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“Maybe I want to protect you from me.” But before I can ask why, he changes the subject. “My life over there isn’t half as dramatic, or even the slightest bit romantic the way you imagine it.”
“What’s it like?”
“It’s a lot of things. It’s a hurry up and wait situation most of the time, so there can be long stretches of time that are tedious and boring. Then just when you start getting used to the peace, everything is turned upside down by some really violent and stressful shit.” He sighs and rolls onto his back again. This time I follow, draping my body over his chest, and I’m comforted by the feel of his hand slowly coasting up and down over my back. “Some of the men do get caught up in the hero worship thing, though. You did get that part right.”
“I could see that.”
“You’re just dropped in these miserable places, where just about everyone is poor by our standards, and they’re struggling. We come in. We wreck everything first and then build it back up, or we try to anyway. It’s crazy and it’s backwards, but giving those people something as basic as fresh water is monumental. Water, can you imagine that?”
“And I imagine they’re grateful.”
“Some see you as a savior, some see you as the source of their misery.” He lets out a cheerless laugh. “People back here have no idea what it’s like. They watch the news footage and think they know but they don’t. I’ve heard people here refer to those people as savages, uneducated and primitive. Like we’re somehow morally superior. One thing this war has taught me is that we’re all the same. They love their families, they dream and hope for a good life just like we do, but when hard pressed, people do what they have to do to survive.”
“I can’t imagine living in a war-torn region.”
“We take a lot of things for granted.”
“There’s this theory I’m learning about in my Child Development class. It’s called the Hierarchy of Needs.”
“Maslow.”
“How do you know that, smarty pants? Weren’t you a finance major?”
“He’s New York City, born and bred.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yep, Brooklyn. My mother wasn’t educated but she was well-read. I’d always pick up whatever she was reading. Everything I know about art, politics and philosophy is because of her.”
“She sounds like an interesting woman.”
“She was. She didn’t get a chance to go to college, and in her case that was a real shame.”
“Where was she originally from?”
“She was born here but her parents were from Ireland.”
“And your father?”
“Norway. He came over here with his older brother, my namesake, when he was fourteen.”
“That must have been hard.”
“He never complained, but I’m sure it was.” He turns to me and smiles. “Your boy Maslow would say that sitting around and pondering what you’re missing out on is a luxury to people who are trying to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table.”
“Yes. And I’m sure that some of the people you’ve met have made some terrible choices, but they’re just trying to stay alive.”
“Exactly.”
“Why did you reenlist?”
“If you asked me a few months ago I would have been able to tell you, but right now I’m not so sure. When I made the decision we were coming off what I considered to be a big victory.”
“In battle?”
“No.” He shakes head. “We spent the last eighteen months in some shithole about an hour outside of Bagdad. We were tasked with providing a water system to a village after the place had been bombed by us and we’d completely destroyed their infrastructure. There were battles on and off, with insurgents trying to disrupt the work we were doing, but it wasn’t large scale like when I first got there.”
“But it was dangerous?”
