Wawaka, Indiana. 1970.
Tobias O'Leary, or Toby as his friends liked to call him, was ashamed to be alive.
Well, maybe that was a little harsh, but he thought about this often as he drove around the lake that dominated the small community in northern Indiana. Small, isolated, forgotten - you rarely saw any young couples here. The place was chalk full of retired families, but there were several very young families living on the south shore of the lake.
Did Toby care about any of these things? No, not necessarily - but you tended to notice these things when you drive in circles around a lake so much that you could brand the trees around with names and remember each and every one of them.
Most of the Wawakans see his car drift by once a day, and often think to themselves What is wrong with that man - running away from a war like he did? Shame on him!
Whether or not they were really thinking these things, Toby could only guess. Some would say that God would know, and tell him not to worry about it - that was all anyone would tell him nowadays. Don't worry about it. Everything will be fine.
Everything was not fine, however. Not in the remotest sense. No exceptions, no buts, no technicalities. Nothing had been fine since that cursed war. The war that had literally ruined his life inside and out.
Vietnam.
When most people think about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, they imagine energetic flashbacks of explosions and screaming people or whatever, and that may be true for some - but for Toby, he was convinced that it was all wrong. It was not often that he saw explosions, but when he did, it involved a friend or fellow American - someone he felt connected with.
Before the war, everything had been perfectly fine - Toby had been fresh out of Middlebury High School, not far from where he lived, ready to face the opportunity and blessings life had given him. He was second in his GPA, behind only the valedictorian - his best friend, Carter McGlaggen.
The two of them were unstoppable when it came to smarts - Toby could remember his father's face one day when he came home with a box full of medals and honors from all sorts of academic competitions - the Regional Spelling Bee, the school's Geography Bee, the Math and Science Bowls... the box had to have weighed at least thirty pounds. The pride his parents expressed in him that day made him feel more elated than he would have felt if he had owned the world.
That was three years ago. Three long, excruciating, tormenting, hot, insufferable years.
Toby and Carter - the dynamic duo, able to solve any issue or question thrown at them, awaiting their promised scholarships to Oxford... thrown into the war before any sort of second opinion could be made. And, thus, their futures were dumpster-fired.
Toby could remember the day when they came to see him - was a Wednesday? Or a Thursday? It didn't matter, at any rate - he had been relaxing, enjoying the pleasant anticipation of receiving the reply from Oxford, which was due later that week.
He could remember the soft ding that resonated from the happy little bell over the parlor door, and he remembered lazily looking over to see who the newcomers were.
Army Recruitment Officers - two of them. He smirked bitterly at the memory. He had thought he was safe from the stupid war, with his promised attendance to Oxford and all of that good stuff. He recalled the moment of hesitation when the officers scanned the room and caught his eye. They made a beeline for him, and took a seat in the booth seat across from him without invitation.
One long and painful argument later, he found himself packing his bags and heading to California - good 'ol Cali. From there he was told that he would be sent to the naval base in the Philippine Islands.
His head was shaved. His normal, comfortable, everyday clothes were shunted off to Salvation Army. He was given a rough camouflaged rucksack and sent to said naval base without further ado.
How long had be been given time to say goodbye to his parents? An hour? Was it even normal for Recruitment Officers to act that hastily?
It didn't matter, even if he had a say in any of it. 'It was for the greater good for the safety of capitalism', they had told him. 'The communists are fighting harder than ever, and we have to fight back'. Something about stopping 'the great wave of evil that threatened to encompass the world'.
Blah, blah, blah. He just wanted to go to Oxford - somewhere where he could have a future. All his dreams rested on whether or not he was able to attend.
Well, all except one - Marietta Blue. His his high school flair.
She was an angel - golden brown hair flowing down her pretty, thin face in curls that fell to her shoulder. Freckles lined the bridge of her nose - not heavily, but just enough for it to create a subtle starry effect on her face. Her eyes were a vivid green, a hue that you could maybe find on the leaves of a lavender plant - her favorite flower. His favorite flower.
He could remember the night they got together - it was such a wondrous night. It seemed to come straight out of one of those cheesy romance flicks you'd see at the town cinema.
Toby softly pressed on the brakes and let his Chevrolet Corvair roll into a drive-in diner that sat on the edge of the west shore, suspended on a cute little pier that was painted white. A dimmed neon sign that spelled Mamma Martha's sat above the diner's kitchen.
As he rolled into an open spot, Toby rolled down the driver's window and pulled his Corvair to a complete stop. He absentmindedly jammed his finger on the menu button and waited, sinking back into his own bitter memories.
Where had he been again? Oh, right - Marietta. His baby girl.
Just before he was carted off to 'Nam, he and Marietta had spent a nice, quiet evening under a tree near the center of town. He could remember the worry in her cute brown eyes as she rolled over on the grass to meet his eyes as the sun began to dive behind the horizon, washing the Indiana sky with beautiful hues of all sorts. God sure had done a good job there.
