Baby Please Don't Go

It was the first trip they had taken together since Jack had left for Afghanistan. During his tours, Emmy remained faithful to him, as she’d promised. She was less than pleased when he told her he’d enlisted because they were just beginning to enjoy life as a couple. She had finished her year-long college course in Medical Reception and Jack had breezed through his computer tech training and apprenticeship.

“What the fuck?” was her immediate reaction when he told her. “Where did this come from? You don’t give a shit about Afghanistan or Iraq or anywhere beyond this city. And you aren’t interested in politics or history. Why?” she pleaded.

Jack knew it was going to be a hard sell. He knew how angry she’d be and he knew she had every right to feel exactly as she was now indicating she felt.

“You didn’t even think to consider me in this decision? Like I’m some bit on the side, some babe you were just stringing along for good times? Fucking unbelievable,” Emmy nearly spat at him. “I thought we were about to go to the next step in our relationship and you’re…what’s the expression…’shipping out’?”

“Em,” Jack tried to interrupt and explain, “please just…”

“Shitting out, more like,” she said. “Like…like how…? You know what? Never mind.”

“Em, give me a chance, please? I have a good reason. Honestly. Please just listen.”

And, as Emmy sat in a fog of disgust, disbelief and exhaustion, Jack explained that he wanted to learn more about computers than any course he could find online could teach him. Computer vision in the defense industry intrigued him, and the military could give him just that sort of training and a guaranteed future in an ever-growing field. And, if he stuck with the military, he’d rise in the ranks, and their future would be secure.

“Honestly, Em. I know it’s out of left field, but this is something I know will be fantastic for both of us. This is how I want to move to the next phase of our relationship. I can’t afford to get this training any other way. Can you at least try to understand?”

“Really.” Emmy was beginning to crack slightly around the edges of her stone cold expression, though she wasn’t completely buying his rationale. “So, you’re leaving me to get training, and possibly killed or paralyzed or maimed for OUR future happiness?”

“Not quite how I’d put it but, I guess, yes,” Jack agreed.

“And where does this leave me now, working in some lame office, alone every night, while lover boy is off fighting for some stupid cause no one even understands?”

“Well,” Jack began, “I was hoping you’d be filling your spare time with all the arrangements.”

“What arrangements? Your funeral arrangements when you come home in a box? You can get your mom to do those.” Angry though she was, she felt herself tearing up at the thought.

“No, the other arrangements.”

Before Emmy could ask “What other arrangements?” Jack dropped to one knee. When the penny dropped, Emmy regained her usual rapidity of wit, “OK, Colin Kaepernick. I don’t hear no national anthem.”

“Emmy, I love you, I need you, you are my world, and I want to share my entire world with you forever.”

“By up and leaving me?” But she was smiling. “So, what song do you want for our first dance, soldier boy?”

Jack served his tours. He returned. They married, surprising their guests with their choice of song for the first dance. It was their secret, their intimate recollection of Jack’s proposal. They enjoyed the bemused looks that surrounded them as the first strains of Muddy Waters’ “Baby Please Don’t Go” filled the room. It was the most exhilarating dance, each of them laughing at the choice and the memory. It was their perfect moment in time.

After a honeymoon in Cancun, the new military family settled at CFB Trenton in Ontario, not far from where Jack had been raised. Sergeant Jack Whitelaw landed a plum position on base in computer-assisted training exercises, while Emmy Whitelaw found a part-time job filling in at a small family doctor’s office. She was truly content, enjoying her leisure hours settling in and decorating their new quarters, rummaging through local thrift shops and generally getting to know the area.

“I thought I’d miss my family more,” Emmy said at dinner one evening. “I almost feel guilty that I don’t.”

Jack mulled the thought a moment, then said, “It’s the newness of everything, keeping your thoughts engrossed in the present. I suspect when holidays start rolling in on us, you’ll steamroll over me to get back to your parents and sibbies.”

“Or they could come here, and we could entertain…maybe Christmas Day?” Emmy looked hopeful.

“Maybe,” Jack hedged. “Let’s see how things go before making commitments so far in advance.”

“OK, Sarge.”

A few weeks into autumn, Jack had a day off and Emmy switched shifts with a co-worker. Jack wanted to do an overnight camping trip to one of his old haunts, a place he and his friends had discovered years ago, somewhat off the beaten track of the usual swimming areas along the Trent River.

“Camping? In the woods?” Emmy was less than enthusiastic. “That’s not really my thing, Jack.”

“But,” Jack countered, “I want you to see part of my life that was very important to me growing up and, whether you believe me or not, I’m guessing you’ll really enjoy it. And the weather is supposed to be perfect – sunny and dry, 17 degrees overnight. And,” he wheedled, “only one night, I promise, unless you love it so much you want to stay longer.”

