disappointed today, eh…” I say after a long period of silence.
“Me too Sars, me too, eh…” Within the next few minutes I manage to clean and put together my rifle, and I swore an oath that day to never take advice from Smiles. Bastard said that soldiers could use the butt of their rifles as makeshift shovels, and yeah that would be true if it were World War One right now.
I wonder if I can get us a washing machine next time Wally comes around, eh?
Thump. Thump.
Pat's boots being tossed aside at the front door alerted Matt to her presence. It was well past eleven; when she was due to arrive home from the Armoury. He was still up, sitting at the dining table trying to imagine this conversation playing out. He had convinced himself this conversation had to happen now. He couldn't wait any longer. He has to do this no matter what the outcome.
"Oh, you're awake, eh?" She observed as she came around the corner. Giving him a smile she crossed behind him to the kitchen counters. "Did you save me something to eat, eh? “ Nodding, he points towards the microwave, and she pulls out the plate of food without reheating it. She doesn’t like it when her food is nuked in the microwave, says that it dries out the food and causes it to go bland. “I completely forgot that tonight was the Captain’s retirement party, so, sorry for forgetting the time and being late, eh. They had food, but of course since it was Blackadder it was all greasy junk, eh." she finished with a laugh.
She turned around and leaned against the counter-top, digging into the cold mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables with gusto. Not much of a supper, but it’s the only food I can prepare outside of the microwave and toaster without burning it. Still, the mashed potatoes are a little over boiled…
"It’s nice of your mom for cooking for us, eh. I don't know how we will get on without her just up the road, eh." She said with a mouthful. He nodded half-heartedly; of course she assumes it was my mother who made us dinner. She still doesn’t believe I can make something other than heating up Hungry-Man frozen dinners.
Her eyebrows knitted together, visibly questioning the silence. He wasn't quite ready to dive in, so he stalled by asking her how work went.
She pulled a face, "Awful, eh. Grudge is crawling all over us trying to find out who is responsible for a missing GPMG, eh...but interrogating the guys is going nowhere, eh. We are now assuming that someone forgot to pack it up from our field ex last weekend, eh.” She said tapping her foot against the somewhat dusty kitchen floor; I need to sweep before going to bed. "I’m still trying to get my head around the fact no one noticed the missing machine gun until we took in stock today, eh." He gave her a sympathetic look. Pat took her new position seriously, and whenever something went missing she literally makes it her life goal to find whatever is missing or she’ll be in deep shit. She looks to be tired judging from the dark half moons beneath her eyes. With a sigh, she finished her last bite tossing the plastic plate, and fork haphazardly into the sink.
"I’m tired, so, I’m getting into bed now, eh." She told him in a yawn. Matt gave her an annoyed look.
"I guess I'll do the washing up, then?" He replied, casting a glance at offending dishes in the sink. It was always him doing the cleaning around the apartment.
"Thanks, you scrub lord, eh~" she laughed him off, and quickly gave him kiss on his head as she left the room.
Defeated, he rose to clean today’s dishes. This wasn't going as planned. It was so late and she'd clearly had a long day looking for something out of her reach. Maybe this could wait until tomorrow? He pause, and looked down the hallway at their bedroom. Soon enough she crossed the doorway in nothing, but her undergarments. She looked good. A fanciful thought crossed his mind; if they reached an agreement tonight maybe they could rustle the bed sheets?
As he finished drying the last plate he felt her arms close around his chest. With her being taller than him her cheek rested against the back of his head. He glanced over his shoulder. She was probably not thinking along the same lines as Matt about bedtime activities with her wearing an old night shirt.
"So, I’m not good at guessing games, eh. Everyone knows that eh. Are you gonna tell me what’s bothering you or what, eh? I don't got all night as I'm tired as fuck, eh."
He sighed and turned to face her, resting his damp arms around her waist. He didn't know where to begin. He settled on what’s the most important to him.
"I love you."
