The Caretaker

Chapter One

A twenty-one gun salute and a folded flag. A small velvet-lined box containing “a token of sacrifice and bravery.” This was all that he had left to remind him of the man he once believed to be invincible. The man that had promised to teach him how to drive and be with him as he drank his first beer. The man who had missed many of the most important moments in his life while always promising to “make it up to him”. The man who was now just moments from being lowered in to the ground where he will forever be separated from the son he carelessly left behind.

Sixteen year-old, Mason Hamilton stole a quick look around the cemetery at the guests that were still arriving and immediately wished he hadn’t.  There was no one that he truly wanted to see here. None of them mattered to him and he knew that most of them were only here out of a feeling of obligation and not out of care or concern for him, his mother or his father. Aside from the individuals from the unit, the rest of the attendees were wives of the men that his father had supervised and fought with. Seeing them all here only seemed to fuel the anxiety that had been building all morning.

These women all sat and huddled together whispering frantically amongst themselves solidifying the assumption Mason had been pondering concerning the true intentions for their attendance. They were here to collect gossip and enhance their own images as the caring and supportive friend. They wanted to gawk and marvel and remind each other how lucky they were to still have their soldiers alive and well. He saw through their fake expressions of sorrow and grief to the hidden selfish agendas they all carried with them. He knew that immediately upon leaving the services they would all be on their phones, anxious to be the ones to share how dreadfully tragic the whole thing was and to share their own warped observations about how he and his mother were coping with it all.

Looking up at his mother, Katlyn, who was surrounded by uniformed representatives from his father’s unit, he was once again reminded of what a strong and amazing woman she truly was. Mason knew that her heart was hurting as bad or possibly even worse than his own, and yet she held herself together with such composure and poise that no one would guess the true depths of her misery. She, like him, knew the true nature of many of the attendees and did not feel like providing them the fuel for their petty chitter chatter. He knew that he would hear her sobs through the wall again tonight when she thought he was sleeping, but today she was the picture of grace under fire. As if she could feel him looking at her, she turned to glance at him and gave him a reassuring half-smile.

It is that half-smile that keeps Mason rooted to his seat instead of running away from all of this the way he wanted to do. The way he did when he had come home from school to find the two officers sitting in his living room. He had known immediately what they had been doing there, but somehow had thought at the time that if they never had the opportunity to speak the words to him that he would be able to deny the horrible truth. So instead of facing the reality of his father’s death, he ran. He ran right out of the house, past the government vehicle in his driveway and kept on running down the street and into the wooded area just beyond the row of houses. He hadn’t been sure how long he had sat in that tree waiting for the officers to leave his house, but his limbs were quite stiff by the time he jumped to the ground.

The walk back to his house had been nothing but excruciating as he thought about what awaited him. The pressure on his chest made it difficult to breath and the closer he got to his front door the more he was terrified of facing the truth. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of his mother trying to deal with this on her own.

When he had walked into his house he found his mother in the kitchen mindlessly scrubbing at a pot in the sink. He didn’t say a word as he walked across the room, pulled the pot from her hand letting it fall back into the soapy water, and hugged his mother as the tears began to fall. They stood together comforting each other until they both were exhausted and could not cry anymore.

The rest of the week that followed was nothing but a blur for Mason, but he had made sure that he was never too far away from his mother. Not because he didn’t feel that she could handle everything, but because he had begun to feel an almost overwhelming anxiety whenever he felt that she was not somewhere easily accessible to him. He knew that it was foolish and completely nonsensical especially since he was nearly sixteen years old but it didn’t change the way he felt.

The sound of a familiar voice calling his name brought him back to the foggy cemetery. He looked around for the source of the voice and was surprised to see his father’s closest friend, David Branson, who had escorted his father’s body from Afghanistan. He was dressed in his formal uniform which looked like it was a bit too tight for him the shoulders, but was still a welcome sight amongst the horde of people that he was trying to ignore.

As David moved through the crowd of people and made his way towards where Mason sat, it could not be missed how out-of-place and miserable the man was. He had told Mason earlier in the week that he could not keep from thinking about the rest of his men still over there and was very anxious to return to be a part of the team that brings down the monsters behind the attack that had taken his dad. He hadn’t been too sure how he had felt about that so he hadn’t said anything at all about it. Now, with the comfort of his familiar and strong presence sitting next to him he was tempted to beg him not to return, but he knew that it would be a pointless gesture. Not only would it not be possible for him to remain home, it would also make Mason appear weak and childish.

