Long Distance

I was reading this, and went back to a point in my life where I was afraid to call home.  I was glad I never had to go to a relatively communal room to call home - instead, I worked in a place that had better connectivity than almost any other.  But I only called when everyone else was gone.

Years ago I tried keeping a relationship alive over great distance. I remember how things that had seemed certain became vague, unrecognizable. The vacuum of silence, how easily it was filled by my imagination and never with good things. But when I hung up that phone, slick with the grease of many other hands, many ears, my fighting was finished.

“Are you serious? Why don’t you fucking listen to me? I can’t believe this shit.”

Mostly, the soldiers hold their voices low, though sometimes they shout in rage and helplessness.  Some nights I hear lives disintegrating. The heartbreak is very near. If it is bad and loud, if a soldier is screaming at his wife, others in the room will lift their heads for a moment, then fall back into their emails.