Closing the Divide
On a darkened dock, it is time to demob, time to go back to his native land.
At six foot-two, he stands, at arm’s length, in his American G.I dress suit, his bow tie at a slant caused by the jitter-bugging in the mess hall. And one by one, stars pierce the twilight water-coloured sky.
He had never said it, although she wished he had. He had not asked, although she hoped he would.
‘I guess this is goodbye Brian,’ she says slow and stilted, stretching out her hand.
She feels him press something round and warm into her net-gloved palm.
‘I know it aint gonna fit, but we sure as hell do.’ he says, his body shaking slightly.
She looks down at the brass curtain ring and her eyes pool with emotion.
And he, stepping forward, breathing hard, crushing her into his three-star pipped chest, lifts her from blue satin stiletto shoes, and murmurs, ‘Iris, I will never let you go.’
For Christie. Brodheadsville, Pennsylvania.