Suzie’s House 471 : Baggage

“Really?” Drew gave Walter a long, hard look as they walked up the street to where he had parked. He could swear the old man had just said he killed his own best friend during the Viet Nam War, but he couldn’t be sure. There had to be more to the story.

Walter nodded as if they were having a perfectly normal conversation. Either he had his eyes off on some distant past, or he found something of interest in the flow of college students along the pedestrian oriented street.

Drew gave him his space. If he wanted to say more, he would be all ears, but he wasn’t about to pry. Not the way he would have before he unearthed a few demons of his own.

“He was an underhanded, vindictive jerk. For every time he saved me, he tried to get me killed a dozen.” Walter’s mouth compressed to a tart line. “Still, I didn’t really mean to kill him. No matter what anyone might have said on the chopper or in the barracks. All I was doing was trying to stay alive.”

Drew nodded as if he had any idea what Walter was talking about. Though he’d never served himself, he knew that war could be a mess. Things you didn’t want to see were bound to happen. From what he’d heard, that particular war was worse than most.

“You probably look at me differently now.” Walter’s glance carried an equal balance of guilt and embarrassment.

“Well, no. Not really. Everyone’s got their own baggage, I just didn’t know much about yours before.”

“Baggage. That’s a good word for it. I’ve been carrying this thing around for fifty years. It’s been a millstone around my neck the whole time.”

“I’ll probably carry around the moment I thought I had to smoke a joint to do my job for the rest of my life. If I could get back into that hippie van, I’d have found another way to turn Dave into a snitch. There’s no way I’d ever have exposed myself to China Black.”

“Let me guess. Someone offered you a joint that was laced with something?”

Drew nodded.

“And you thought it was just a joint. What was the harm?”

Drew nodded again.

“I’ve smoked a few bowls myself. They did me more good than harm. You just had bad luck. In my case, I punched Martin. He was trying to pull me out of a rescue chopper and I punched him to make him let me go. The chopper went up. He stayed down. Enemy fire took him out.”

“Sounds like self defense to me.”

“Yeah, I’ve told myself that.” Walter nodded. “Don’t you think after all these years I’d think of that? But I had reason to want him dead. Anyone else… I’d probably have let them take my place. If it happened a few months sooner I’d definitely have let Martin take my place. But I didn’t and when he died, I was glad.”

Drew winced. That was some serious luggage to be carrying around.

“So for the last fifty years I’ve been wondering just where the line is. Just when does it go from being an accident to being murder?”

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