Dear John(15)

“Video games?”

“I work out and read. But my buddies are experts at games. And the more violent the game, the more they like it.”

“What do you read?”

I told her, and she considered it. “And what happens when you’re sent to a war zone?”

“Then,” I said, finishing my chicken, “it’s different. There’s guard duty, and things are always breaking and need to be fixed, so you’re busy, even when you’re not out on patrol. But the infantry are the forces on the ground, so we spend a big chunk of our time away from camp.”

“Do you ever get scared?”

I searched for the right answer. “Yeah. Sometimes. It’s not like you’re walking around terrified all the time, even when things are going to hell all around you. It’s just that you’re . . . reacting, trying to stay alive. Things are happening so fast that you don’t have time to think much of anything except doing your job and trying not to die. It usually affects you afterward, once you’re clear. That’s when you realize how close you came, and sometimes you get the shakes or puke or whatever.”

“I’m not sure I could do what you do.”

I wasn’t sure if she expected a response to that, so I switched topics. “Why special education?” I asked.

“It’s kind of a long story. You sure you want to hear it?”

When I nodded, she drew a long breath.

“There’s this boy in Lenoir named Alan, and I’ve known him all my life. He’s autistic, and for a long time no one knew what to do with him or how to get through to him. And it just got to me, you know? I felt so bad for him, even when I was little. When I asked my parents about it, they said that maybe the Lord had special plans for him. It didn’t make any sense at first, but Alan had an older brother who was so patient with him all the time. I mean always. He never got frustrated with him, and little by little, he helped Alan. Alan’s not perfect by any stretch—he still lives with his parents, and he’ll never be on his own—but he’s not as lost as he was when he was younger, and I just decided that I wanted to be able to help kids like Alan.”

“How old were you when you decided that?”

“Twelve.”

“And you want to work with them in a school?”

“No,” she said. “I want to do what Alan’s brother did. He used horses.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “With autistic kids . . . it’s like they’re locked into their own little worlds, so usually school and therapy are based on routine. But I want to show them experiences that can open new doors for them. I’ve seen it happen. I mean, Alan was terrified of the horses at first, but his brother kept trying, and after a while, Alan got to the point where he would pat them or rub their noses, then later even feed them. After that, he started to ride, and I remember watching his face the first time he was up there . . . it was just so incredible, you know? I mean, he was smiling, just as happy as a kid could be. And that’s what I want these kids to experience. Just . . . happiness, even if it’s only for a short while. That’s when I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. Maybe open a riding camp for autistic kids, where we can really work with them. So maybe they can feel that same happiness that Alan did.”

She put down her fork as if embarrassed, then set her plate off to the side.

“That sounds wonderful.”

“We’ll see if it happens,” she said, sitting up again. “It’s just a dream for now.”

“I take it you like horses, too?”

“All girls love horses. Don’t you know that? But yes, I do. I have an Arabian named Midas, and it kills me sometimes that I’m here when I could be off riding him.”

“The truth comes out.”

“As it should. But I’m still planning to stay here. I’ll ride all day, every day, when I get back. Do you ride?”

“I did once.”

“Did you like it?”

“I was sore the next day. It hurt to walk.”

She giggled, and I realized I liked talking to her. It was easy and natural, unlike with so many people. Above me, I could see Orion’s belt; just over the horizon on the water, Venus had appeared and glowed a heavy white. Guys and girls continued to tramp up and down the stairs, flirting with booze-induced courage. I sighed.

“I should probably get going so I can visit with my dad for a while. He’s probably wondering where I am. If he’s still awake, that is.”

“Do you want to call him? You can use the phone.”

“No, I think I’ll just head out. It’s a long walk.”