He was so afraid.
There was no one to tell. No one to share with. His wife, his parents thought he was fine.
``I never worry about Carl, I know he's always fine,'' his mother said. And she was glad because she had other children who were not fine. After all, Carl made it through Marine Boot Camp when his two friends got sent home. Now his two friends were graduating from college and Carl was getting turned down for truck driver jobs.
He'd walk in to apply with his good looking resume in hand and he was tall and strong and pleasant and competent and the slobs behind the desk would turn him down. It never happened to Patty. She could walk into a book-keeper job any day of the week. But Patty was nine months pregnant so it was all up to him to keep the family afloat. The trouble was that Marine Lance Corporal with a sharp shooter certificate didn't mean a damn thing in the real world. No one cared about his marksmanship, his resourcefulness under pressure.
He'd never been afraid in the Marines. Even in the Special Exercise he was forbidden to discuss he had never been afraid. He had a job to do and he did it. Easy. No doubts. Be quiet and do what you're told. Simple.
Not like the real world.
In the real world slobs were driving Mercedes and his old beater had thrown a rod and he was hoping the cab company would take his credit card when Patty had to go to the hospital.
So he was sitting on a park bench crying like a baby - blubbering like a kid. Turned down on a job site. Turned down for convenience store clerk. Run off the corner where the illegals wait for casual labor jobs. Now what?
The tears wouldn't stop. No help in sight. A kid was staring at him.
``What are you staring at? Get away!'' Carl said.
``Why are you crying?'' the boy asked.
``I'm not crying.'' Carl said.
He knew what he had to do. The Marines wouldn't take him back but the Air Force would. Maybe he could go to school. Get computer skills. Four years from now the world would be a different place.
Four years from now he'd be a different man.