I watch the surrounding civilians, moving about the airport seeking their next destination. Street clothes are more common than my uniform, and so many people have flowered leis dangling from their necks. Children are laughing and chasing each other in circles around their parents, and the fresh scent of fruit fills the air. I forgot what it felt like to be here.
“When you return home from battle, no matter what your position, or your responsibilities were, or what it forced you to do, think, and see—it changes you—inside. Some people think you’ve become hardened, and others pity what you experienced. And then there’s the part that you feel. When you peer into a mirror, you may not recognize yourself as the same person you used to be. You may see a look of pain riddled throughout your eyes, or the face of a fading soul reaching out for help. The moments in combat are the memories that scar you deeply. They change who you are, who you were, and who you will be, but if there is anything I have learned over the years, it’s this: for every anguished thought that enters your mind, replace it with the memory of something good you did. You saved so many people, Elizabeth, and that’s what you should focus on.”
“I’m fine, Dad, really.”
“You’re going to say that. You’re going to convince yourself you’re okay, but there are going to be moments when you aren’t, and I need you to know that I am here to listen, and I will always be that person in your life no matter what. I understand you, what you’ve been through, and what you will continue to go through. You never have to feel like you’re alone.”
I want to respond with a quick thank you and move on, but I allow the words to penetrate, knowing he’s right. Over the last day, I lost track of how many spiraling thoughts spun through my head like a tornado, distracting me, exhausting me, and adding confusion to my overwhelmed mind.
“You know, now that I’ve seen the other side, you should know you can always talk to me too,” I tell Dad.
“That’s what best friends do for each other, kiddo. You will always be my little girl, but we share something unique now too.”
“James and Lewis, as well,” I add.
We step out of the airport into the most exquisite Hawaiian glow and I lift my face to the sky to inhale all the sweet aromas I have missed. “It’s good to be home.”
“Elizabeth,” Dad says, tugging my hand so I stop walking. “I know how you feel about feeling equal to your brothers. You have always made it a point to prove your sense of worth to me and them, but there is a difference between you three, and I think it’s important you understand.”
“What’s the difference?” I shrug with a small laugh.
“They trained for combat, Elizabeth. You trained to heal and save the lives of our own. Maybe you don’t think I’m aware of what you accomplished a couple months back, but the news did not come quietly here at home. You stood up to a fear greater than any one of us could comprehend, and without hesitation, saved over twelve dying prisoners from what is being called ‘a death march.’ Your bravery was unfathomable, and while I know you are humble and will probably never mention the subject, what you did will forever make me proud of the woman I raised.”
Am I receiving praise for the death I caused, or the lives I saved? It’s a question I continue to ask myself. That day in the woods will always haunt me because I had to take a life to save one. The world shouldn’t be so ugly that one life has to be chosen over another.
I try to press my lips into a smile, but it hurts too much. Thankfully, Dad understands the look on my face. Rather than focus on what I’m being recognized for, I find our shadows along the curb, recalling a time when mine was so small compared to his. But now, they are nearly identical; I might be shorter and more slender, but our posture, stature, and form of stride are the same.
We are equal.
Dad allows me what I need; quiet moments during the car ride home, with the windows open. I take in the view of the passing seascape, the sun, and clouds in all their glorious buoyancy within the Hawaiian sky. I watch a plane skim the top of a cloud and feel the need to wave, but instead, I smile, wondering if it’s just another plane, or possibly a sign I need to see.
As we turn the corner onto our street, I hold my breath, wondering if Everett’s car will be along the curb. Dad isn’t the type to cause me pain just for the sake of a surprise. I should have assumed he wasn’t making up a story when he said he hasn’t heard from him.
“Whose car is that?” I ask, hoping beyond hope.
“I’ll let your brother tell you,” Dad says.
“What is it?”
“I’ve already said too much, telling you that Audrey has news. Just go on in and find out for yourself. I’ll get your bags.”
The house smells just how I left it. Everything is clean, not a crooked picture frame in sight. I can’t say I imagined the house would look so neat but it’s comforting to come home to.
I appreciate that no one lunges at me as I walk in the door. Instead, warm hugs, kisses on the head, and the feeling of so much love welcomes me home. James and Lewis each want to show their affection more than the other, and I feel them elbowing each other behind my back.
“You already got to see her once. It’s my turn,” James says, squeezing me within his arms as he lifts me up and spins me in a circle before placing me down in front of a familiar face.
“Lokelani,” I greet her. “You’re still here—with James?” I take a moment to comprehend the meaning, and the fact that she’s here in my house almost four years after I saw her that one time.
She’s also pregnant and there’s a ring on her finger. I spin around, looking for James’s expression, and I find one more perfect than I could ever wish for him. He’s beaming.
“I wanted to wait for you, kiddo.”
“Well, to be fair, I was gone a long time,” I offer as a good reason not to wait for me.
“We eloped when I returned home six months ago. It was small and just the two of us. You know I don’t like to make a big deal out of anything.”
“Of course,” I tell him. Though it pains me to think I missed out on something big in James’s life, I can’t blame him for taking the first opportunity he had to make his life feel normal and happy after this war.
