When
they met in the fourth grade, it was love at first sight for Mitchell
Brody and Jessica Ramirez. He was the freckle-faced kid who stood up for
her honor when he silenced the class bully who’d been teasing her
because of her accent. She was the new kid whose family moved to San
Juan Island, Washington, from San Juan, Puerto Rico, and whom Mitch had
thought was the most beautiful girl in the world.
She was
his salvation from a strict upbringing. He was her knight in shining
armor who had always looked out for her. Through the many years of
porch-swinging, cotton-candied summer nights, autumn harvest festivals,
and hand-in-hand walks planning for the ideal life together, they were
inseparable…until 9/11, when the real world interrupted their
Rockwell-esque small town life, and Mitch had joined the Marine Corps.
This is
not just the story of a wounded warrior finally coming home to search
for the love, and the world he abandoned twenty years before. It is also
the story of a man who is seeking forgiveness and a way to ease the
pain caused by every bad decision he’d ever made. It’s the story of a
woman who, with strength and determination, rose up from the ashes of a
shattered dream; but who never gave up hope that her one true love would
return to her. As she once told an old friend: “Even before we met all
those years ago, we were destined to be together in this life, and we
will be together again, because even today we’re connected in a way
that’s very special, and he needs to know about it before one of us
leaves this earth.”
Like Driftwood on the Salish Sea is available at Amazon.
First Chapter:
Seattle, Autumn 2021
Mitch
watched the I-5 traffic stream by like duty-bound ants marching in neat
columns on their way to another conquest. He had wanted to open the
window, covered with many months of dirt and grime, but it would have
taken a half-dozen requisitions and just as many months before the
maintenance department would have tended to it. He didn’t care about
gaining a better view of the endless procession of late afternoon
commuters; he was hoping to get a better view of the sun setting over
the Olympic Mountains from the vantage point of the eleventh floor
doctor’s office downtown.
Whether
it was from an office building or from the decks of a ferry plying the
waters of Puget Sound, it didn’t matter to him. Simply seeing the sun
wash over the evergreens once again eased his anxiety faster than the
strongest pharmaceutical he’d ever been prescribed. And over the course
of the past few years, he’d been prescribed more pills for more reasons
than he cared to count. But he wasn’t concerned about any of that now.
He was focused on finally getting home.
At
times, he questioned the life-altering choices he had made or the ghosts
he had been avoiding for so long. At times, he even wondered why they
had that much power over his better judgement, or if, in the end, he had
avoided them at all.
It
had been many years since he had last visited Seattle. The city seemed
so foreign to him now. The places he enjoyed on his rare visits: a
University District music store he had loved for their extensive
inventory of compact discs, a Pioneer Square sports bar within walking
distance of the football stadium, and a waterfront seafood restaurant he
had listed among his favorite places, were all long gone. Except for
the Space Needle, the skyline was not how he had remembered. A decade or
more of gentrification that had given birth to a collection of
glittering glass-on-steel architectural masterpieces, could only
distantly hide the once-vibrant intersection of First Avenue and Pike
Street. No longer decorated with flower baskets filled with a colorful
bounty, or teaming with hungry buskers distracting eager tourists
heading toward the Pike Place Market, this, as with other downtown
boulevards once bursting with a vibrance representative of all the city
had been known for, now seemed soulless. Empty paper coffee cups danced
across the pavement like tumbleweeds, while lifeless eyes peered from
wind-tattered tents that shared the sidewalks with empty storefronts and
growing mounds of trash. Save for a recollection of a few clandestine
excursions, Mitch no longer had any interest in this place. He wanted to
conclude his business and be on his way back to a world that was also
nothing more than a distant memory: a world filled with blackberry,
apple, and pumpkin pies cooling on windowsills in the warmth of a late
summer morning, the Memorial Day parades led by a high school band, the
volunteer fire department, and a collection of potbellied members from
the local VFW, and the potpourri of Fourth of July barbecues, sack
races, and firework displays lighting up the skies over a Rockwell-esque
Friday Harbor. It was a place he had wrapped around his insecurities as
if it were a goose-down comforter used to keep warm during a
snow-driven winter storm, and it was the place he had avoided. Maybe
going back and facing the ghosts of his past would be more painful and
life-threatening than the physical wounds and emotional scars he’d
sustained during his multiple tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan. Yet
here he was, as if a few more tests and one more opinion might have
produced the silver bullet that would have magically reversed every bad
decision he made over the past twenty years during a self-inflicted
exile.
