The Answers Are Not in the Consolations

...

all of my strength. Just as I am about to let go so that it pounces on the ground, I feel it lifting with a strong hand pulling my arms through the straps. I turn to face Noah, giving him a half smile, then turning and walking out, slowly, to the flight line. We all took place in line at the rear of the plane as the elevator lowers down. I sit between two guys that I’m not familiar with, as they are from a different company,and I rest my head back where my thoughts are empty. I don’t think I can face my family, not in the condition that I’m in.

Once everyone is settled in, the lift gate comes back to place and the main lights darken so that they is only a glow that settles upon the other’s tired faces. My eyes shut for the long flight back to the states as I feel the presence of a pair of eyes on me. I am too worn out to look back so instead I leave them lingering. The engine of the plane starts and the hundred of us are glad, for the most part, to be leaving this hell hole. As we take off, I begin to somewhat panick inside. This dust, these people, this war is all I’ve known for the past two years.

When we land, it is about two in the morning. Everyone makes their way off the plane with a new sort of energy in each step they take. Only a few individuals are greeted by their family while I hurry to make the quickest escape. I succeed as I make it off base and walk to the hotel that we are all staying at, here in Georgia. The building is all brick with the fire escape stairwell going along the side of the building. The main lobby has a nice lounge, a small coffee shop and the check-in.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I’ve stayed in my room for four days straight, only getting up to go to the bathroom. There has been a few people who have come and knocked on the door but I’m guessing they’re from my company and I can’t be facing them. It’s about 8:30 at night now and I’m getting ready to go to the local bar. I saw it on my walk to the hotel when we first landed. I make myself look pretty in a simplistic dress, small one inch heels, and I have my hair and makeup done. Once I grab my hand wallet I head out of the hotel and take the short walk to the bar on Main St.

When I enter there is a dining area, a pool table and a small bar. It is the old style, where it is as if stories are inscribed in the wood of the interior design. I take a seat on the red leathered stool at the bar and the guy beside my has already whistled for the bartender as he glances over at me.

“I’ve got this for you. What do you want?”

“Oh no I’ve got it. Can I get your best seller?” I ask the bartender as he approaches.

“Sure thing.”

“So do you live around here?” The guy beside me asks.

“No, I’m just in for a short visit for work.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of work do you do? I’m a local firefighter, I just graduated this past spring.”

“Wow, that’s great, congratulations.”

“Yeah there’s no harder job out there,” he says. I nearly spit out my drink, which I just received, in laughter, but he is looking at me with a stern face.

“I’m almost positive this war that is going on is a much tougher job than yours,” I reply.

“Oh come on those guys don’t do shit. Anyways, what do you do, I bet we’re meant to be.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh come on, how about you come back to my place and we can talk about it,” He tries to persuade.

“I’m an active service member who just came back from the war in Iraq. Now if you would excuse me, I’ve got to use the restroom. Oh and can you get my tab while you’re at it Mr. Fireman?” I walk towards the restroom, looking back with a smile on my face and strutting so that my dress trails in an elegant flow. He looks at me, stunned.

I take a look in the mirror and am actually impressed by what I see, because it is far from what I feel. After a few minutes have passed I feel it is safe to return to the bar and I am right when that supposive “fireman” is nowhere in sight. I take my seat again at the bar, taking my half full bottle in hand. I feel a presence beside me again a few minutes later and I decide to ignore it as it is probably the guy from a short while ago.

“Hey, you okay?” Asks Noah.

“Oh hey! Yeah everything is great,” I try to say with great enthusiasm.

“Aspen don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. It’s the truth,” I say as I plaster on a sly smile.

He is silent for a few moments when his hand out reaches to in front of me and he places an object down. It is not until he retrieves his hand back to its original position that I see what it is. In front of me lies the necklace with the airplane charm. I begin to fight back the tears, ignoring Noah. I don’t want him to see me vulnerable, but the hiding of my face must be an obvious sign. The tears begin to stream down my face.

“You’ve been in your room for the past four days. I know you’re hurting Aspen.”

I feel his hand lightly present on my shoulder and it is then that I quickly turn towards