"Tobes," she had said, smiling ever so slightly. "Do come back in one piece, ya hear me?"
Toby laughed hollowly at her gallows sense of humor. "Darling, I can't guarantee you anything - heck, I don't even know what those darned officers will assign me to in the Philippines - but what I can assure you of is that I'll try."
He could remember Marietta's smile after he said that - small, but slanted in the corners. It was so dang cute.
"Tobes, just remember in those awful jungles," Marietta said, trying to keep a calm tone to her voice. "I will always love you. Always, Tobes, ya hear me?"
Always indeed... he should have never trusted that back-stabbing whore.
"Hey! You there?" crackled a disgruntled voice from the loudspeakers on the menu board, snapping Toby out of his reverie.
"Yeah," Toby grunted in reply, thumbing the speaker button once more.
"Copy that," the kid on the other side quipped. "I take it you'll have the number four tray again?"
"How did you know who I am?" Toby asked wearily.
"It's kinda hard not to know who you are; you come 'round every day," the kid replied. "Damn, that war must of gave you an unquenchable desire for our burgers... it'll be a couple minutes."
The speakerphone fell into silence, and Toby slumped back into his seat. Jerk... the stupid kid would probably never know what it was like to be on a night patrol in 'Nam.
"Here's your number four, sir," a voice said, and Toby stuck his head through the window to see a weedy teenager standing there, clutching his tray. He paid the kid and settled back into his seat. What the kid had said earlier was true. He had definitely come by this place every day at twelve fifteen for lunch, and always got the same thing.
It was all part of the routine. The same thing, every day, all day. Tonight he'd bunker at his folk's place again, just like he had every day since he learned Marietta was done with him.
It just wasn't fair - he had already gone to rot in the head because of the horrors in Vietnam, but that really put the cherry on top.
He remembered showing up at her front door three days after he had returned back to Wawaka - she hadn't answered the phone at all for the first few days. No one answered. Two days later, he found her; - pretty as ever, with the same old smile that he had dreamed about every night since he left her.
He had gone out to the local bar to decompress a little, and that's when he saw her. He remembered the lurch in his gut as well as the smile that formed quickly on his face as he began to make his way toward her.
She was sitting at the corner of the counter, talking animatedly to someone hidden by a large man. Then the large man moved, and there was another man there. He's just a friend, he had thought. Time to bring back that good 'ol O'Leary charm.
Then the pair kissed. Not your normal, romantic smooch - it was a deep, throaty kiss, one where tongue was clearly exchanged. Toby remembered watching the man's hand slide slowly down Marietta's side, and left without a word. Everything made sense, then - the ignored phone calls, the rare, terse letters he had received in 'Nam - it was crystal clear at that very moment to him.
He was not loved. He was not appreciated. No one cared.
Sure, his parents were there - sorta. They had been some of his favorite people before Vietnam. They raised him well, excited by his interest in academic success. Excited by the path he was taking. More proud of him then he could ever imagine.
Then the war happened.
It seemed to deflate them as the officers told them the news. Toby remembered his parents giving him a look that said, How could you?? It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his decision. When they found out why their son had returned from the war early, they were even more disappointed.
Now, every time he looked one of his parents in the eye - which was rare nowadays, since they ignored him so much. It was clear that their pride and joy had become a pawn - nearly worthless, disappointing. Or, at least, those were the vibes he received.
All of this happened two weeks prior to the current moment - the fourth day he had been home.
Toby stared blankly at the sparkling surface of the lake, basking in the afternoon sun. They had called the lake 'Diamond Lake' because the surface of the water appeared to be full of them. Why this mattered, he didn't know. Just a stray thought.
He took a bite out of his double cheeseburger. All of his friends had either died in 'Nam or been married - the latter living God knows where. They didn't care. They didn't need him anymore... they had new struggles of their own.
With every bite of his burger, he felt a new surge of loneliness washing over him, creating a tight knot of misery in his chest.
Finishing up his lonely meal, he revved up the Corvair and began his drive around the lake again. He left the window down, for this day in particular was very humid. More humid than your average Indiana day, anyway. He sighed as the breeze washed over him, and wished that he could be more than just a shame on the family.
Why was he calling himself a shameful presence? Well, that was easy - but perhaps a little more background wouldn't hurt.
To make things short and simple as well as keep the horrors of 'Nam to a minimum, let's just say that he was on yet another night patrol. Doesn't sound too bad - unless you were actually on one before, in which case you would already understand.
The scariest part of 'Nam had to have been those night patrols. The jungle pressed in on you from all sides, and occasionally you would hallucinate with anxiety. You would see strange things that weren't actually there. You would sense the snipers that may or may not actually be there. That was to put it simply...