For the tenth time in as many minutes, he glanced at his watch, then up at the wall clock for confirmation. He’s late again, he
thought before becoming aware of the clock’s relentless ticking and
noticing the long shadows cast upon the opposite wall. To him, those
shadows resembled a life slipping away—a life he felt no more able to
grasp and hold on to no more than he could grab and hold on to any one
of those shadows—and it abruptly reminded him of one of the last times
he saw Alex.
* * *
Iraq 2004
“Is that who I think it is?”
Mitch
reflexively cringed then turned toward the sound of the familiar voice.
“Alex! I mean, Captain,” he quickly corrected himself, in front of the
squad of men in his charge.
“Holy cow, Mitch, what the hell! What brings you to Baghdad?”
“Besides
an all-expense paid luxury vacation, courtesy of Uncle Sam?” He forced a
smile, then dismissed his men before continuing. “My unit was moved
over here in oh-three from Afghanistan…for the invasion. We’ve been
doing a lot of probing for, you know,” he lowered his voice, “retaking
Fallujah. I don’t suppose you have anything to do with planning that,
sir?”
Alex
surveyed his immediate surroundings before responding. “No one’s within
earshot now. Even if they were, you can drop the captain and the sir
nonsense.”
“I’ll take that as a yes…sir.”
“C’mon, Mitch, let’s not do this here.”
“Fair enough, Alex. You were saying.”
“I
pulled a few strings to get some of the best recon units for a little
fun I’ve got planned before we launch the main operation. And yes,” he
winked and attempted a little levity, “I even asked for you.”
“Very
funny. Let it be known that even over here, you’re trying to get me to
do your heavy lifting. When are you ever gonna admit that if it wasn’t
for my size, speed, and blocking ability, you would’ve never scored all
those touchdowns in high school?”
“That was you?” He smirked. “I did pretty well in college without you by the way.”
“Yes, I’ve heard…constantly. No offers from the pros, huh?”
“I had more important business to attend to.” Alex patted his sidearm.
“Yes, I’m well aware of that too.”
“What, you think you’re the only patriot?”
“So, that’s what you call it!”
“Mitch,
please. There’s a lot you need to know. There’s a lot we really need to
discuss. Not here, though. This isn’t the time or the place.”
“I’ll give you that. So, moving right along, when did you get here?”
“I’ve been in country for about two months now.”
Mitch smiled. “That’s hardly enough time to get your utilities dirty.”
Alex
ignored the dig. “Truth be told, it seems like I’ve been here forever.
Anyway, I’ve been here long enough to have that kid over there waiting
to do errands for me every day.” He laughed and pointed to a
ten-year-old Iraqi boy waiting nervously at his tent. “Showed up one day
outta nowhere and now he’s like my shadow. You’ve been up to your neck
in this for how long now?”
“Since
summer of oh-two. Afghanistan and now here. So, who is this kid, like
your food taster or your house boy?” He studied the child with
suspicion.
“Food
taster?” Alex laughed. “He cleans up the tent, does my laundry…provides
a little intel now and then. I pay him in MREs, which I’m sure he sells
on the black market.”
“Smart little guy. Just don’t eat anything he brings you,” Mitch warned. “I don’t trust the locals.”
“You don’t trust anyone, especially me.”
“Well, it’s not as if you didn’t earn it.”
“I guess in your mind, at least until we have a chance to talk, I deserve that.”
“You do, but I’m serious about not trusting the locals, Alex. You never know who’s an insurgent or who’s been compromised.”
“Don’t worry, I checked him out. He’s a good kid.”
“Famous
last words. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Well, anyway, you’re an
intelligence officer, so I guess you know what you’re doing. After all,
you made it through ROTC and all that other fancy training with your
boyish good looks intact. I’ll bet the folks back home are proud of you
as you rise through the ranks like a rocket.”
“Jealous?”
“Not one bit.” Mitch said defensively.
“Keep this to yourself…the real damage is on the inside.” Alex pointed to his head.
“I had heard that about you intel officers.”
“And look at you! Three stripes! That didn’t take you as long as I thought it would, Marine. At the rate you’re going—”
“Not
me, brother. Except for burn-pit duty and having to get all those
booster shots, I was happy just being a grunt. Only now I’ve got
responsibilities like leading a squad on patrols. And on top of
everything, I’ve got these guys who are just a couple years younger than
us calling me ‘Pops,’ of all things.”