As they continued to sit awaiting the beginning of the ceremony, Mason stared around the cemetery taking it all in. They were in one of the oldest parts of the cemetery, which is where so many of his family on his father’s side had been buried throughout the years. He had only ever been here once before with his father when they had first moved to the area.

He remembered how happy his father had been when he had finally landed the orders to report here to Fort Campbell, Kentucky. He had been trying throughout his entire career to be assigned here, that when the opportunity had finally presented itself he jumped at the chance even if it meant that he would need to deploy almost immediately after arriving. He had said that the hardship of yet another deployment was worth it, since it meant he could finally buy a house and prepare for his retirement where he had been born and raised.

Mason had been so angry when he had found out that his father had volunteered to deploy again just so they could relocate to the backwoods of Kentucky. He had gotten into a huge argument with his father about how selfish he had thought it all was just days before he shipped out. He had honestly tried to understand how his dad could choose to be away from his family for yet another year after already missing nearly seven years in just the span of Mason’s short fifteen-years. He had known at the time that he had been being unfair to his father, but his anger had won out over rationalization.

The sound of his mother’s voice as she made her way to the chairs next to him called his attention away from his musings. It must be nearly time for the ceremony to begin as he realized that David was no longer sitting next to him. He was to be helping to carry the flag covered casket and in charge of folding the flag and presenting it to the commander to hand off to his mother. Like everything else throughout the past week, everything about today was perfectly rehearsed and scripted making it all seem like it was something that he was watching on a movie. He wished more than anything that he could change the channel.

“How are you holding up?” his mother asked quietly as she took the now vacated seat next to him.

Mason shrugged. He really didn’t want to lie to his mother and say that he was fine, but he was also hesitant to add to the emotional burden that she was already carrying. Luckily his mother did not seem to need any further response from him. Instead she patted him on the knee and he covered her hand with his own. Having her sitting next to him, as they awaited the beginning of the ceremony, the dreamlike quality of the day faded bringing with it a harsh clarity that made it hard for him to breath. To keep himself from hyperventilating, he began to study the people that had gathered.

He noticed that there was only a very small showing of soldiers present, but he supposed that was to be expected considering the unit was still at their deployed location. The few enlisted men that he recognized were those individuals that had remained behind for some reason or another. He recognized the sergeant whose wife had been undergoing chemotherapy treatments since well before the deployment began. Mason had gone with his mother several times to help watch their three-year old daughter giving the exhausted parents a much needed respite. He saw the private that had gotten charged with driving under the influence just days prior to deploying who was waiting to be chaptered out of the army.  There were several men that he did not recognize who stood awkwardly toward the back of the seated guests. He supposed that they each had their own reasons for staying behind but Mason did not care to know what they were. He knew that no matter what excuse they had, there was not a single excuse that could ease his anger towards any of these men. What if these men had been there to help his dad do his job? Would his dad still be alive right now? Maybe it would have been one of them in the flag covered box while their family members were being looked at with pity and grotesquely exaggerated sympathy by indifferent mourners whose attendance was only a way to fulfill their obligatory acts of societal responsibilities.

With a shaky sigh, Mason forced his thoughts back to the events unfolding before him. The chaplain was speaking quietly to the battalion commander who then turned and asked for everyone to be seated. The quiet murmurings of the gathered crowd faded away leaving an eerie quiet in its stead. Even the normally verbal bird population seemed to sense the somber mood and maintained their silence.

He tried not to look at the men in their dress blues led by his father’s best friend as they carried the coffin from the hearse to the gaping hole that had been dug out in front of him. He tried not to imagine whom it was that lay among the shiny blue silk inside the box that he had not been permitted to see one last time. He tried not to allow the depths of his agony to be so easily detected by the morbid audience that stood watching him & his mother as if they were the participants on a sick reality television show.

Mason stole a quick glance at his mother standing next to him and immediately felt the ache in his heart intensify to nearly unbearable levels. She stood so proud and appeared to be so strong, but it was so easy for him to see how truly broken she was. The glistening of the tears in her eyes tore at his heart feeling as if someone was trying to rip it from his chest. He held his mother’s hand tight in his own and tried to remind himself to keep breathing.

