Some Call it Murder

"No!" The word escaped through Carl's lips as he sat up in the bed. He stared into the dim room for a moment, his breathing rapid and raspy.

The soft, warm, female form lying next to him stirred slightly but didn't wake. Gently, he placed his hand on her naked hip before turning and placing his feet on the floor. Carl rubbed the sleep from his frightened eyes and looked over at the dimly glowing numbers of the digital clock on the nightstand.

"Four-twenty-one. Shit!" he thought out loud. He brushed his hair back out of his face and stood up. Slipping on his robe over his nude body, he walked across the bedroom and headed for the kitchen.

The coffee maker was already brewing, pouring the black liquid into the waiting pot. Carl always set it up to start making coffee at least forty-five minutes before he planned on getting up. Carl reaching over, picked up the hand towel on the end of the counter and wiped the sweat from his face. An open package of cigarettes beckoned to him from the top of the refrigerator. He searched the interior of the package for a smoke but it was empty. Tossing it toward the trash can and missing, Carl opened a cabinet and pulled out a fresh carton. Ripping off the end of the carton, he pulled out another pack. Tossing the open carton onto the counter, he opened the new pack quickly and pulled out a cigarette. Looking around for a light, he tossed the package onto the top of the refrigerator. Finally, he opened a drawer and pulled out a pack of matches.

Carl noticed that the coffee didn't like very much being finished and reached over and grabbed a coffee cup hanging over the stove. Waiting, he sat the cup down on the counter and went ahead and lit the cigarette dangling from his lips.

Pulling the pot out before the brewing was complete, he poured himself a cup of coffee as he watched the coffee-maker pour coffee onto the base of the appliance. Shaking his head, he grabbed the towel off the stove with his empty hand and cleaned up the mess before he replaced the pot.

He took a deep drink of the hot coffee and then a deeper drag on the cigarette, holding the breath in for a time before letting it escape slowly over the coffee cup. Slowly he turned back and faced the bedroom.

Shaking his head, Carl walked back into the bedroom with his coffee cup and cigarette and sat down in the easy chair at the end of the bed. He took another drink from the cup and leaned back against the chair. He looked over at the figure on the bed as he took another drag from the cigarette.

The female form was still asleep but had turned over on her back, uncovering herself. The figure's once full, firm breasts had sagged slightly with the years but she was still a beautiful woman. Her honey brown hair streaked with occasional gray and her skin still soft to the touch, Carl watched her with quiet care.

Taking a deep breath, Carl stood and up walked back into the living room. Over in the corner stood a desk with an old IBM desktop computer sitting on it. Carl stood for a moment, smoking his cigarette as he looked at the desk and the computer. Slowly, he walked over and, pulling out the chair, sat down.

He reached over and flipped on the power and then sat quietly, waiting for the DOS to load. The harddisk buzzed for a moment and then the screen prompt sat flashing, waiting for Carl's command.

"C:\WP50\WP," Carl typed onto the keyboard giving the computer the commands that would start up WordPerfect on his computer. Again, the harddisk buzzed slightly as Carl continued to type in commands that ultimately brought up the article he was working on.

"My Lai and other American Atrocities" read the top line of the computer screen.

Carl sat and stared at the screen for a long time before beginning to type.

"There is nothing new about the idea of Americans becoming monsters in a war with Asians in the Pacific. It is not well known but at the end or World War II, Eleanor Roosevelt felt that anyone who would be able to fight and survive under the conditions that the American Marines fought against the Japanese could be nothing more than animals and therefore, unfit to return to American society. She therefore asked that Marines be placed in concentration camps after the war. She didn't get her wish, but many people felt the same way when American troops returned from Vietnam. Especially after My Lai."

Carl stared at the screen, oblivious to all else as he finished the opening paragraph. He didn't notice the quiet female figure, clad in a light bathrobe, as she walked in and sat quietly on the sofa across from him.

