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Show i Brian was held in the brig for a month. He wrote that I shouldn't say anything intimate in my missives to him, nor send any photographs because the guards had a field day with anything personal. When he was released, he was put through a rigorous retraining session. Three weeks l a t e r he telephoned to tell me that he would be leaving for Vietnam the next morning. "Oh, Brian, i s n ' t there anything you can do?" Somehow , the ache for him had diminished. AI had worn one of his s h i r t s, suffused to keep his scent with me u n t i l i t became A with my own odor. My need for him had faded similarly, overpowered by the needs of the baby. A strong and imperturbable s p i r i t seemed to take root within me.ae the baby gi"®w. Brian's voice was b i t t e r and unyielding, as though he blamed me for forcing the decision, for allowing him to return. "There's nothing to be done. They've got me now. They let me. out early because I signed an agreement to leave for my Vietnam tour right away." "You mean you could have stayed in j a i l ? Oh, Brian, go back to j a i l ! I t ' s so much b e t t e r than k i l l i n g -- or being killed."' I thought of my father spending six months in prison to sustain his b e l i e f s , and another t h i r t y days on death row because he i n s i s t e d on l i v i n g with a l l of his families. "Go back to j a i l ? " Brian's voice was rough, angry. "No way. I'll never be j a i l e d again. I ' l l die f i r s t ." And so he l e f t in June, before my birthday, when l i l a c s burst °n the trees outside my bedroom window and the f i r s t primroses were opening. He went to Okinawa and sent pictures. Then he was shipped to Vietnam and I began my daily r i t u a l of watching |
