Two Klicks: Too Close

Photo by Paul Garland

The numbers were wrong. My emails were telling me one thing and the research was telling me something else. Why was it so hard to reconcile mismatched pieces of data? It didn’t seem right. Numbers stacked in a column on a day just like any other and I was splintered into pieces over them. Deep down, I knew why . . .

I was at work. Like most days, I was lost in one of my spreadsheets, deaf to the office soundtrack. If Chris had parachuted onto the balcony behind me and tapped on the glass window, I probably would’ve missed it. Good thing he tapped from another window today.

It was the first time he’d ever done it. The user was alien to my buddy list, but I accepted the invitation because I knew the nickname. Chris found me at my desk from a computer in the desert, over sand, over ocean, through wires, and through waves. My heart breathed out a silent “thank you” for technology.

Within our brief IM session, he mentioned his platoon’s separation from the rest of the company, a mission in that sandbox that would keep him out for roughly a month. He also described his squad-sized quarters, apparently more comfortable, but still lacking privacy. As my excited ramblings over a newfound means of communication poured across the window, Chris wondered at my sense of calm. I was confused. What had I missed?

“There was an IED that hit a couple klicks away from us. It was on CNN.”

I was left with that thought when our conversation came to a close. It’s an ugly thing to hear, but I never asked to stand in the shelter while he runs through the storm. If he’s going through it, I’m there holding his hand because he needs to tell someone—they all do.

Today, the numbers were wrong and I struggled to make them right. Chris’ words echoed in my head, but I needed to make the pieces fit. I threw myself into the arms of my work because making sense out of numbers was all I could do to keep myself from just one more thing I have absolutely no control over.