The White Picket Fence
I sat in the dark, my back hard against our white picket fence. Sheila, my wife, was not happy about my forthcoming trip. She was frightened, uncertain if she could live with the risk of whether I'd come home or not.
I was feeling stupid. I'd been insensitive. My conscience told me to get back inside the house and embrace the woman I loved.
I did embrace her. I tried to make up for my stupidity, and we both shared some passion trying to make up for our impetuous argument.
Wrapped in her arms I whispered, "This will be the last time sweetheart." But I'd made that empty promise before. She didn't believe me this time either.
Six weeks later; Mediterranean Sea:
I played for time on the rocking, motor-launch deck, verbally parrying to gain a few more minutes for our diver to set his charges. I'd befriended Jaleel, the foul-breathed, black-bearded Turk. He was a scoundrel, a mercenary and smuggler, sure, but smart! I could see distrust mounting in his close-set, piggy eyes. I saw his quick glances right and left, beckoning his greasy henchmen. They were baying for blood. I could take one, two at a pinch; but not five.
I was ready. When Jaleel's patience snapped I hit the water and dived deep, trying to stay vertical, and less of a target as I went down. As expected, bullets were hitting the water around me soon enough, and almost before the thought, I felt the sting in my leg.
Soon enough I leveled out, and made desperate sweeping strokes underwater with my arms, trying to get as far away from the boat as possible. I sent a silent plea to God that the diver had succeeded.
I couldn't resist turning to look back as I surfaced, and sure enough the diver had done his work. The boat was in flames. I love divers!
Figuring they'd be too busy saving themselves to worry about me, I set off stroking in the direction of land. In the far distance there were pinpricks of light. The distance was possible. The long-distance swimming ability had been one of the factors that clinched the job for me ten years earlier. Now all I had to worry about was sharks, and I prayed I wasn't leaving a trail of blood from my leg.
At that moment I made up my mind. They're not paying me enough for this secret agent crap. I owe it to Sheila and Candy to get a life and spend some time with them.
Candy was our only child.
Oh God...I can see the faces of those two precious females now. What the hell am I thinking? Sheila went through hell to bring her safely into the world, and a five-year-old doesn't deserve to lose her father this early. Dear God...let me make it to shore.
I had to get my mind off myself. With each stroke I reaffirmed the vow, I will never leave them again.
I settled into my long-distance pattern: deliberate even strokes; breathing steadily, and trying to stay relaxed. I couldn't feel the wound in my leg for at least half an hour.
Then the pain started. Jesus, will I make it?
I was thinking of Sheila and Candy again. Just last night, I'd read my daughter a bedtime story. "I love you, Daddy," she'd said in that beguiling way that daughters have.
Then I thought of Sheila. I was back there, after I'd finally left the fence where I'd been sulking. I was back in bed caressing her beautiful folds. Smelling her delicious freshly showered body and feeling her respond to my mounting ardour.
Later, wrapped in our bathrobes, we shared confidences whilst sipping coffee. In that moment in the water I agonised, 'God I love that woman!'
I'd always known it, but had I really known it? God, just let me live through this... I just want to be back inside that fence. What I'd give to be back there, feeling its hardness on my spine. That's what I'd always wanted; the white picket fence around the suburban cottage; the epitome of normal. I suddenly longed for normal, not this struggling for life caper.
About an hour later I collapsed onto the beach, not caring if it was sand, mud or gravel.
--0--
"You're crazy," my boss told me, "what's this crap about a white picket fence, for God's sake!?"
"That's it! The white picket fence... Don't you see? It's normal, it's what I want."
He went off shaking his head and muttering disgustedly, "Picket fence! Picket bloody fence...
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