“Burn-pit
duty, huh? I didn’t know they gave out Purple Hearts for sucking down
toxic smoke. Does that stuff really get you stoned?”
“I
almost wish it did. Sometimes that stuff made me puke up my guts like
there was no tomorrow. I should’ve gotten those medals for that instead
of playing dodgeball with bullets.”
“Yeah, I’m told everybody heard about that…front page of the paper back home.”
“Didn’t mean to steal your thunder.”
Again, Alex ignored the dig. “Next time you should duck and dodge a little faster.”
“Honestly,
it was nothing. A couple grazed me, is all. Here…” He pointed. “Here,
and over here. It’s no big deal. Anyway, how’d you hear about it?”
“It
was in Jess’s last letter. She included the article. I hear you two
have been corresponding.” Alex said, then looked for a reaction from
Mitch. There was none.
“She
wrote once. It was the first time I had heard from her since…anyway,
she didn’t have much to say other than you were on your way over here.
She asked if I could keep an eye out for you. It was only right that I
respond. I told her I would. Nothing more.”
“That’s all anyone could expect.”
“Uh huh…by the way, how’s your little boy? Mateo, isn’t it? He must be getting big.”
“Like I said, we’ll talk…anyway, Mitch, I had already read up on your exploits.”
“You’ve
been reviewing my personnel file? If I didn’t know any better, Alex,
I’d say you really do have something planned and you’re gonna want me to
carry it out for you.”
* * *
Doctor Lenkovich’s Office
The Present
“Did you hear me, Mitch? Mitch? Master Gunnery Sergeant Brody?”
Startled, Mitch hadn’t heard the doctor enter the room. “Sorry, doc, it’s been a long day…it’s been a long week.”
“Not
a problem.” The doctor took a seat. “When I came in, you were talking
to yourself. Can I ask what you were thinking about?”
“Nothing
really…actually, that’s not true. I was thinking about everything you
guys put me through the past couple months. Not just you or this place,
but you know, all the tests, the paperwork, going through the process. I
was thinking about getting out of here and finally getting back home.”
“How long has it been?”
“Far
too long. I would’ve been there several weeks ago if I hadn’t been
detoured to Bethesda and then Pendleton before ending up here.”
“You
do know it was a suggestion to come here, right? A strong suggestion,
perhaps, but it wasn’t an order. After all, your retirement came through
and you were discharged. Don’t forget, you’re a civilian now, and I
think it’s important for you to get established with a doc. It just
makes sense, considering.”
“I know. Everybody here keeps reminding me. Did I tell you it wasn’t my choice to retire?”
“No, you didn’t. Was separating hard for you?” the doctor asked.
“Nah.
I’ve had more than my share. It was time…I’m just trying to get used to
it…” Mitch trailed off as the wall shadows once again stole his
thoughts.
“Anyway,” Doctor Lenkovich said, “it’s just the corps’ way of taking care of one of its highly decorated heroes.”
“By
forcing me out?” He snapped back as the flip of a light switch washed
away the distraction. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…anyway, I don’t think of
myself as a hero.”
“Forcing
you out? Come on, it’s a medical discharge. What choice did they have?
Anyway, you’ll be happy to know they finally sent the rest of your
medical records. You’d think that after all these years I’d be used to
the red tape and inefficiency that’s inherent…I’m rambling, sorry. All
those tests we ended up duplicating since you arrived here…let’s just
say, in case there was any doubt…well, let’s just think of the whole
thing as one more confirmation. Which is what you wanted, and what you
rightfully deserved. I hope the past week with us hadn’t been an
inconvenience.”
“An
inconvenience?” He chuckled. “From being constantly poked and prodded,
or having the unwanted attention because I’m some highly decorated…?”
“Both. Are you saying you didn’t want all that special attention?”
“Don’t
get me wrong, I appreciated the above-and-beyond from you and the
staff. Even got a couple of names and numbers of some very nice nurses.
Even so, I’ve never been one for medals, parades, accolades, etcetera.
No, not me. That was Alex’s thing. In all honesty, I hate the attention.
It’s embarrassing and it makes me uncomfortable. Especially when so
many others here don’t get half of what they deserve.”
Their eyes locked in an uncomfortable moment of silence.
