A Charmed Life
Chapter 20: Take the Long Way Home

Copyright© 2016 by The Outsider

02 June 1991 – Off State Highway 64, Coconino County, Arizona

’That’s one hell of a foxhole,’ Jeff thought while watching the sunrise over the Grand Canyon.

He woke at zero-dark-thirty that morning for the drive from Winslow, Arizona to Grandview Point. The view made every second of lost sleep worth it, as did his stop in Winslow. His mom was a big Eagles fan, and Jeff made sure someone there took a picture of him standing on a street corner.

Jeff captured the sunrise as it rose over the landscape, using a full roll of film: thirty-six shots. He changed rolls as fast as he could. Pictures of the Canyon itself as the first sunlight spilled into it would fill this next roll. Jeff knew the colors on both rolls would be amazing, though they would pale beside the real thing. There were a dozen more rolls of film, both exposed and unexposed, in the truck. He documented his trip well. He’d spend a small fortune in processing, but he didn’t care.

He turned from the observation point and allowed another tourist to take his spot. He asked a park ranger for recommendations on breakfast spots nearby. Jeff made his way back out to State Route 64 and turned east.

Jeff thought about his trip out from Fayetteville during the drive to the restaurant. The trip had been a leisurely one, one he could have made in two days. The trip took four days instead. Fine by him. With no deadline and no one expecting him, he limited himself to eight hours of driving per day.

He rubbed a hand across his face. The unaccustomed feeling of stubble greeted him. He hadn’t shaved since May 28th, his last day in uniform. He’d have to shave in two or three days, though. Maybe four.

The place the ranger told him about looked like a place the locals kept secret from the tourists. The outside didn’t look like much, but Jeff noted the volume of people streaming in and out of the restaurant. He was able to grab a spot at the counter after a twenty-minute wait. He was used to such waits back home at The Lunch Car.

The menu contained Southwest-inspired items The Lunch Car’s didn’t. He ordered the huevos rancheros, jalapeño cornbread, and coffee. He looked around while he ate and appreciated how the decor tended towards the homey. It was a nice change from the in-your-face-Southwestern trappings of tourist-oriented places.

“More coffee, hon?” Jeff nodded to the waitress as he chewed. “Where ya from?”

“Stick out like a sore thumb do I, Ma’am? I’m from Enfield, Massachusetts originally. It’s out in the western part of the state.”

“How about now?”

“I’ve been at Fort Bragg for the last four years. I got out of the Army last week and drove out here.”

“You lookin’ for work?”

“No, Ma’am. I wanted to see the Canyon before I head north to visit my buddy’s family in Spokane. I’ll be headed home after that.”

“That’s one hell of a detour. You’re visiting your buddy’s family, but not your buddy?”

“Well, him too, eventually. Gotta figure out where he’s buried first.” The woman looked at him in shock. “Sorry, Ma’am. Ken died in the Gulf War. I’m headed to Spokane to pay my respects to his family. I need to go there before I get tied up in life.”

The woman put the coffee pot down, shock and sorrow visible on her face.

“One of my brother’s buddies did the same thing after Vietnam. He said he’d rather forget about the war, but he’d never forget Irv.” She wiped a tear from her eye.

“Your brother was lucky to have a good friend like that, Ma’am. I apologize, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“Fred’s a good man,” the woman said, twisting her wedding ring. “Has been for the twenty-five years I’ve known him. Your friend’s family will be thankful that you visited them. Do they know you’re coming?”

Jeff nodded. “I told them I’d come by when I left the Army, but I haven’t told them I’m on the way. I’ll call them after I get to Spokane. They’ve had enough surprises.”


Jeff rolled into Spokane two days later. His hotel reservation was for four nights. He wasn’t sure how long researching the location of Ken’s gravesite would take. The desk clerk at his hotel proved to be a godsend.

“You’re looking for someone’s grave, but you don’t know where it is?” she asked when he checked in.

“Yeah, a buddy of mine from the Army. He was killed in the Gulf War.”

“Holy Cross.”

“Sorry?”

“Holy Cross Cemetery. It’s about three miles from here.”

“How do you know that?”

“Your buddy’s death was the only death Spokane had during the war, so it was a pretty big deal. They showed the procession from the church to the cemetery on live TV back in March. I remember because my grandfather’s buried at Holy Cross, too. I’ll write down what plot your buddy’s in for you.” Jeff looked at the woman behind the counter and raised an eyebrow. “What? I was curious.”

Jeff secured his belongings in his room before preparing his uniform. The next morning a different desk clerk referred him to a barbershop nearby. Jeff specified he was looking for a ‘barbershop’ and not ‘a place to get my hair cut.’ The shop was a short five-minute walk away. A bell rang when Jeff opened the door.

“Be right out!” a voice called from the back of the shop.

“Thank you!” Jeff called back while he looked at the items on the shop walls. The owner was once in the Army as well, a master sergeant. The owner stepped out of the back.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Can I help you?”

“Yes, Sergeant. I need to look like a paratrooper again, not some long-haired hippie freak.”

The owner laughed while he walked over and extended his hand.

