My Country Tis of Thee

So Manny had turned to the Marines, a dream that he had held since he was a boy. Not only would he qualify for more funding to pay for his education, but he could save a large portion of his pay each month. In five years, he could go back to college without worrying, maybe even help his parents out some.

Rachel had not liked the plan. She did not want him gone from her life, from their son's life for long periods of time. She did not want Manny putting his life in danger. She had begged and pleaded with him to reconsider. Her father had even offered Manny money if he would stay. But pride had stood in the young man's way.

Mike supposed that standing here now, Manny gone, her concerns born out; Rachel might feel vindicated. If he had known how things would turn out, would Manny have given into her pleas? Swallowed his pride to be with her and their son. They would never know now.

What Mike did know was that this young woman was hurting just as badly as the Hernandez family. That the little boy sleeping so peacefully in his car seat could offer solace and reconciliation to them all. That it was what Manny would want.

Opening the back door, Mike fumbled with the buckle on the car seat. The little boy opened his eyes and for a moment Mike's heart stopped beating in his chest. He had his father's brown eyes. Eyes that had seen so much already. Knowing eyes.

"Hey little man, your grandparents are waiting for you," Mike whispered as he finally found the clasp that would release the contraption. Lifting the car seat out the back door with the toddler still strapped inside, Mike smiled at the young mother. "Let's go."

She shook her blonde head. "No, you go ahead. Take Miguel with you. I'll just wait here."

Mike shook his head and shifted the car seat to his other hand. He reached out and circled the woman's arm with his hand. "No way. You're coming too." Capturing her gaze, he pronounced, "It's what Manny would have wanted."

She sniffled, but all her protests died. Her shoulders slumped and she bowed her head as she nodded, allowing Mike to guide her across the street.

The yard was once more filled with dozens of young people hanging around just talking. It sounded like the bees were back in their hive. Until the moment that Mike's feet touched the walkway. Conversations stopped and all heads turned to stare at them.

He felt her go stiff under his fingers. Without even turning his head, Mike whispered "Head up, soldier," he commanded. "You have more right to be here than most of these people. You remember one thing: Manny always loved you. Now one foot in front of the other. One step at a time."

Mike heard her exhale deeply and for a moment worried that she would turn and run back to the safety of her vehicle. But she did not. After a moment, he looked at her.

"Did he?" she whispered.

Mike nodded, "Yes, Ma'am. I can promise you not a day went by that boy did not say something about you or his son."

Her blues eyes filled to brimming with tears once more, "But I was so horrible to him. I never answered any of his letters or emails. I never cashed any of the checks he sent. I even declined his Skype calls."

Mike knew the pain of guilt that she bore intimately. He could not deny any of what she said. He knew that after more than one of those calls Manny had moped about camp, his famous smile nowhere in sight.

But none of that would help now. It was too late to change the past, but in this moment she had the power to decide the future. Not just for herself, but for her son, Manny's son...and for the Hernandez family. Mike had to make her see that somehow.

"Miguel lost his father. Don't make him loose his grandparents and aunts too," he pleaded with her.

Before Rachel could respond, the screen door flew open. Senora Hernandez ran through it and down the steps. Like a force of nature, she captured the girl in her arms.

"Raquéela, Raquéela. You came. You came," she cried.

Mike took a step back as he watched the women embrace. The baby stirred in his seat and let out a screech.

"And you brought Miguelito," she whispered.

Rachel nodded as the woman released her from the embrace, but kept one hand firmly in her own as if fearing that the girl would run away if she did not. Manny's mother reached for the car seat but Mike shook his head. "It's heavy, Ma'am. Let me," he said as he followed them inside.

Mike sat the car seat down next to the chair where Mama Nona was holding court. Senora Hernandez dropped to her knees, making quick work of the harnesses that had baffled him. The boy jumped from his seat the moment that he was free, running about and giggling as if he knew exactly where he was.

Senora Hernandez smiled for the first time as she sang out in Spanish to her husband and mother-in-law. She pulled Rachel forward and Mike was surprised to hear the young woman join in the conversation in perfect Spanish.