It might be fun, Emmy thought. It might not but…it might. And it was so important to Jack and, yes, she did want to learn more about this wonderful man she’d married.

“Sure,” she said finally. “I’m game.”

Around noon that Friday, they packed the car with tent, camping gear, food, beer and wine, and the most important ingredients: the S’mores lineup. Jack couldn’t believe Emmy had never tasted a proper S’mores, heated over a campfire. Emmy couldn’t believe he knew that little about her. She had thought she was an open book. Maybe that page was missing.

It was a beautiful fall day, the leaves just starting to turn, and Emmy grew more enthused the farther they got out of town and into the countryside where the trees blew gently in the breeze a bit like gaudy burlesque fans.

They drove for about an hour, in companionable silence, both engrossed in the scenery and just being them.

Jack couldn’t wait to share this secret remnant from his past. It was an idyllic spot. There were rocks just under the water and, when the river was running fast, it would swirl around them, creating a wave effect ideal for diving practice. There were plenty of fish that would brush past ankles, sometimes nibble a toe or two. Jack had warned Emmy about them, though he wisely didn’t mention the leeches.

Once the yawning forest had enveloped the blue Kia, Jack was right back at home. A short drive through the twisting lane and archway of trees, and there it was; a tad overgrown, which he hoped meant it had been left relatively alone, hidden from regular campers.

As soon as Jack parked the car, Emmy jumped out and raced toward the river. “It’s perfect,” Jack said, as he joined her. “It hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Over there we used that rock as our canoe, pretending we were Jacques Cartier and his men exploring. There’s a really deep drop from the bottom just on the other side of that rock. It’s a bit of a shock if you aren’t expecting it, but it’s fun.”

“Let’s go in now, “Emmy suggested, already pulling off her t-shirt, and unbuttoning her shorts, under which she was wearing the barely-there bikini Jack had so enjoyed in Cancun.

“I think we should set up the tent and get organized first,” Jack replied, but the look on Emmy’s face was more than he could have anticipated. She seemed to love the spot already. Now they could make his place their place.

“OK, let’s go in, but put those beach slippers on your feet. The bottom can be squishy and there’s the odd sharp thing.”

Emmy raced to the car and got out the slippers and two towels. Jack had left his trunks in the car so, as he went back to change, Emmy picked her way carefully through sludge along the river bank.

“Oh my God, Jack, it’s freezing.”

“Of course it is. This ain’t Cancun, baby. This is Canada in the raw.”

As her body adjusted to the temperature, she found the water deep enough to swim out into the center and almost to the opposite bank. She did continuous breast-stroke circles, slicing thin strips into the clear water, so translucent she could see fish swimming in and around her legs. When she felt some toe nibbles, she immediately screamed, then burst out laughing. Looking back to shore to check on Jack, she decided to swim underwater for a better look at its inhabitants. She swam along the river bottom, sometimes pulling herself with her hands in the fine silt.

Tired of waiting for Jack, Emmy emerged from the depths and yelled, “Jack, where the hell are you? If this is just some convoluted plan to dump me in the river and take off, it ain’t funny. I’m not biting, though some of the fish are.”

It was so much warmer under the water, and she found she could just stand on the bottom on tiptoe if she stuck to the middle. “Great for the quads,” she thought to herself, as she pulled herself along.

She still couldn’t see Jack. The Kia door was open, so he was likely fumbling about looking for something…a snorkel maybe? That would be very Jack. He was so unorganized. Given his personal habits at home, she couldn’t imagine how he managed such a detail-oriented job at the base, especially one wherein accuracy was critical.

As she dove under the water again, a shadow passed above her head. Emmy thought how glorious it felt to be seeing a cloud the way water creatures see it. But, as she came up for air. she realized it was more of a storm cloud than a fluffy white cumulus.

Then, in an instant, the sky went – if it were in any way possible – slack. It seemed all the life and vibrancy had been sapped from it. She looked back across the bank to where she’d climbed into the water from the rock, but couldn’t see it. In fact, nothing looked at all familiar. Where once there were two large rocks, now there were none.

She must be too far upstream, she decided and, so, turned back toward her starting point, half-walking, half-swimming.

The sky was making no effort to clear. If anything, it was darker, and Emmy thought it best to get out of the water before something big hit. She finally saw the second rock and began making her way towards it.

She looked toward the Kia and didn’t see it. Why would he have moved it? A benign assortment of reasons played across her mind: Maybe some official had discouraged him from camping there; or maybe there was just no parking? Maybe he wanted to situate the car upwind from the fire they’d have later? She hoped it wasn’t too far away. She was starting to get hungry.

As she neared the rock, she suddenly felt the river bottom change texture. She didn’t remember that on her way out. But then she thought she felt it move. Fish? Fish, no doubt.

