Feast Of Flash - Honorable Mention - Daniel Stine

Daniel Stine is an American ex-pat living and working in China. His new blog, Daniel's In China, offers funny and poignant insight into the ways of Big Red. Here is his very gripping Thanksgiving tale that will leave you wondering about all the "what ifs" in life.

Thanks Giving
by Daniel Stine

Thanksgiving. I don’t know about that, I’ve done my share of thanks earning and thanks giving but it’s like a one way street, man; no return traffic. Well, none of that matters now.

Jack Stewart sat huddled against an early sprinkling of snow, waiting for the Garden City 201 bus in Charlotte, North Carolina. His mood, as usual, was sour. He had no idea how his brother was going to react to his appearance today, only that Tommy was in for a surprise. Every year Tommy invited his brother for holiday festivities and every year Jack was a no-show. This year, this particular holiday, Jack would show.

I was a goddamn football star, on my way to the pros when the US Army drafted me. I told myself it was OK, that I wanted to serve, to give thanks for the freedoms we enjoy. I did three tours in Vietnam before I got my million dollar wound. Yeah, they gave me the Purple Heart alright, with attitude. Like I jumped in front of Charlie's bullet. Thanks for nothing is what they really said.

The bus arrived, fully packed with holiday travelers all heading to their relatives for a day of feasting and football. Jack pushed his way through the mass of bodies to the middle exit door well, where, despite the glare from the bus driver, he stood relatively distant from the others.

Nobody gave me thanks for the lives I saved, for the nightmares I’ve endured these thirty odd years. Every relationship I’ve ever had failed all because they never understood how much I really gave. Now they never will.

Jack got off the 201 in an upper-middle class neighborhood and soon found himself standing before a two-story house resting on a well trimmed lawn.

Tommy’s done well for himself. He’s not going to want some old war dog like me there to ruin his holiday, maybe this is a bad idea...

A curtain flutter stole Jacks last opportunity to run as the front door was flung open and Tommy came out, arms as wide as the grin on his handsome face.

“Jack! You came!”

Jack found himself in an Old Spice infused bear hug before Tommy pushed him back proclaiming “You look terrible.”

That’d be the reason for the visit, little brother. One last shot at normalcy before it all goes away.

Jack, unused to speaking, stammered “I hope it’s OK, that, uh, that I came without notice, and all.”

A moist-eyed Tommy smiled hugely saying “Brother, you don’t need notice, c’mon in. It's cold out here.”

Jack plastered a makeshift smile on his face and allowed Tommy to pull him into a one-armed hug as they turned and entered the house.

The warmth and long ago familiar smells of roasting turkey and hot cider rushed Jack’s senses, stripping thirty years of insult, both real and imagined, from his spirit. However, just as the weight of the years was lifted, a crush of people was on him as relatives, neighbors, and old friends all poured in from every corner of the suddenly tiny house. Everyone was patting his back, shaking his hand, and clamoring for attention. Between the heat of the house and his already weakened body it was too much, Jack fainted.

He came to a few minutes later on a comfortable couch in a quiet den. For an instant, he thought he was alone, but then a voice came to him.

“Tommy’s calling 911, you should lay still.”

Jack saw a man standing to his left. He was fit and fiftyish, wearing comfortable, vaguely military style clothes.

“Jack, do you remember me?”

“Rob Crupert, we were in ‘Nam together, right?”

Rob smiled, “Nothing wrong with your memory, Sir”

“I haven’t been a sir in thirty years Rob, stick with calling me Jack.” A low hacking cough clipping his response.

“Sir, uh, Jack. Are you alright?” Rob turned and with a clinking of crystal returned with a shot of something amber.

Jack took the drink gratefully, took a sip, and smiled. “This is more like it. Yeah I’m fine. Too many people, not enough air,” he joked.

“Listen Jack, did you hear about Lieutenant Wayons? Our CO back in ‘Nam?” Robert’s face was a strange mix of old anger and fresh anticipation.

“What of him?” Jack rasped as he remembered his commanding officer and his oft repeated mantra: we’re not here for medals, we’re here to kill Charlie.”

Rob paused before speaking, composing himself. “Lieutenant Wayons admitted that he had neglected to submit the proper forms for medals earned under fire. Apparently, a few men in our unit came together recently and demanded a review on your behalf.”

Jack put the scotch down, folding his hands against his lips. After a minute, he looked up to Rob, who was standing silently at his side. “Why would they go and do that, son?”

Robert smiled “We heard you were living outside the world, Jack, somebody had to bring you back”

Better late than never, right.

Jack felt a peace settle over him.

Maybe there is something to this whole Thanksgiving thing after all.

Tommy and the paramedics came in at that moment, interrupting the conversation. After a flurry of activity, one of the paramedics looked at Jack.

“Something you want to tell us sir?”

How do you tell people you’ve avoided a lifetime that you’re dying?

Looking over at Rob and then to Tommy, Jack smiled and said,

“Thanks.”