Mike smiled, knowing that he had been right. This moment was exactly what his friend would have wanted more than anything else. His mother welcoming the woman he loved back to the family. His son running about the house where he had grown up. The only thing missing was Manny's smiling face.

Mike turned back towards the door. His vision blurred a bit as he stepped into the sun light. He would just wait out here for the Congresswoman's representative. He pulled the Blackberry out of his pocket. The woman should be arriving any moment. He would introduce her to the family and explain why she was here. Then he could join the other Marines from the funeral at the bar in a toast to Corporal Manuel Hernandez.

"Why did you bring that bitch here?" Mike recognized the voice from behind his back.

Turning, he stared into Hector's glazed over stare. Looking at the empty bottle in his hand, Mike suspected that it was more than just the beer that fired this young man's bravado.

In complete honesty, Mike was itching for a fight. Connecting his fist with the boy's jaw and teaching him a thing or two about real respect would feel so damned good just then. Except that would not do the Hernandez's or Manny any good.

So instead Mike simply shrugged his board shoulders and said, "Your uncle and aunt seem to be happy I did."

"Yeah well, that rich bitch dissed Manny. She wouldn't even let him see his own kid," he slurred.

"But she brought their son today to honor his father."

"Too damned late," he said as he stumbled towards the door. "I'm gonna be a man. Do what none of you seem to have cojones enough to do. Tell her she ain't welcome here."

Mike stepped up, placing his arm about the boy's shoulder, he turned him. "Why would you want to do that, Hector? To be a big man? To show off in front of your friends?" He motioned towards the crowd gathered around them. "Trust me, kid. Doing that won't make you a man. It will hurt your family and make you look like a fool. Don't do it."

The boy shrugged out from Mike's embrace. "What you know anyway, old man?" The young man spat, getting beer on the front of Mike's uniform.

He fought once more to control the rage inside of him. It was a war he had been waging his whole life it seemed. Some battles he won and some he lost.

Turning to the group of young men that stood off to the side, he commanded, "One of you take him before he embarrasses us all." Three of the group stepped forward and guided Hector off the porch and down the steps.

Mike sighed with relief at the averted crisis as he watched them pile the boy into the back of a souped-up old car. It was pulling out from the curb just as a shiny black sedan pulled up. The official government plates told Mike that it was from the Congresswoman's office.

He walked over and opened the door. A middle aged Latina in a crisp navy blue suit looked up at him. "Master Sergeant O'Malley, I presume?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he smiled.

The woman grasped a large manila envelope off the seat next to her. "Our office in DC told me about you."

Mike smiled, "Don't believe half they told you. My bite is worse than my bark."

The woman laughed as they walked up to the door. "I hope I won't have reason to find out, Sergeant."

"I mean no disrespect, Ma'am. I just want what's right for a good man. A good man that deserves this country's gratitude and respect."

"So do we all, Sergeant. This is not the first time that the Congresswoman has been asked to handle a matter like this. It is all too common these past few years. Our Latino community has born more than its share of the burden in this war against terror."

Her dark eyes pinned Mike as she continued, "You have my word that she will do all she can to expedite Corporal Hernandez's citizenship, but these things take time, Sergeant. Time and patience."

Mike nodded as he blushed at her dressing down, "Yes, Ma'am."

She smiled, "Now, let's at least give this commendation to the family. It will do until we have something more to offer."

Mike opened the door and stood back, allowing the woman to enter first. He led her over to where Miguel was fidgeting on Mama Nona's lap. The Hernandez's sat talking on the couch with Rachel as a dozen or so other guests and family gathered around the room talking.

Clearing his throat to get their attention, Mike began, "Senor and Senora Hernandez, I would like to introduce," he paused, realizing that in her dressing down he had forgotten to get the woman's name.

She stepped forward, smoothly taking over, "Hola, mi nombré es Senora Gomez." She explained in Spanish, who she represented and her purpose in coming that day. Mike caught only a bit of the conversation as he stood back blending into the dark paneling of the wall.

The woman smiled as she read the decree. Someone stepped forward to take a photograph with their cell phone as she handed the certificate to Senor Hernandez. Manny's mother insisted that the woman stay and have a bite to eat, ushering her into the kitchen.

