PALETA
VI
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ABOVE THE FALLEN
He was far more broken than how he looks, and the scars reminded him of the battles everyone thought he has won.
A man in camouflage and boots and a man with scars were talking on the front porch steps on a warm sunny Tuesday morning. The grasses were dead, but the sidewalks were clean. They would watch as the neighbours’ children play and wonder about the youth he never had. He looked at his son in camouflage sitting right next to him with a light above his head from the gaps between the rustling leaves behind. -Say, son. What has the war done any good to you? He then smiled and let out a breath of air, looked down and answered. -Well, ya know dad. First, it pays well. He looked at the man with scars. -Look at the house; we used to live in such a tiny apartment when I was a kid. And. And. The tap won’t stop dripping at night, he chuckled a little. The old man smiled. -I couldn’t sleep at night hearing those little drops. Darn it. They both laughed, and for once it felt nice reminiscing about the past until there was another gap of silence between them. -Say, son. Have you ever been alone there and afraid? He looked at his dad and his scars, and his eyes of concern. -Don’t worry dad. Don’t you know? This brings great honour to our family! He smiled trying to persuade the father who wasn’t convinced. Silence. The wind blew and the leaves rustled in sadness. -Don’t worry dad. I’m doing this for us and our country, for the neighbours’ children and my future children. It’s no big deal. Hell, I’m basically a national hero. He jokingly said to lighten the atmosphere. -But, son. Please. You’re still young. Go party like the people at your age. Do that weird thing they do in their computers and shout at the screen. Go find a woman and put a ring on her finger. Enjoy your youth. Every time you leave, I worry so much that you might not come back. The son looked at his boots, and couldn’t look up. His eyebrows tensed and his eyes were blurry. -It’s okay dad. He stood up. -I got to go now. 76