"Oh damn, it’s gonna be that bad, eh?" Pat teased as she rubbed his shaved head for a moment.
"It's nothing bad, well, I hope not." He retorted and tried to focus back on her, but found himself looking at Pat with a confused and tired expression on her face. "It's just... I think we need to talk about having a kid again." As he finished his sentence he felt her arms drop from his sides. He pulled his own from her to allow Pat to take a step back, which she did. She let out an aggravated groan as her head dropped downwards.
"It's late, and I’m tired, eh. I’m out, eh.”
"Whenever I bring this subject up you are always tired or busy. When would be a good time?!"
Pat rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. She was withdrawing herself from the situation physically and emotionally. Matt stood his ground, and advanced. "I'm serious about this Pat. I think we have waited long enough.” Her face at the moment is hard to read. No doubt grief and anger is plaguing her mind. ”You say that we don't have the time, but we can make time." She may have put on a stony expression, but he notices that her fists are clenched as if she’s thinking over if fighting is an option that can get her out of this. He may have to prepare himself for an onslaught of punches from her.
Soon her face set in a frown and her eyes misted over with an old memory, "What makes you think it could even work,” this time, eh? She asked giving the end of her question particular significance
"I know what happened then was...difficult-"
"Eh?" Pat scoffed. "A math exam is difficult, eh." She really does hate math… anything above division and she’ll shut down.
“It was hard for me too. I’m just saying that you're probably giving that too much power. I've been ready to try again for a couple years now." Immediately he regrets the words as they leave his mouth. Pat's eyes went dark and she looked as if she would lunge at him for a moment.
"Of course you've been ready, eh. The little ember of life inside of you didn’t get snuffed out before the doctors can do anything, eh.” She’s shaking with rage now that was quite obvious. "You have no idea what that felt like, eh." She spat at him bitterly
At her response Matt could feel adrenaline course through him. It grated him when she talked of their shared tragedy as if it were solely her own.
He wanted to lash out at her.
He’d been devastated by the loss of the baby, and the way Pat began to shut down in the months that followed. His parents are old and sick, sad as it was, served as a welcome distraction for him as he frequently visited them which helped him focus on something else for a while. But he made a promise to his parents that he will give them grandchildren to hold and spoil.
But, the both of them always ended up right back here; suffering and holding themselves apart. It was a pattern he had long ago noticed. He feared they were doomed to repeat indefinitely. Neither of them had ever fully recovered from that event, but he was always quick to heal and move on unlike Pat.
When it was clear it was both their deepest desire to do so it seems as though they wouldn’t be able to bridge the chasm that formed between the two. He couldn't think of how to fix the situation. The two are stubborn, and are waiting for the other to give in first, but it was clear that neither of them were going to budge.
Matt knew it, then.
When he opened his mouth once more, the words had difficulty escaping him. They were stuck deep within his throat. After a pained moment he managed to croak out a declaration of defeat- they would both be losing this war of theirs.
"I can’t do this anymore." he said quietly. Pat's eyes widened.
The implication of his words hung heavy between them. For what seemed an eternity they stood in silence. The idea of them no longer being 'them' was an unfathomable scenario for him, and he was sure it was the same for her. From the first time they met he couldn’t picture his life without her. Their lives were so connected, and intertwined it reflected on that they knew each other in every possible way. Matt knew Pat so well in fact that he knew the issue of children would always be met with opposition on her end.
What he was finally realizing about himself was that he could no longer accept the stalemate between the two. The price of the mile is becoming to much for him. The longer he march the more time he wastes. He can no longer accept this as part of his life. He must do what he thinks is the best course of action.
Even if it meant doing the unthinkable.
"W-what are you even saying, eh?" Pat asked, her face having reverted back to a frown. He met her eyes briefly and then looked at the dusty floor.
"Matthew...I love you, eh." Pat said, voice hitching. Matt looked up at her face and she wore the expression of a wounded animal; wide-eyed and frightened. This was the closest Patricia would ever come to begging. He was letting her down, and his heart sank to see her standing before him so many years later knowing that.
