Seer

Natalie

Timothy is unhappy. I feel the sadness and worry rolling off of him, even while he is focusing on our science lesson in class. This is usually his favorite part of the week, but he is too worried to enjoy it today. Today is the day that his Dad’s ship gets home. He’s been gone for six months. I wish that Timothy was excited, but he’s mostly just worried that with his Dad home things around his house won’t be so peaceful any more. When it is just Timothy and his Mom, things seem very simple. Timothy and I spend a lot of time together, and his Mom is very nice and helps us with our experiments and stuff. But when his Dad is home, I don’t go over there as much. I know that Timothy loves his Dad, but he never feels like his Dad is very happy with him. His Dad always wants to do stuff that Timothy doesn’t really like, sports and riding bikes and stuff. Timothy is not athletic at all. So he’s nervous about this starting when he gets home today.

But the other thing that is bothering him is even worse. The Jonathan Project really seems to be an epic fail. For a while I could tell that Jonathan was getting nicer, and we were able to play together, and even have fun together. But then it was like Jonathan missed being awful, and he has gotten even worse. He was mean to me all weekend, and even mean to Gabe. When I tried to touch his hand, or smile at him, or even a couple of times asked him to stop what he was doing, he just laughed and ignored me. Angel hasn’t been very much help. When we first started the project, Angel was able to tell me what Jonathan was thinking, if he started planning to do something mean, so I could stop it. But Angel says that it is happening all the time now, so I should just expect it. Angel isn’t happy about me still trying.

But I really don’t want to give up. I don’t know why Jonathan has gotten so terrible again. Today I tried to go over and talk to him and Gabe at lunch, just for a couple of minutes while Timothy was finishing his sandwich. I thought that it would be all right to just go say Hi for a minute. I didn’t think that it would bother Timothy. But then Jonathan ended up following me back over and telling Timothy that he’s a weirdo, which made me feel worse than ever. I don’t know what to do.

Angel watches me, listening to me think, his eyes looking very sad. I think to him, “Is Guardian doing everything he can to help? Timothy feels so sad, so can Guardian try to share happier feelings?”

Angel says, “Of course, my dearest, Guardian has been constantly communicating to Timothy, and the feeling of calm that he is receiving from this is probably the only thing keeping him from becoming overwhelmed and needing to leave the classroom.”

Oh. Last year Timothy used to do that a lot, when he got too upset in class. He’s gotten special permission to go to the office and calm down when he needs to. But he hasn’t had to do it in second grade so far, and I’m extra sad to hear that he is close to needing to again.

I reach over and touch his shoulder. He looks at me, and I nod at him, telling him with my eyes that we are all here with him, helping him. Me and Angel and Guardian. Timothy nods back. He knows. He still feels unhappy though.

Laura

There he is. I see Michael coming towards me, after waiting here with all the other families at the Navy pier. I’d walk towards him, but it’s too crowded, so all I can do is smile and wave as he makes his way through all the other people. When he gets to me, he drops his bag and pulls me in for a hug. Ah, this feels so good. I’ve missed being in his arms so much. He holds me for a long time, all the other people and activity melting away. He clutches me tightly, almost desperately.

When he finally releases me, I reach up for a kiss, but after a brief peck he leans down to pick up his bag. “It’s good to see you, Laura,” he says, his voice filled with an unusual strain.

I look at him more carefully. He looks very tired. His hair is clipped as short as it always is while on board, and he’s clean shaven, but somehow he looks, I don’t know, haggard. He even seems thinner. Wow. I know this deployment has been awful. His ship was actually involved in Operation Enduring Freedom, the military action that happened after the September 11 attacks. I don’t know any of the details, since I don’t think he’s allowed to talk about it, and he certainly hasn’t put anything in his infrequent letters. But I can see that it has really taken its toll on him. My heart melts with compassion for him.

“Come on, Mike, let’s go home. You look like you could use a good rest. You get two weeks of leave now, right?”

He nods. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Michael’s

The relief felt by my beloved at returning to his home is profound. This has been an extremely difficult six months for him to endure. While halfway through their scheduled deployment, when he and his shipmates learned that there had been an attack against the United States, he began feeling an increased sense of stress and tension. The ship quickly received orders to take part in the military’s plan for retaliation, and the crew participated in launching missiles against the opponent just weeks after the September 11 attacks.

Although Michael and his shipmates were jubilant at participating in the successful missile strikes, leading to the defeat of the enemy, it began to haunt his dreams. In his conscious mind, the missile attacks were obvious and necessary steps that must be taken. But his subconscious mind brought him images in dreams of the missiles landing, tearing through buildings and people, killing not just combatants but civilians and bystanders. He has suffered from many sleepless nights, awakening with a jolt from nightmares relentlessly replaying these images again and again in his sleeping mind. His health has begun to suffer as a result of the fatigue. He has experienced headaches, listlessness, lack of appetite.

My concern for my dearest is intense, but I have been able to do nothing to alleviate his troubles. While dreaming his imagination creates ever more horrible scenes to view, and I cannot penetrate his mind no matter how I try. While awake, he sometimes has flashes of the dreams, and tries to carry on with his duties woodenly, ignoring his mental and physical symptoms. My whispers accomplish nothing.

We have both longed for the deployment to be finished, for the period of rest that he will be allowed upon returning home. It is my fervent hope that being with his family again will bring the peace that he needs to recover.

Laura

We’re laying in bed, after. As always when his ship gets back, the first thing Michael wants to do is have sex, and I am eager as well. I miss him so much when he’s gone. Being with him again reminds me of just how much my body needed it. It was particularly intense this time, brief and fierce.

He immediately falls asleep afterwards, holding me. I’m curled up next to him, my head laying on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. I am not sleepy, but I don’t get up or move, because I don’t want to disturb his sleep. He really seems to need it. I’m content to just lie here with him. I don’t need to be anywhere else for a couple of hours.

He is definitely thinner, I can tell. His ribs seem closer to the surface of his skin. I wonder if they aren’t feeding him well enough. I’ll take care of that. I start thinking about making a cake to go with the dinner I already have stewing in the crockpot. Chocolate or lemon? Probably lemon, I think he’d like that better.

He suddenly twitches under my head, and I feel his heart rate change from the slow steady thud of sleep, starting to speed up, until it is racing frantically. What is wrong? He’s still asleep, he must be dreaming. I wonder if I should wake him up.

But I don’t need to. He twitches more, then suddenly bolts upright with a shout, knocking me off his chest. I reach out to him, touch his back. “Honey?”

He looks over at me, confused for a moment, then when he realizes where he is, he exhales shakily and lays back down. He draws me back to him, holding me tightly. I relax back into his arms.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “Bad dream.”

“What was it about?” I ask.

“Nothing. I just have been having bad dreams lately.” He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.

I listen to his heart slow down again, but he can’t fall back to sleep. He sits back up. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

I watch as he heads to the bathroom, seeing his unusually slender form. He’s been on deployments before, but this one seems to have really taken a toll.

I’ll just have to love on him extra hard. I’ll take care of him.