“Luckily
for you,” Doctor Lenkovich continued while jotting Alex’s name in
Mitch’s chart, “there may be one more parade and then you can pack the
uniforms, the medals, and hopefully the bad memories, and put them all
into mothballs.”
“What?” Mitch looked confused.
“Mothballs…I guess people don’t use those anymore.”
“I know what mothballs are. What parade?” Mitch asked. “Whaddya talking about?”
“Didn’t anyone from your hometown contact you?”
“I
didn’t tell anybody I was coming…well, that’s not totally true. I left a
voicemail for one guy to meet me, but he knows not to say anything to
anyone. So, I’m in the dark here, Doc.”
“Hold
on a sec.” He skimmed through Mitch’s file. “Where’s that note? Here it
is. Someone from the San Juan Island VFW post contacted the Pendleton
base commander right after the news ran a story on you.”
“Recently?”
“Several
weeks back. They mentioned that you were coming home and that you were
being considered for the Congressional Medal. Is that true?”
“It’s news to me.”
“Anyway,
they want to throw you a homecoming parade…wanted to do it the day you
got back there. So, I guess that’s why this guy wanted a heads up on an
exact day. I’ve got a number right here. Do you want to call them?”
“No…no,
I can’t.” He shook his head. “And they can’t do anything if they don’t
know when I’m coming. They don’t know I’m coming, right? You didn’t call
them?”
“Why would I? It’s not my responsibility. Although if you ask me, a welcome home like that might be good for you.”
“It’s
been a long twenty years, Doc, and I’m tired in more ways than one. I
don’t want the attention. And before you ask, I don’t wanna talk about
why, and I don’t wanna talk to the shrink about it. I’ve talked to
enough shrinks. Hell, I don’t even wanna think about it.”
“Understood.”
He continued to flip through the chart, stopping to review one page.
“Mitch, if I may…I’m still curious. I suspect you weren’t thinking about
home just now when I walked in because I overheard some of what you
were saying. The duty nurse told me you had another restless night. You
were talking in your sleep again. What were you really thinking about?
If not home, then what? Who? Your friend?”
“My friend?”
“Alex? You’ve mentioned him a number of times.”
“Who,
Alex? My friend? He wasn’t my…no, I wasn’t thinking about him.”
Remembering the shadows, Mitch stared back at the wall. “Why?”
“Because
I’m told you’ve had conversations with him, with this ‘Alex,’ when
you’re alone, and you’ve yelled out his name in your sleep more than a
few times, and…and I’m told one night it was as if you were trying to
warn him about something. Mitch, I heard you mumble his name just now
when I walked into the room. It’s okay to admit you were thinking about
him.”
“Just
as long as I don’t think he’s sitting right here?” Mitch winked and
smiled at the empty chair next to him to see the doctor’s reaction.
“I
did see that in your file too. It says here you’ve been told PTSD
manifests in many ways. I do know from experience with other patients,
any deep-seated guilt over the death of a friend can make a person
believe the deceased continues to hang around. So, tell me,” the doctor
looked up from the file, “has that been happening? Are you seeing him?
Talking to him? You can tell me.”
“I
was only joking, Doc…no, it hasn’t happened, and it never did happen,
and it’s not happening now, so, I don’t know what the duty nurse thought
she heard. And for the record, I was joking with the doc at Bethesda
too. That was my mistake. She was one of those uptight types. I was only
trying to give her a rise, lighten the mood. I can’t believe she put
that in my chart.”
“A couple of times. I wouldn’t worry about it, though. If you say it didn’t happen—”
“It didn’t!”
“I’ll make a note of that. Okay, moving right along…”
“Yes, let’s. About those last few tests…you said there’s nothing new to report, right?” Mitch asked.
“Do you have anything new to report to me? Headaches the same?”
“No better, no worse.”
“Any more episodes of nausea?”
“Just
the one time this past week. I think it was from the sausages. They
smelled a little funny, now that I think of it. I actually thought I saw
one move. Other than that, the food here is pretty decent.”
“You’re joking, of course, yes?” Lenkovich asked
“About it being pretty decent?”
“Moving on…any confusion? Memory loss?”
“No confusion. However, I do have some memories I’d like to get rid of.”
“Any visual disturbances, slurring of speech, issues with balance or muscle weakness?”
“No, no, no, and no.” Mitch said.