“I see you speak my language. John Kershaw.”

“Jeff Knox.”

“On leave?”

“Yes, but it’s a terminal condition.”

“Best kind of leave there is. What brings you to Spokane?”

“Paying my respects to a buddy’s family after I go by his gravesite.”

John nodded, a somber look on his face. “I had to do that a few times after my tours in ‘Nam. How many?”

“Just Ken.”

“You’re lucky. Well, let’s get you squared away again.”

The cut didn’t take long since John used electric clippers exclusively. A whirring sound echoed through the shop. John applied warm shaving cream to the sides of Jeff’s head and the back of his neck. John then took a straight razor and slid it repeatedly over a leather strap. He scraped the foam and remaining stubble off Jeff’s head and neck next.

John surprised Jeff when he laid the barber’s chair flat like a recliner. John’s next surprise was when he extracted an honest-to-goodness hot, wet towel from a special cabinet, and draped it over Jeff’s face. A few minutes passed before Jeff heard the shaving cream dispenser whir again. John pulled the towel off and tossed it in the sink. He applied shaving cream to Jeff’s face and stropped the razor again. The cream and Jeff’s stubble disappeared under John’s practiced hand. He sat Jeff upright again. Aftershave soothed and cooled Jeff’s face.

“All set, Airborne!”

“The base barbers never did this good of a job. Thanks, John.”

“My pleasure. When are you heading over?”

“I’m headed back to the hotel now. I’ll get changed into my Class-As and head over to the cemetery.”

“Tell him this old vet says ‘thanks.’ I’ll trade stories with him when I get up where he is one day.”

“Wilco, Sergeant.”


Putting his As on was like putting on a favorite shirt: comfortable. Jeff spent a few minutes checking his appearance in the mirror after he finished changing. He walked down to his truck once assured everything was in order. He drove the ten minutes to Holy Cross Cemetery. It took him another five to find Ken’s grave.

Jeff stared at Ken’s headstone after he parked his truck. He sat there for many minutes, gazing at the stark, white stone. Ken’s family had opted for the traditional white marble headstone common to military cemeteries like Arlington. Jeff climbed out of his truck, rolled up the window, and locked the door.

Jeff approached the grave in a daze. He stopped a pace away and crouched. His chest began to tighten as the writing on the headstone blurred. His hand reached out to touch the stone. This time he made no attempt to stop the tears. They fell like rain. Minutes passed before he was able to compose himself again.

Jeff wiped his face. He pushed the two small flags he carried into the ground in front of Ken’s headstone: Old Glory and the 82nd Airborne Division’s flag. He stood and took two steps back. He rendered a parade-ground quality salute to his friend’s grave. He dropped the salute and executed an about-face.

Jeff’s breath caught in his throat.

Keiko stood six feet away, crying, her hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs. He stepped over to her, wrapped his arms around her, and held her. Jeff stroked her long, dark hair while she sobbed into his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Keiko-chan,” he whispered. Her pain cut through him.

Keiko wiped her face minutes later after she calmed down. “When did you get here, Jeffrey?”

“I got to Spokane last night. I was going to call after my visit here. How long have you been here?”

“I was walking up when you crouched down. I started crying when you did.”

“He was my friend, Keiko. My best friend. He saved my life in Panama when he took that bullet in his arm.”

“What ‘bullet?’”

“He never told you guys?” Jeff told Keiko about the defense of the patrol base in 1989. “I could have never repaid him for that as it was, but then he goes and introduces me to you. And not that I didn’t want to see you today, but how did you wind up here?”

“I felt I needed to come to see Ken today. I cannot explain why. I walked here from our house. Where did you stay last night?” Jeff told her. “You must come to the house.”

“I was planning to. I need to express my condolences to your parents in person.”

“Let us take your truck, then.”

“Do you need to have a moment with Ken first?”

Keiko looked at Ken’s grave and smiled while she held onto Jeff. She felt her brother smiling back at her.

“I already have.”


Mayumi Takahashi heard the screen door at the front of the house close while she finished her meditation. She heard movement in the front hall as she stood, bowed to the picture of her son, and then turned.

“Keiko, back so...?” Her question faded as disbelief crossed her features.

Jeff bowed to his best friend’s mother, the woman who would be his mother-in-law one day. He no longer doubted that fact.

“Takahashi-sama, words are inadequate to express my sorrow at Ken’s loss.”

Mayumi overcame her shock and bowed back. “Jeffrey-san.”

She approached her son’s best friend and embraced him. It was Jeff’s turn to be shocked. That shock increased when she kissed his cheek.

“My son chose his best friend well. You promised to visit when you wrote to us in April. That you would drive twenty-seven hundred miles to say those words speaks to your character.”

“He came farther than that, Mother.” Mayumi raised an eyebrow at her youngest. “Jeffrey stopped at the Grand Canyon first.”

The brow swung in Jeff’s direction.

“Ken and I talked about visiting the Canyon someday,” Jeff shrugged. “My family understands why I needed to come here once my obligation to the Army was complete. I’ve been letting them know where I am. There’s no deadline for me to get home.”

“You are out of the Army, then?”

 
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