"Vietnam again?"

Carl, slightly startled, turned and looked at her.

"What?"

"I asked if you were writing about Vietnam again."

Carl smiled sadly and shook his head.

"Yea," he stood up and picked up his coffee cup. "Coffee?"

"Sure, thanks. Bring me a cigarette, too."

Carl walked across the room and into the kitchen.

"Donna, you're out of your cigarettes," he called from the kitchen. "Do you want one of mine?"

Donna raised her legs up onto the sofa, curling up with a pillow, and pulled the short robe down to cover her thighs.

"Yea, that'll be fine." She looked over at the kitchen door as Carl walked back in with the two cups of coffee. "How come you're up so early?"

Carl handed her the cup of hot coffee and reached into his robe pocket pulling out the pack of cigarettes.

"Just thought I'd write for a little while." He offered the open package of cigarettes to her.

"Are you having the nightmares again?" Donna asked as she reached up and took a cigarette from the package.

"Yea. Not too bad, though."

She placed it in her mouth as Carl put the pack back in his pocket and pulled out a lighter.

"Not bad, huh? That's why you're up before five in the morning?" She leaned forward so that Carl could light the cigarette.

"It's nothing," Carl said as the cigarette glowed. He put the lighter back in the robe pocket and headed back over to the computer with his coffee. "I just had to write some ideas down before I forgot them."

Donna shook her head negatively and blew out the smoke she had taken deep into her lungs.

"Don't give me that. You forgetting that we were married when you got back from Vietnam. I went through these nightmares before."

Carl sat down slowly. "I just had some ideas to write down. The nightmares weren't that bad."

Donna sat quietly for a moment staring at the burning cigarette. "I remember you waking up early those mornings cause of the nightmares. I remember what it put us through."

"Yea, you remember." Carl stood back up and looked at her. "I remember you leaving after my GI bill paid for us to go to college, too. You got your law degree and then you left."

Donna stared at him for a minute, fighting back the tears.

"That's right, blame me for leaving. I didn't leave until the nightmares were too much for either of us to handle." She stabbed the cigarette out in the ashtray on the end table. "You're the one who wouldn't get help. I'm sorry but I just couldn't take it anymore."

Donna, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes, turned away from him. Carl, angry at first, stood looking at her for a moment and then, resigned, turned and sat down at the desk. Taking a long swig from the coffee cup, he turned back to face Donna.

"Ok, maybe you're right. But it's not going to be the same this time. I promise."

"What makes you think that? You've started working on this series of articles and the book and the nightmares have started back."

Donna shook her head trying to gather the right words. Carl just sat staring at the computer monitor.

"Carl, I divorced you because of those nightmares and because you wouldn't do anything about them. Now, we're just beginning to build another relationship between us and you start with the nightmares again. I won't go through that again. I won't!"

"Fine! What am I suppose to do?" He turned and faced her again. "I've agreed to write this book. I've taken an advance from the publisher."

He turned back to face her.

"What are you going to do? Leave me until the book's finished and then try to start something after I'm finished? Is that what you want to do? Leave me again?"

Donna stared at him as he turned and watched the screen for a minute and then turned to face her.

"Well?"

"Maybe that's just what we have to do," she said quietly.

They stared at each other for several minutes until Carl finally turned back to the computer and began to write again. Donna sat on the sofa watching him for a few minutes and then got up and walked into the kitchen. Setting the coffee cup down, she wiped the tears from her eyes and then walked back to the door where she could see Carl.

"I'm going back to my place," she said quietly.

Carl stopped typing but continued to stare at the screen.

"Maybe that's the best thing for you to do right now."

Donna reached up and wiped the tears from her face again.

"Carl, I love you. I always have." She turned and began walking across the living room toward the bedroom. "When you've finished the book, call me."

"Yea," Carl continued to stare at the screen for a few minutes and then began typing again.

"There were children in that village. Some call it murder."