Where the hell was Jack? She wanted him to bring her towel to her when she got out of the water.

“Jack! Jack! Jackson Whitelaw, bring me my bloody towel. NOW, MISTER!”

There was no answer, but there was indeed some churning beneath her feet. As she looked down to try to make out the cause, she realized the water was no longer clear. Surely she hadn’t displaced that much silt or mud on her trek midstream.

As she attempted to puzzle her way through this development, she suddenly felt an eerie chill as if the sky had put a dark black greatcoat over itself. This was odd, and not just a little offputting. No sooner had she thought that than the water around her began to churn in similar fashion to the ground below. It seemed to be frothing. It seemed to be seething.

She screamed at it to stop, then yelled at the top of her lungs, “JACK, PLEASE COME GET ME!”

When he didn’t, she made a mental note of where the rock was, closed her eyes in a vain attempt to forget the insanity happening around her, and headed toward it.

Emmy didn’t even have to open her eyes to know that the water was churning up sludge from the river bottom. Where once she had stood in crystal clear water, she was now in a cesspool of mud.

She pushed herself out of the water with every bit of energy left in her, and pulled herself up onto the rock. It had become slippery and she was having a hard time balancing herself.

Again, she screamed, “Jack!” She was crying now. Nothing made any sense. “PLEASE JACK, PLEASE COME GET ME!”

And then she felt him. At least she felt his presence. Surely he was near and he bloody well had better have a good explanation for all of this. Did he set this up and think it was funny? It was unforgivable.

She knew he was somewhere very close. She tried unsuccessfully to see where he might have moved the car. Nothing. She looked for the clothes she had thrown off in her rush to get to the water, but they, too, were gone. He’d likely put them in the car.

Suddenly, in what seemed a whisper, she heard, “Em.” Then a bit louder, “Em!”

“Jack? Geez, this isn’t funny.”

She looked all around the rock, but didn’t see him. He was probably popping up and down in between ‘Em’s as he’d done in the waves with her in Cancun.

She lay on her stomach, gripping the rock with her calf muscles, and put her hands into the water, upset and intent on making him stop.

“EM!”

This time her name seemed to emanate from the churning muddy water she’d just exited.

No way. He couldn’t be in that, the idiot.

She reorganized her rock-balancing form and reached her right arm as far and deep into the sludge as she could. Nothing. She tried the left. Nothing. With the most herculean effort she had ever mustered, she pulled her stomach over the edge of the rock and plunged both arms under the murky liquid

…and she felt it. She felt something fuzzy and hard and cold. And round.

She gasped and jerked her arms back, now totally at a loss and bone-chillingly scared.

As she was summoning her nerve to put just her hands into the water, Emmy saw it, mere millimeters below the surface.

She stopped breathing, yet felt the seconds ticking by in her ringing ears. Her face was pricklingly hot and her heart had leapt into her throat.

Surely her eyes were playing tricks on her because of the sudden change in weather?

Desperately trying to believe that explanation, Emmy put her hands into the water and cleared the ripples away, squinting her eyes to make out the details.

An ungodly scream shook the trees and the bushes and, for a moment, parted the clouds as Emmy looked up from the eyes that had just met hers.

Jack. It was Jack. She stared into his open eyes. They were cold and unblinking. There was a deep scratch on his forehead. He must have hit his head and lost consciousness.

Crying, screaming, praying to any saint or god who may hear her, she tried to pull him from the river. As she managed to get her right arm under his left shoulder, she stopped and froze.

His hair was buzzed, military issue. And he was clearly in a Private’s uniform.

No, she thought frantically, desperately willing herself to wake up from this terrible nightmare. No, Jack was a Sergeant and his hair hadn’t been buzzed for years.

She was in shock and disbelief. She was sick. She turned and vomited until nothing but stale air remained.

“Jack,” she whispered, his name catching in her dry throat.

A brief glint of light drew her attention to his forehead, just above his right eye where she’d thought she’d seen a scratch. Now, as her stomach churned and the world she had known stopped, she realized it was a bullet wound.

Day became night and night day. Suns blazed where hurricanes swirled. Reality overlapped phantasmagoria. Emmy searched herself to the deepest recesses of her memory and cellular recall.

Had it been only deep beneath truth and far beyond lie they had been living?

She hugged him to her, this Jack she had last seen before he shipped out. This Jack she had waited for and wanted nothing more than to marry.

And Jack had waited for her. He had brought her here to him.

She could hear him now, “Emmy, I love you, I need you, you are my world, and I want to share my entire world with you forever.”

“Me too, my love,” Emmy whispered to the cold face she was cradling. “Me, too.”

Emmy released her hold on the rock, enfolded Jack in her arms and, there they drifted, as the muddy waters churned in rhythmic whorls to “Baby Please Don’t Go.”