Alone Again

So you see, back in the day long distance calling was very expensive.  You were charged rates per minute based on where the call was placed from and where to.  The Army didn't allow soldiers to use phones for personal use.  Can you imagine that phone bill?  Every single soldier is away from home --all those long distance calls.

In order to call home you had to have your own phone.  In order to have your own phone you had to have your own place to live.  Soldiers that lived in the barracks had no such luxury.  And so, enter in Ma-Bell, Mrs. AT & T herself.

On most military installations they had call centers set up by phone companies where soldiers could go to make phone calls.  The one on Ft. Riley was operated by AT & T.  There would be a number of booths or private rooms with a phone in it, maybe a small desk or just a chair.  You would go to the front desk and fill out a form of where you were calling.  They'd calculate your rates then you would pay up front for the number of minutes you wanted.  It was like using a phone phone, essentially, without having to feed a phone quarters.  You'd pay for your call then get assigned to a booth/room then go wait for your call.  The front desk operator would dial for you then you'd pick up and receive your call.  Just before your time was up you'd hear a warning and then when time was up the call would just cut off.

It was actually a horrible set up because the calls were so expensive you could only afford maybe 5-10 minutes per call but that was never long enough to say all you needed to say and then just ---dead silence.  Mid-sentence your call was cut off and that was that.  As I sit here writing this tears are just flowing down my face as I recall the horrible sinking feeling that always left me.  I'd walk out of the room with my face looking like it must look right now --all wet, red and swollen from crying.

And so it was with an overload of various emotions that I took myself to the call center one evening and decided to place a call to Bradenton, Florida.  I needed to talk to my Mom.

Mom was very happy to hear from me and had a thousand questions about Ft. Riley and how things were going. . . ."No Mom, I'm not at my new unit yet . . . yes, the drive was fine . . . no, I didn't have any problems getting here . . . .no, I don't have my address yet, I will once I get my assignment . . . its okay, I think it's just going to be a lot different from Germany . . . Mom?"  I can barely talk now, breathless and on the verge of tears. . . "Mom?  Yeah, I'm okay but Mom . . . I'm . . I'm pregnant."

I'm not sure if it was because earlier in the conversation I told her we only had a few minutes to talk or because she was over taken with emotions --probably a combination of the two but my Mom just started talking really really fast --I mean like, put the tape on fast forward kind of fast.  It wasn't funny then but recalling it now, it's makes me chuckle.

I couldn't really pin Mom's reaction or feelings because they were just all over the place.  She wasn't angry but she was definitely stern but not even in a bad way --just a motherly way, kind of a taking charge kind of way.  That was rare for my Mom, she mostly was not a dominate or disciplinarian type parent.  Mom's reaction reminds me of one of those sprinklers that sputter water around in a circle.

And sputtering she was.

You're pregnant ?  Oh Melissa!  Oh Melissa!  What are yo going to do?  What is the Army going to do?  Can you stay in the Army?  Who is this guy?  Huh?  Who is he?  Does he know, did you tell him?  Is he going to marry you?  Is he?  What's going to happen?  He's not going to marry you, is he?  He's not.  Oh Melissa.  You keep the baby.  Don't you go off and do that --what is that?  What is that?  Its that . . what girls do . . .oh, I can't think of the word.  You know, right?  When girls don't want their babies . . 

Abortion, Mom?  You mean an abortion?


Yes!  That's the word, I couldn't think of the word.  Don't you dare do that, Melissa.  Don't you dare think about that.

Mom, I'm not going to have an abortion.  I'm not even considering that Mom . . .


I just don't want you to be scared and do something stupid.  I just don't want you to think you have to do that.  I don't know what you're going to do--I just don't know but you're pregnant now and that's a baby!  That's a baby, Melissa and you need to call him, you need to call that guy . . what is his name?  See, we don't even KNOW him, Melissa.  You see that.  We don't know anything about him and you won't tell us because you know he's black, isn't he?  Are you dating a black man?

Uh . . . .yeah but how did you know that?


I'm you're mother.  I tell you this all of the time.  I know things.  I can tell things.  I just know and God he reveals things to me, I ask him to--to tell me things I need to know about my girls and I know---Melissa, why do you think that matters, huh?  That doesn't matter, why didn't you tell me?  You should have told me.  Do you think I care?  Do you think I care about a black man? 

Mom, his name is Jerry and our time is almost up.  The call is going to get cut off.

I don't know what you're going to do Melissa but you pray, you ask God to give yo direction.  You go back to your ---your ---what's that Army thing called?  You know, where soldiers live?

Barracks?


Yes, you go back to your barracks and you pray.  You ask God what you should do and he will tell you.  You promise me, you promise me that you won't do anything stupid and you promise me that you will pray, you do that, Melissa.  I will pray to, I pray for you all of the time.  Oh Melissa, just pray and ask God.  Call me when you can.  Call me again.  Call Jerry.

With tears running down my face, I listened to my Mom.  I noticed she never really scolded me.  The tone in her voice sort of did but she never condemned me.  I promised her I was okay and that I'd be fine.

And then like always, mid-sentence our call cut off and I immediately realized how alone I was in that moment.  No one to talk to, no one I knew --and I had to go back and spend another night in the holding barracks.

Across the world, thousands of miles away was a soldier, a soldier that I loved and missed, a soldier that had no idea he was going to be a father.