The entirety of the burial would forever remain as nothing more than a cloudy and distant memory for Mason. It was all over before he knew it and more than once he felt like he was watching everything happen from a place far outside of his own body. The gathered mourners shuffled past him and his mother offering their hollow whispers of condolences before gratefully returning to their homes safe from the dark cloud of despair that had been a constant throughout the day.  For them, the worst was over. They could return to their normal lives knowing that their soldiers were safe and well. This was something that Mason hated them all for. 

When the crowd had dissipated, his mother took him gently by the elbow and turned in the direction of the waiting black government vehicles that had brought them here. Mason, however, suddenly found himself unable to turn away from the casket in which his father now lay. The panic began to rise up in his chest as he realized that this was the closest he would ever be to him again. Soon there would be six-feet of heavy and cold dirt forever separating him from the man he had spent weeks and months praying could finally come home to stay. 

As his eyes began to sting from the heat of the tears that were threatening to expose the true depths of his grief he shakily whispered to his mother, “I want to stay a bit longer. I can’t leave him yet.”

“I understand, baby. Take your time and just call me when you want me to pick you up,” she said with a tight hug. “I love you.”

He watched her turn and walk towards the waiting government vehicles, desperately clinging to the folded flag that had been draped across the coffin and then ceremoniously folded and presented to her. He wanted to call out to her and ask her to not leave him, but knew that it would only make things more painful to deal with.

Instead he stood steadfast, watching as the caravan of cars drove slowly down the dirt road away from him. It wasn’t until he could no longer see the dust trail of the last vehicle that he allowed himself to collapse to his knees and release the cardinal scream that had been building over the past week. The eerie silence that followed his cathartic yell was then replaced by the heart wrenching sound of the sobs he no longer even attempted to hold back. 

**************

Several hours after his mother had left, Mason was startled awake from where he had laid on the grass next to the hole where his father’s flag draped coffin had been placed. The grief that had caused him to cry himself into an exhausted sleep flooded back to him threatening to overwhelm him once more.

“So sorry to have startled you,” a voice spoke out from behind him. “I was thinking on just lettin’ ya sleep, but I do have some work to do and I reckon you best be gettin’ home”

Mason whirled his head around to see an elderly African American man standing next to him. He recognized him as the caretaker of the cemetery that had come to town to help his brother with his duties after his home was destroyed during Hurricane Katrina. The local townies just called him Voodoo Jim, but he doubted that was his real name.

“I-I-I’d like to stay if I could,” Mason stuttered. “I don’t think I’m ready to leave him yet.”

The man’s face softened as he looked down on him. “This must be your pa’.” Mason nodded.  “What’s your name son?”

“Mason,” he replied quietly. 

“My name is Hortense Durand, but ev’body in these parts calls me Jim,” he said as the pair shook hands. “I gots some work to do elsewhere that I can get done before I come back here if you want some more time wit’ your pa. I do reckon, however, that you best be getting’ on home before it gets dark. I’m sure you have someone worryin’ ‘bout you at home. But you can come on back here to visit whenever you get to missin’ your dad.”

Mason sighed. He supposed he should be getting home to his mother. He knew that she must be having an awful time with everything herself. “I guess I should go home. But I can come back whenever?”

“Anytime. As long as your mama know where you is at,” Jim replied kindly.

The walk home was a long one and the sun had begun to dip in sky by the time he reached his house. There were still a few cars parked out front, so Mason slipped into the house through the back door in the kitchen in hopes of making it up to him bedroom unnoticed. He was able to catch his mother’s eye as he snuck past the living room to the stairs in the entryway. He was grateful to see her best friend, “Aunt” Nancy, who had driven up from Texas to be with them, sitting next to his mom and engaging the remaining guests in trivial conversation.

When he got to his room, he saw that his mother had placed the folded flag and the box containing the medal on his bed. Suddenly feeling the anger that had been building for the week or so since they had gotten the news, Mason took the flag and flung it on the top shelf in his closet and threw the medal in his plastic garbage can next to his desk. Flopping face-down on his bed he gathered his pillow around his head and screamed into his pillow.