“Okay,
then. The latest tests show everything’s the same: the blood work, the
scans, your sense of humor, no changes…for now, anyway. However, if you
start to notice anything different, like if you actually become funny,
you let me know.”
“So…then…we’re all good, right? We’re all done then.”
“Mitch,
we could do more here, you know? The rate that this thing…it’s
unpredictable. There’s a procedure we can do, it’s relatively new and—”
“I know, Doc, you’ve told me already. I’m not interested, sorry.”
“Look, I can arrange—”
“Thanks,
but I think we’re all done here. Trust me, I’ll continue to take all my
meds as directed, I’ll call when I need refills. I’ll call you if
anything changes, I promise.”
“In
that case, please do me a favor? After you get home, after you get
unpacked and settled in, had some time to yourself, looked up old
friends, I’d like to have you come back here in a couple months and—”
He shook his head. “Not gonna happen. I’m really not interested.”
“Listen Mitch—”
“Please,
Doc, I’m finished listening. It’s nothing against you. You’ve actually
been the most understanding, the easiest person to work with. I just
don’t wanna do any more…I can’t do any more. All my years in the Corps
I’ve had people telling me how to live my life, when to get out of bed,
when to eat, who and how many to kill, I’m finished with all of it. I’ve
got a small farm and a small hardware store waiting for me up on San
Juan Island. For far too long now, I’ve been…I’ve been dreaming about
waking up to a rooster’s cry, frying up bacon and some fresh-laid eggs
in a cast iron skillet for breakfast, and topping off my coffee with
warm milk straight from the teat before heading in to town to help some
poor do-it-yourselfer find an odd sized doohickey for his hot water
heater; all the things I detested growing up, which I’ve been missing
for more days than I can count. I wanna get my hair cut at Freddie’s
barbershop on Spring Street, where old men in suspenders still read
newspapers, smoke cigars, and solve the world’s problems over a game of
checkers.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“Wanna
know what’s really wonderful? Sitting by the big stone fireplace in
Jentzen’s Café on a winter afternoon, drinking Irish coffee with a hunk
of hot beer bread slathered in strawberry jam. And all the while,
breathing in the heavy scent of fresh cut spruce and fir draped all
across the windows as snow flurries dust the sidewalks and people rush
by to get their Christmas packages to the post office before closing
time. Now, that’s wonderful.”
“It sounds like a wonderful life in Bedford Falls.” Doctor Lenkovich quipped in his best George Bailey imitation.
“What?”
“Bedford
Falls? It’s a Wonderful Life? The movie…never mind. It sounds like a
wonderful life, Mitch, and I can see I’ll have a hard time convincing
you to come back here for any follow-ups.”
“I
was away for a long time, a lifetime, and now time is my enemy. So, once
I set foot off that ferry I am not coming back to Seattle.
About the Author:
Richard I
Levine is a native New Yorker raised in the shadows of Yankee Stadium.
After dabbling in several occupations and a one-year coast-to-coast
wanderlust trip, This one-time auxiliary police officer, volunteer
fireman, bartender, and store manager returned to school to become a
chiropractor.
A
twenty-five-year cancer survivor, he’s a strong advocate for the natural
healing arts. In 2006 he wrote, produced, and was on-air personality of
The Dr. Rich Levine Show on Seattle’s KKNW 1150AM and after a
twenty-five-year chiropractic practice in Bellevue, Washington, he
closed up shop at the end of 2016 and moved to Oahu to pursue a dream of
acting and being on Hawaii 5-O.
While
briefly working as a ghostwriter/community liaison for a Honolulu City
Councilmember, a Hawaii State Senator, and volunteering as an advisory
board member of USVETS Barbers Point, he appeared as a background actor
in over twenty-seven 5-Os, Magnum P.I.s, NCIS-Hawaii, and several
Hallmark movies. In 2020, he had a co-star role in the third season
episode of Magnum PI called “Easy Money.”
While he
no longer lives in Hawaii, he says he will always cherish and be
grateful for those seven years and all the wonderful people he’s met.
His 5th novel, To Catch the Setting Sun, was inspired by his time in
Hawaii.
Like Driftwood on the Salish Sea is Levine’s first foray into the romance genre.
Website & Social Media:
Website ➜ http://www.docrichlevine.com
X ➜ https://www.twitter.com/Your_In8_Power
Facebook ➜ https://www.facebook.com/RichardLevineAuthor/
Instagram ➜ https://www.instagram.com/rilevinedc