I love you too, but" I just don't think that's enough anymore." Their love for each other is no longer going anywhere between the two, and he knows it. He knew of it for months.
"What are you...I don't..." she stumbled over her words from confusion. She looked as terrified as he felt. He willed himself to remain firm, to not allow her broken walls tempt him in moving forward to her. They had both suffered the consequences of their indecision for too long. Neither of them is unable to win. They can only lose.
"Pat, If it isn’t a sign that we aren't going in the same direction anymore with the way we even talk about starting a family then I do not know what is. We can't even get through a conversation about what happened. Someone said to me a week or so ago... uh, I don't remember the wording exactly," She rolled her eyes at me once more." But, to move forward even after a tragedy we got to have the willingness-"
"What, eh? Who's the idiot saying this bullshit, eh!?" Cutting him off, Pat snapped.
"Does it matter?" Matt wanted to kick himself for slipping that bit of wisdom in.
"It does, eh."
"Sparkles, she's one of the medics-" Pat's eyes narrowed like a hawk zeroing in on its prey.
"I know perfectly well who she is, eh." Pat cut across him venomously "You think it's ok to go around telling others of my personal business, eh?" she shouted. Annoyed he shook his head, this feud was quickly devolving into what may become a brawl. He wanted to talk this out calmly, but Pat didn't seem ready to cool anytime soon.
"Patty..."
"Don't 'Patty' me, eh. You think I sit around at work telling the guys about your problems, eh?"
“I swear to god-“
“Don’t give me that crap, eh!”
“Ugh, it’s not what you think, we were just talking as friends and she-"
"Oh, friends, eh?" Pat asked, sarcastically saccharine.
"Yes. Friends."
"Give me a break, Matt, eh!”
“What?”
“Don't act like you haven't noticed, eh. Everyone knows that girl has a crush on you, eh.”
"Yeah, I’ll be honest here," Matt began, trying to not let his frustration get the better of him, "she has told me about her interest in me."
As if someone had pulled an invisible lever on her jaw, Pat's mouth snapped shut. Her cheeks flushed red just as the rest of the color drained from her face. She drew to a conclusion. Pat looked at the ground. He braced himself for her oncoming outburst, but is quite surprised to see her turn and disappear into their room
"Pat?" he called after her. He could hear doors slamming open and shut, the rustling of fabric coming from their bedroom. He walked in to see that Pat is violently packing a green issued duffle bag with my name tag on it. He felt overcome with helplessness as the reality of the situation began to sink in.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like, eh?"
"Pat, wait a second." He reached out to grab her arm, but she reclaimed it with a hard pull and glared at him. "Can you explain to me what you’re doing?" he asked, defeated.
"As bleak as it sounds I’m kicking you out, eh.” She muttered as she threw more of my clothing into the duffle bag.
"But where would I go?" He didn’t have anywhere to go. His parents wouldn't be able to house him tonight as his mother is most likely spending time with his father at the hospital, and he doesn’t have any friends that would let him crash on their couch on short notice. Watching her take action to make him leave her hit him square in the chest as he thought he would no longer be part of her world. This isn't what he really wanted, was it? To be left alone once more…
"I don't even know who you are anymore, eh." She didn’t answer him, but instead let her pain over take her mind and body.
"Don't say that…" He replied softly, eyes filling with moisture. Her words pierced him. In this moment, somewhere within himself Matt knew he hasn't changed, but clouded by hopelessness made even him unsure of himself.
"The man I thought I knew wouldn't be-" she dropped her words mid-sentence as she turned and caught the tears in his eyes. "Why are you crying, eh?"
"I don't want to go..." he said. Pat shook her head in disbelief and threw the bag at him which he caught on reflex. Without a word she pushed him outside, and left him standing alone in the dark just outside of their home, the sound of the slamming front door echoing in the neighborhood.
