Page 50 of The Burning
Tall guy spoke again. “Why don’t you ask him about the wall? You want that wasteful wall built, don’t you? Tell Mendoza that. Look him in the eyes and tell him that.”
I stepped into the middle of the circle. “Okay, okay, guys.”
Mendoza’s face hardened. “I’m from fucking Cali, bro. My family is from Mexico. You’re ignorant as fuck. Like the wall. You need to watch your mouth.” He reached out and ripped the whiskey bottle from one of the soldier’s hands.
This was going to get ugly. I could feel everyone’s adrenaline winding up. It was affecting me, too. My body was morphing into fight mode as everyone’s body language had changed. I tried to toss water over their fire. One trip to the ER this week was enough.
“You’re still going to deploy, you little bastards,” I said. “And you’ll be sitting over in that goddamn sandbox bickering about the same shit. And who’s going to have your back?”
They looked at each other.
“It’s sure the fuck not going to be the president or any politician. Doesn’t matter who the president is, this shit has been going on since before we were born. This is what’s important, not some fucking Oval Office that knows us by a number. Even if you die, it doesn’t matter who the president is. To him, his biggest reason for not wanting you dead is because death tolls influence his stats during his term. Not because they want you alive. And not just him. All of them.Weare all we have, so stop turning on each other before you get all of us killed next time we deploy.”
“We aren’t deploying. Last I heard, they’re pulling troops out,” the quiet tanker said. I knew by the symbol printed on his shirt. There were soldiers who just never turned it off and branded themselves as soldiers in every part of their lives.
I laughed. “Oh, yes, you will. Maybe not in the next six months. But your orders will come soon enough. Now, vote for who you vote for, and stand up for what you stand up for, but stop ruining Elodie’s fucking baby shower.”
I looked specifically at the tall kid.
“But don’t let your politics stop you from doing your job. We’re the boots on the ground. Not them. So stop letting it divide us so everyone doesn’t get killed, because guess what?” I looked at these boys who wanted to be men so bad. “At the end of the day, some people will just be on the wrong side of history and that’s their burden to carry. You had your reasons for signing up, we all did, now either shut the hell up or go to a bar. This is a goddamn baby shower.”
Some of these kids were total shitbags and I knew it must have boiled their blood to be told to shut up by a Black man, but I dared anyone to say anything to me that was out of line. I learned within my first year enlisted that arguing with other soldiers over politics wasn’t going to change their minds. People usually needed to actually see shit for themselves to open their minds, and even then, some people just didn’t change. But one thing was clear: in the Army, political arguments got you into nothing but a fuck-ton of trouble and could ruin your career or get you killed.
“Yeah, well, from what I heard you won’t be deploying, either.” The tanker smirked, looking down at my leg.
He turned to the other guys and they all smiled; the tall one even laughed. My hands clenched at my sides. So, everyone knew that I was disabled now. Word traveled to them and got them thinking they were better than me now because of my injury. I was no longer Martin, the twenty-one-year-old E5 who saved lives and got promotions and medals faster than everyone else in the company. I was the useless vet now. A disposable, disabled, Black, useless veteran.
Mendoza rose up, pressing his bottle into the tanker’s chest. My mind was in fight mode, but my body was still.
“You better watch your fucking mouth. All of you.” His whole body shook as he threw the bottle to the side. It shattered as it hit the concrete patio.
Toni had come back outside and she screamed as the glass flew near her feet.
“What the fuck?” Tharpe rushed to Mendoza. I moved between them before Tharpe could lay a finger on Mendoza. Tharpe would thank me later. His wife, too.
“Guys, guys, guys.” Fischer pushed through, grabbing Tharpe’s shirt. “Come on. Look at her,” he said, nodding to Elodie. “It’s her baby shower. You fucking idiots.”
Elodie seemed worried even as she smiled, looking across the group of us men. She was scared, I could sense it.
“Don’t you know we’re all doomed anyway?” Fischer continued.
He reminded me of his sister and her idea that doom was imminent. I guessed both of them were taught by their mother and her stories threaded with promises of punishments from the sky.
“Back down or get off my fucking property,” Tharpe threatened Mendoza, the beer giving him extra courage.
“Watch your fucking boys, then. I guess you didn’t tell them who the fuck I am, because they wouldn’t be threatening me if they knew.” He raised his fist, still wrapped in a bandage, and slammed it against the palm of his other hand.
“None of you want to fuck with me!” he yelled, hitting his hands together again. I reached for his arm and yanked him back.
He stood still, not fighting me. He was homed in on them. Mendoza lifted his hand up, looking straight at the boys, and used two fingers to make the shape of a gun. The tanker flinched as Mendoza pretended to pull a trigger, clicking his tongue.
“Stop! Oh my god. Stop it!” Toni shrieked, grabbing hold of her husband as he tried to step to Mendoza.
Elodie’s eyes were wide, shocked, as she stared at them. She had probably only seen the sweet Mendoza, not the man with his finger on a trigger. If she thought this was bad, maybe she wasn’t really ready for Phillips to come home after all.
“Fuck this. I’m going. Come on, Elodie,” Fischer said to her. “You guys are all dicks. Elodie, I’m gonna get an Uber and I’ll take you home.”
“Where are you sleeping?” she asked him, concern clear in her voice.