Mike walked over to Senor Hernandez, grasping his hand. "I should get going, Sir. I just wanted to let you know once more what a wonderful young man Manny was. It was my pleasure to serve with him. I know it is not easy, but you can be proud of him."

The man nodded, "Gracias, Sergeant Mike. I am sure you must be very busy. We are grateful that you took time out from your duties to come here. I know you must need to get back to the base soon."

Mike shook his head, "Actually, sir, I retired from the Corps."

"Oh," the man's eyes opened wide with surprise. "Then what are your plans, Sergeant?"

"I'm just taking it one day at a time, sir. I bought a motorcycle. Over the years, I've served this country with a lot of good men and women like your son. But I've never had the time to see much of it or keep up with many of them. So I thought I'd spend some time traveling, seeing places and visiting old friends."

The man grasped his hand firmly, "You are always welcome here, Sergeant. Anytime you are in Los Angeles you have a home with us."

Mike nodded. "I better change and get on the road, sir. Will you express my condolences to your wife once more?"

"Of course. Use Manny's room again. Your things should still be in there."

He headed down the hall. Relief washed over him. He had done it. He had made it through the second funeral of his life. This one had been no easier than that first almost thirty-five years before. Closing the door behind him, he made quick work of changing into his jeans and t-shirt.

He was just inspecting the stains on the front of his uniform where Hector had spit beer when he heard a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," he responded.

The door opened and Maria stood in the doorway. "I don't mean to disturb you, Sergeant Mike. But Papa said you were leaving and there is something I wanted to ask you."

Mike could tell that the girl was nervous. He knew that she was shy. Manny has said that his sisters were like night and day. Lupe, the older one, was out-going; a cheer leader and on the student council. But Maria was quieter, books were always her best friends. Manny loved both the girls, but Maria had been special to him, needing to protect her from the world outside her stories.

"What can I do for you?" he asked as she studied the beige carpet at her feet.

"In the car today, you said that Manny would not want us to cancel my quinceañera. Did you mean that?"

"Yes. I know how much his family meant to Manny." He walked over to her. Putting his fingers under her chin, he lifted her face. "You especially. Manny would want you to have your special day."

She nodded. "Manny was to be my escort though."

Mike nodded. "I know. I submitted the paperwork for his leave."

"Will you do it now?" the words burst from her like water across the top of a dam.

Mike did some quick calculations in his head. It was Saturday. The party was scheduled for the following Friday. Almost a week away. He had planned to spend a day or two more in the area, purchasing a few things he would need for the road.

Then he was off to Oklahoma to be with Billy's father Mister Clyde. The man had been in a nursing home for the past two years. Alzheimer's. Mike was listed along with his daughter in Chicago as next of kin.

They had contacted him a couple of weeks ago to let him know that the man was deteriorating. It would not be much longer. But when Mike had checked in with them yesterday, they said that he had had a few good days. Mike knew that those good days would not last, but maybe they would buy him some time. Maybe he could stretch this trip a few more days. For the girl. For Manny.

He nodded his head. "I'd be honored, Maria."

The girl smiled. "Muchas gracias. Thank you, Sergeant Mike. I'll tell Mama and Papa that we can go on with the party."

She ran down the hall with as much care as Miguel was running about the living room, wreaking havoc with the knick-knacks on the shelves around the room. Not that anyone cared. Some things were important, like family, friends and country. Other things were just things.

Mike turned back to the bed and finished packing his uniform into the bag. "I hope like hell I don't have to wear you again anytime soon," he said, thinking of the group of former Marines waiting for him in the bar down the road.

With his duffle bag in his hands, he paused and looked about the room. Staring at the photograph of Manny in his uniform that glinted in its silver frame on the dresser, he raised his hand in salute. He slipped from the quiet room, down the hall and out the front door.

It was not until he had stowed his bag in the compartment on his motorcycle and gotten into the seat that he looked up at the bungalow where Corporal Manuel Hernandez had been raised.

"May whatever's waiting out there treat you well, Corporal," he pronounced as he turned on Esther's engine and headed off down the street to join that motley band.

