To Love Someone Broken: The Story of Lorie and Linda
The Fortune Cookie - Monthly Chat
It is winter, and I am nursing a heartbreak way too long after the relationship ended. I am sitting in a dark booth, across from a man who just proved he is better at pool than I am. He is talking and I am barely listening. Between us sits a pile of sticky wings, a new fad at the time. The waitress comes over and drops off a basket of napkins and those small, tight squares of Wet Naps. I see my date freeze. A cloud passes his face. For a moment, I saw a completely different person hiding behind his eyes.
“When I was in the war, we fought from a hole in the ground. We were there for months. The only supply we had to clean ourselves were those awful Wet Naps. The smell of them haunts
me.” I stare at him, see him for the first time without my haze of indifference. What he just said, so profound, broke open a space between us. His demeanor seemed so normal, but how can someone endure what he just described and be able to eat wings and play pool in what should be a normal world? I fell in love at that moment with a man who endured the unimaginable. We married, had children, vacationed, and planned. Bubbles exploded throughout it all, revealing the horrors he endured. He was the Medic in a small unit, deployed to the worst massacre in the history of the war. Of all the young men who fought in that hole, he was one of the very few who was able to escape. Just not completely. He lived his life, enjoying friends, neighbors, his grandchildren.
I never thought something so simple, so mundane would be what took him away.
The tight funeral parlor crammed with intimidating Veterans. A plaque displaying his medals, a speech from a fellow soldier. The enormous military cemetery laid open for him like a red carpet. The groundskeepers standing still, hats off, hands over their hearts. A full color guard and a million salutes. It was as profound as he was. There is a hole in the world where his presence once was; it misses the man who enjoyed the monotony of life while carrying the burden of his memories.
It was complicated to love someone broken.
I thank you, both.
About Susan:
I am Susan Schuler (she/her/hers). An artist high on her own supply. A wife, mother, daughter, sister, survivor. I was honored to have a piece in the first RRomp issue under Written Word. Susan writes a regular monthly piece on The RRomp Library called The Fortune Cookie.
Instagram: @susan.schuler.creates