The General

The General was tired.

He lay there, thinking that maybe he should pray. He never really prayed before; he wasn't even sure he knew how.

Could he pray silently? Did he really have to get on his knees? Should he look up, or down? He remembered something his mother told him about covering his head... or was that just for women?

Mattie stirred and pulled at the blankets. The General had developed the habit of saying out loud what was meant to be a silent thought. "I'd better go downstairs", he thought out loud, "so I won't wake her.”

As the General approached the staircase, he saw a small boy standing in the road, just as a mortar shell exploded. He stepped over what was left of the boy, descended the stairs and headed to the kitchen. "So many boys die that way" he thought out loud. This time, Mattie was still.

As he passed through the living room he heard gunfire. He leaned toward the couch to take cover. Just then, he saw Lynn lying face down on the floor. He knew it was Lynn, because he could see the "dead cong, good cong" tattoo on his neck. He could also see the hole in his head where he'd been executed as a prisoner of war. Lynn turned to him and said "I tried, Captain." "I know," whispered the General. "I will pray for you." Lynn smiled and faded away.

The General gingerly rose from his position by the couch and continued his path toward the kitchen. As he walked, he began to cry. The sobs reached Mattie, and all at once she was out of bed and past the stairs and on her way to the kitchen. She knew better than to check the other bedrooms or the living room or bathrooms or outside. He always went and sat in the kitchen.

She sat near him and took his hand in hers. He didn't notice, but she was used to that. "Are you ready to rest now, dear " she asked.

"Do you ever pray, Mattie?"

"All the time, James."

The General gestured toward the ceiling. "Does He ever answer?"

Mattie smiled. "I believe he does. But sometimes, the answer is No."

The General wiped his face with his free right hand. "I think I need to ask for forgiveness, or grace, or undeserved kindness, or something." He turned to face her now. "I really did some bad things. They seemed right back then." He paused; his gaze shifted from her slightly, and then he thought out loud, "Could I have saved Lynn?"

Her smile faded. For a brief moment, she had him back. But he was gone again. He'd only visited her briefly over the long years of their marriage. He would appear, then retreat. Whoever it was that took his place had to be watched carefully, fed and washed like a babe, and guided through episodes like this. "Let's go back to bed, James," she said. "I’m tired.”