CHAPTER FOUR

The ride to the bar where he was to meet Luke and the others was not that long. A quick jaunt down the six-ten to where it ended in Long Beach and a couple more miles to Seal Beach, a sleepy Southern California beach community known for its surfing. Mike had visited a couple of bars there more than once back in his younger and wilder days. But that had been over a decade ago. Back before the world changed.

The place could best be described as a hole in the wall, hidden at the back of a strip mall off of the main drag. The parking lot around it was filled with Harleys as well as SUVs, trucks and even a couple of flashy sports cars. It was an eclectic lot, especially considering the fact that Happy Hour would not begin for at least another hour or so. Mike found a place to park Esther not far from the door. He took off his helmet and stored it a compartment.

Taking a deep breathe of the salty sea air, he steeled himself. He knew from years of experience that alcohol was no solution. He had spent a good seven years after Desert Storm and Billy's death trying to drown it all in a bottle. If he was not on duty, he could be found in any of a half dozen bars around San Diego.

In fact, he had come damned close to losing it all. His drinking and a couple of bar fights had led to mandatory anger management classes and a demotion. He still had the nightmares of holding Billy's head, red liquid trailing from his nose and mouth, as the sound of him gurgling and drowning in his own blood echoed in his dreams.

Irony was that when he re-enlisted after nine-eleven he knew he was heading back to that hot, dry desert. He knew that there would be more Billy's. He knew that he would lead men to their deaths. Hell, some warped part of him even hoped that it would be him. That the nightmares and the hell that he lived in would end where it had all begun.

But watching the television that morning, he had realized for the first time how important the job that he and the other men and women he worked with really was. Knowing that those buildings were full of civilians; men and women who were not trained for war, who went to work that morning to type letters and trade stocks or a dozen other mundane things. They had expected another day at the office. They had probably even looked out their windows and wished they were in the sunshine instead.

Then the planes hit and the world changed. Sergeant Michael Thomas O'Malley changed. He became a US Marine perhaps for the first time in the decade that he had served. He was proud of what he did and uniform he wore. Despite it all, he still was.

He slung his leg across his bike and walked to the door. A large black man stood sentry at it. His arms that reminded Mike of saplings were crossed about his chest as he stared Mike up and down.

"You with Luke's bunch, ain't you?" he asked.

Mike nodded.

"Yeah, well, keep it down back there. Those old guys haven't started a fight in over a year. Just because they have fresh, young blood don't think ya'll can tonight. Understand buddy?"

Mike held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not here for any trouble. Just a few beers and conversation."

"Well, keep it that way. They at their usual booth in the back, past the pool tables."

"Thanks," Mike nodded and stepped inside. He stopped just inside the doors, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim neon lights.

He smiled as the lonesome twang of country music drifted to his ears. Leave it to this lot to find the one bar in all of Southern California that had country music on its juke box.

Even with an almost packed room, it only took Mike a moment to locate the group sitting at a table in the back, just as the man had said. He could see that the table top was already littered with a couple of dozen empty beers mugs and shot glasses. If he had thought to drown his own troubles in the bottle, he decided then and there that it might be a better idea to go slow and keep a cool head, watch out for these guys' backs tonight.

He was headed towards the back when a sultry voice stopped him. "Hey, jarhead, what you having?"

Mike looked over to the woman standing behind the bar. She was probably a couple years older than he was, but well preserved. Her platinum blonde hair was obviously dyed and the black t-shirt that read 'Kay's' was stretched taut over D-cup breasts that Mike would bet were compliments of one of Southern California's best plastic surgeons.

"Just a beer. Whatever you have on tap will be fine," he replied, walking over to the bar. As he approached, he could see the round curves of her bottom that filled in the tight jeans she wore.

"You a new addition to that gang?" she asked with a smile.

"A temporary one maybe," he replied. "I bought my bike from Luke and then we ran into one another..." his voice faded off.

How did one say at a funeral? Death and dying were never comfortable topics in society, but more so when that death was a young soldier in battle. People just did not want to think about the reality, the true cost of their freedoms and safety.