The tension was too much for him one day - so he shot himself in the foot. A quick and easy way to leave the war. Maybe not a guaranteed way to exit the war, but it was certainly a way.
Had he known what he would come back to, perhaps he would have stayed. Perhaps he would have rather have died in Vietnam instead of facing his parent's disappointment. He would definitely have preferred to die rather than seeing Marietta leave him without a word...
The stupid woman apparently caught wind that he was back and knew about her new love. She tried to reach out to him, tried to 'sympathize' with him - like he would let her. He didn't associate with traitors in love. Heck, she was still trying to reach him, but he wouldn't let her. No one at home would tell her where he was - they probably didn't care, as long as he was still alive. They wouldn't want their son's suicide on their own consciousness.
As he drove over a bump, he heard the bible that he had always kept in the passenger's seat flop over. He frowned slightly, feeling many bitter emotions towards that wretched book. What had it ever done for him? How could a book fix anything?
He had forgotten God completely - and he did it with his own reasons. How could something that was so - so "loving" let something like Vietnam happen? Why didn't He stop Harry Goldschmidt from falling into a pit of punji sticks? Why didn't He prevent Carter from getting thrown into a tree full of sharp cords? Why did He let Marietta leave him? Why did He spare Toby O'Leary, now as good as worthless, from the horrors of the Vietcong?
Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing.
Toby turned around another bend, and felt his eyes sting with tears. If everything happened a month ago, why was he still alive? How was he supposed to cope with his own head when no one was willing to help him?
You're not, said a voice in the back of his head. Don't blame God for everything that happened. That was all your fault, and you know it.
Toby pulled his Corvair to the side of the road and drove twenty feet into the trees. His tires sank into the tepid mud, and he smiled with satisfaction. He grabbed his bible and got out of the car. Before he could shut the door, the telephone in his car rang.
He froze. It couldn't be Marietta - she didn't know this number. It was probably his parents... they didn't call him often, but when they did it was for mundane matters.
He leaned over the driver's seat and picked up the phone. "Yes?" he asked in a weary voice.
"Toby? Is that you??" asked the voice of Marietta Blue. Toby dropped the bible onto the driver's seat and slowly dragged a hand down his face.
"How did you get this number?" he asked, and he could practically feel the retarded girl on the other end cringe.
"Y-Your parents gave it to me," she replied shakily. "Look, I need to talk to you -"
"- And tell me that you have a new guy, how you're done with me, and lie to me about feeling sorry," Toby deadpanned. "You don't need to apologize because, like I said earlier, you're not sorry."
"Toby, I know you're feeling alone and hurt that I've found someone else, but w-we can still be -"
"Stop acting like you still care," he said bitterly, clenching the phone tightly in his fist. "You said that you'd be waiting for me to return so we could be forever happy with one another. You lied. Goodbye."
"Toby - Toby!" sobbed Marietta from the other end. "Don't hang up - please! I'm serious! I wanna help!"
"Don't call this number again," Toby said in a strangely calm tone. "Ever. Because no one will answer." He half-slammed the phone back into its holster, then sighed. The conversation, however, stiffened his resolve.
He grabbed his bible and slammed the car door shut. Finding some broken branches and stray leaves, he set to work on hiding his car. When that was complete, he turned and began to troop through the mud until he found a strong looking tree. From there he began to climb - just him and his bible.
The climb took time, but he didn't care. He was in no rush to get to where he wanted to be.
As he reached the highest sturdy branch, he sat upon it and looked down. From here he could see a small section of the lakeside road at the place he turned off of. Hopefully the path he had carved into the undergrowth wouldn't give him away... as if anyone would look.
He teetered on the edge of the branch, then looked down at his bible. He kissed it, then heaved it as far as he could. He watched its downward arc as it traveled towards the mud some one hundred feet away. He looked at the sky and closed his eyes.
Forgive me, he thought sadly.
He opened his eyes and scanned the branches below. If he could hit every single one on the way down... but something caught his eye to the far right - something at the road. Looking over, he saw a bright red Volkswagen roar past the area where he had driven his car into the forest.
It was Marietta's car... the idiot came looking for him. He had to do it soon, or else he'd never be able to.
There was a loud screech from the direction Marietta went. Then, slowly, the red Volkswagen rolled back into view. Then she got out.
Seeing her in his memory was one thing, but seeing her with his own eyes was something else completely. His chest filled with painful, pure spite at the side of her. Even if she really did care, he couldn't bare to see her with... well, it didn't matter. He was going to emotionally hit this backstabbing slut right where it hurt.
The small figure of Marietta had climbed out of her car, and started to squint into the wide path Toby's Corvair had carved.
Now or never, Toby.
Toby grit his teeth, rocked back and forth nervously, then let himself slip off the branch.