The Hardest Thing

Jody meant to me. And yes—he called him Jody. “His granddaddy’s name was Joseph. We gave him that as a second name. Always called him that as a kid. Joe, Jody. Guess it stuck.” So—Brian Joseph Cooper. At last he had a name. Mother’s name was Miller, married to Steve Cooper “for a while” before she took off. Of her whereabouts, alive or dead, he said nothing. Those stories of growing up with a druggy mom in Michigan, or her
various “boyfriends” who put him to work—truth or lies? Who knew what memories were inside his head as it rested motionless on the pillow? Was there anything left, or was it wiped clean? Was there still such a person as Brian Joseph Cooper, or just a body to be fed and washed?
    I kept telling myself that I was wasting my time, that there was no point sitting by his bed day after day, waiting for a miracle. Miracles don’t happen to guys like Dan Stagg. Dan Stagg loses everything he cares about. And he doesn’t have so much to care about in the first place.
    Go do what you’re good at, Dan. Killing and losing.
    But I kept coming back.
    On the evening of the fourth day, Steve and I went to a crummy bar in Trenton and got drunk. We were both staying in cheap hotels, and at that point anything seemed better than listening to the life-support machine, or another evening alone in a rented room. So we drank beers and talked about our lives. I told him my service record. He told me about working in the auto industry. I mentioned that I grew up in Massachusetts; he said that he’d been there on holiday once. We both had sisters who were school teachers. We managed a basic level of sports talk. By the time we got to the third beer, we were running out of subjects. Thank god for alcohol.
    “Marine, huh.”
    Here we go again—another trot around the more obvious theaters of conflict of the last couple of decades. Yes, Afghanistan really was as bad as it sounds. Yes, Saddam was a motherfucker. “Uh-huh.”

    Steve nodded, drank, wiped his mouth. “Didn’t know they took guys like you in the marines.”
    Shit. Didn’t see that one coming. “They didn’t.”
    “So why’d you join?”
    “Didn’t think about it when I was eighteen.”
    “But you knew, right?”
    “I guess.”
    “You one of them that goes both ways?”
    Where was this leading? Surely not… “No, sir.” I shook my head. “Never was much interested in girls.”
    “Okay.” More beer. “Like Jody.”
    “Yeah. Like Jody.”
    The TV burbled on in the background. I was grateful for that.
    “So why did you… No, it’s none of my business.”
    “Go on.”
    “Why did you join up? If you couldn’t…you know.”
    “That’s a question I’ve asked a lot in the last few years, Steve.”
    “Yeah.” He signaled the barman for more beers. “Guess we all fuck up.” Beer came, we drank. “I been married three times.”
    “Three? Jesus.”
    “Yep. Each one was the one. Each one fucked me over.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “His mama was the first. Real teen queen, you know? Got pregnant when she was eighteen. She told me it was mine—and I guess it could have been. So I did the decent thing. But I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She left us when Jody was four.”
    “Okay.”

    “My second wife didn’t much take to him. He started running away. Detroit, Chicago with his friends. Didn’t come home much anymore. My third wife…she was one of those women who got religion, and she wanted to reform us. Stop me drinking. Stop Jody from being what he was. I got sick of it after a while.” He drank, shrugged. “So here I am.”
    “Yup.” We clinked bottlenecks. “Here we are.”
    “Got my boy back, though.”
    “Yeah.” What’s left of him…
    “You going to stick around, Dan? You know, when he’s better.”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Then why’re you here?”
    “I guess I feel responsible.”
    “Responsible.” He looked at the TV. “Responsible.”
    Damn him, damn Martin, damn everyone telling me what to do and making me feel bad. Damn Jody, for that matter. Damn Will. Damn the lot of them.
    “If Jody…”
    Steve looked up. “What?”
    “If he wants me to stay.”
    “He wants you to stay.”
    “He actually told you that?”
    “About all he did tell me. Before…” He tapped the side of his head. “You know.”
    “Okay.” A future sketched itself out in my mind before I could stop it—Jody and me setting up home together, getting jobs, a couple of dogs, a yard full of goldenrod