“You know that thing you did in Afghanistan? That thing you won the medal for from the president?” I asked him.
Mike’s hand went on hovering at his mustache. He did that a lot, usually to hide his smile. Mike always had this smile on his lips and this look in his eyes like he was secretly laughing at something. It was as if he thought just about everything was a joke, as if the whole world was just one big collection of chuckleheads making a mess of things and it was all pretty funny. But now, his eyes had gone serious. The smile that usually hid behind his mustache was gone.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I seem to remember something about that.”
I wasn’t sure I should go on. I knew he didn’t like talking about it. But now that I’d started, I said, “Would you do it again? Knowing you could get killed. Knowing you might never get home to see your wife and daughter. Now that you’ve had time to think about it, I mean, away from the battle, if you could go back and make the choice sort of more, I don’t know, calmly… would you still do it?”
For a long moment, Sensei Mike didn’t answer me. The dojo was quiet except for the sound of Pete banging around in the changing room in back.
When he did speak, Mike still didn’t answer me. He just said, “Life’s funny, chucklehead. You only get one and you don’t want to throw it away. But you can’t really live it at all unless you’re willing to give it up for the things you love. If you’re not at least willing to die for something- something that really matters-in the end you die for nothing.”
Then, all at once, I was standing in the dark. I looked around me, dazed. Where was I? Oh yes, now I saw. I was at the reservoir again. Back at the place where I always met Waterman. There was my mom’s SUV parked by the curb…
Tonight was the night. I was going to give Waterman my answer. I was going to make my choice.
I had that weird feeling of confusion again. How had I gotten here? Hadn’t I just been in the dojo a second ago? But no, now it came back to me. After talking to Sensei Mike, I’d driven out to the end of Oak Street. I’d parked in the same place I’d parked that night Alex and I had our argument, that night he’d gotten out of my car and walked into the park where he was killed. I’d sat there behind the wheel of my mom’s SUV and stared through the windshield into the twilight descending on the park. I prayed silently. I asked God to help me figure out what I should do.
As always, the prayer helped. As I stood out by the reservoir now, I did have a clearer idea of what I was supposed to do. The only problem was: I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t even want to think about doing it. I just wanted to tell Waterman no-no, thanks. I want to live my life. I want to go to college. I want to join the Air Force. And hey-by the way, I just fell in love. I mean, do you mind? Couldn’t you just leave me alone? There has to be someone else you could go to…
But my thoughts were cut off as Waterman’s limousine approached out of the darkness on the street ahead.
It came on slowly. Its lights were off so that it was just a large black shape against the blackness of the trees. It pulled to the curb and stopped. Its headlights came on once, then again. A signal.
I started walking toward it.
I told myself it was going to be all right. I told myself that all I had to do was say the word and I could go back to my life. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t a hero. Maybe I wasn’t Superman. Whatever. The truth was, I couldn’t bear the sadness of leaving my parents, my friends, my girl- maybe forever. I couldn’t stand the thought of their tears as they’d watch me taken away to prison for a murder I hadn’t done. I couldn’t stand the thought of the loneliness that would follow.
As I came near the limousine, the car’s back door swung open. The light inside went on, and I caught a glimpse of Waterman sitting in the backseat, waiting. I had an intense feeling of dislike for the man. I wished he’d never come here. Why did he have to come anyway? Why did he have to come to me?
I got in the backseat. I pulled the door shut. The light went out and Waterman became a shadow in the darkness. I could only make out the shape of him turned toward me. I could only see the dark glitter of his eyes, watching, waiting.
“Well?” I heard him say quietly.
“Okay,” I said, my voice catching in my throat. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rude Awakening Okay, I’ll do it.
For a long second after I spoke those words, I didn’t know where I was. The limousine, the street, the dojo, the high school-they had all seemed so real that my mind couldn’t take in the fact that they had vanished like a dream. But they had. They were suddenly gone completely.
My sense of my own presence seeped into my consciousness slowly. It was not a good feeling. My head was throbbing. My stomach was turning. My body was bruised and aching from its fall off the rock to the forest floor. Leaves and sticks and pebbles were pressing painfully into the side of my face.
With a sense of growing misery, I began to remember where I was. My home was gone. My family was gone. My life-Beth-everything… I was here, in the forest, alone. Armed guards were searching for me everywhere. And all because I had told Waterman: Okay.
I couldn’t open my eyes-not right away. Maybe I didn’t want to. Maybe I wanted to pretend for another moment that I was still back in Spring Hill. But strangely, as the reality of the situation forced itself into my mind, I realized that things were different now than they were before I lost consciousness. I mean, I guess things were the same-the situation was the same-but I was different- my feelings about the situation had changed-and somehow that changed everything else.
Before this last memory attack, I had been pretty much on the brink of despair. I’d felt sorry for myself. I’d been angry-angry at God, even-so angry I could hardly even pray except to call up to heaven bitterly: What do I do now?
But remembering that day-that awful day of decision before I’d made my choice, before I’d told Waterman okay-made me feel different.
Because now I knew: I had chosen to do this thing. I had chosen the path that had led me here and I had chosen it, knowing that it might lead here. I had loved Beth and I had left her behind. I’d loved my parents and I’d left them behind. I’d loved my friends and my home and my life, even though I hadn’t really realized how much I loved them-and I’d left them all behind.
And here was the thing, the weirdest thing: I’d left them behind because I loved them. Beth and my parents and my friends and my life-my free, American life. I loved them, and if I had a chance to protect them from the people who wanted to destroy them, then I had to take that chance even if it meant I would never see them again. I hadn’t asked for that chance. It wasn’t fair that it had fallen to me. It wasn’t fair that it had all gone wrong and left me in this place, in this hardship and danger. It wasn’t even fair that these people-the Homelanders- had organized to attack us, to hurt us, to kill us…
But life doesn’t do fair. I don’t know why it’s that way, but it sure is. I mean, it wasn’t fair that I got to grow up in a nice, safe community, while some other kid in some other place was maybe getting shot at or couldn’t get enough to eat. It wasn’t fair that I had a happy home with parents who loved each other while Alex’s mom and dad couldn’t stay together. A lot of things aren’t fair and I don’t think they ever will be, not in this life, I mean.
I understood all that when I got in the limousine with Waterman. I made my choice because I understood it. I knew it wasn’t about things being fair. It wasn’t about them being easy or safe. It was about who I was, who I wanted to be, what I wanted my life to be about, what I wanted to stand for, live for, even die for if I had to. It was about what I wanted to make out of this soul God gave me.
So I wasn’t angry anymore. I wasn’t bitter anymore. I wasn’t in despair. What am I supposed to do now? wasn’t much of a prayer, I guess. But God had answered it anyway, because that’s what he’s like. I knew now what I was supposed to do. I knew exactly.