CHAPTER 3 - IS IT OVER OR IS IT JUST THE BEGINNING?

IS IT OVER?

Mustafa and I were standing back out on the level area in front and looking off to the, uh, distance...and I realized the sun was going down in the sky. Good, be cooler..maybe.

I stood with him beside me, just taking in the sight of the mountain peaks and breathtakingly beautiful they are. A breeze had begun to pick up just as we had come through the doorway, and it felt SO good after that hot dusty pungent air tainted as it had been and still was with the stench of dried blood . It felt good, the air, the...

"Mustafa?"

"Yeh, Mate."

"Who is that woman? The one whose son I helped. Do you know?"

"Yes, I know her. Her name is Marti, and she's a friend. In fact, she's the one called me earlier. They'd been hit and she needed help. 
She knew I would come."

"She was right," I said...and for all my previous respect and appreciation for Mustafa, his appreciated quotient just went up a notch. 

"God this dude...cares SO much. He is known for being someone to call when you are in need. He comes," I thought to myself, and in doing so...wellllll......

The heat, stress of the last couple hours, the literal HORROR of it all finally got to me. Oh I didn't break down sobbing or anything, but in a sense I did kind of collapse...and that twit saw it. DRAT. Next thing I knew I was, you guessed it, being propelled...and for once I didn't give a rats behind.

"Least the drive back will be a whole lot more peaceful than the trip out here," I thought to myself...HOPEFULLY. 

I looked at Mustafa. Hmmmm...

"ONNNNN the OTHER hand! 
THIS IS MUSTAFA we talky about here," 
and I began to giggle. Not tee hee or a slight rumble of hahaha, OH NO. 

I BEGAN TO FRIGGING GIGGLE. 

Like a hyena on goofy pills. OH GOOD GOD.

Well, there goes MY reputation...and when I heard myself thinking that, I thought... 
"WHAT reputation. Cain't lose wutcha nevah had, goofy," and it got worse. Stress will do that.

Needless to say, Mustafa shot me a look like ohhh, you do NOT wanna know. LOL. But then he started in, sorta, right after I stuck my tongue out at him. Ok, looney tunes x2.

OMG, get the floats. 
We gonna have a pah-RADE of goofies.

That's about when I got propelled INTO THE HUMMER, and strapped down. 

First I was insulted, then I was giggly.

"DINGDANGLE dude. Hell, it's getting so you can't even take me to a SHOOT-OUT for fear that I will EMBARRASS THE SHIT out of you. 
TUFF BEANS."

That brainfart didn't help either.

It's a wonder Mustafa didn't haul my ass to the border and drop me off. Nope. Instead? 
He told me he was really proud of me. 

"YOU ARE?" I giggled...wondering at what point HIS sanity had fallen off the radar. 
"Yes, I am proud,"

"and just why would that be?"

"Because what you did in there. Amazing, Mate. Yeh. Amazing."

"SHIT, I'm good," I grinned, my giggling finally subsiding a bit.

"Yep. That you are," and he grinned back.

"So are you, but you've had a lot of practice at this crap."

"Sadly yes."

That brought me back down a teench. We sat in the Hummer, and I sat thinking about how I knew just how much practice he had had...and I ALSO knew we had passed something of a milestone this afternoon. Maybe I had passed some sort of test thingy. But, I suddenly KNEW...WE ARE gonna do this damn bookie. Do it up GOOD...WE gonna make a difference.

"HOT DAMN," and he grinned at me for saying that.

"Yep."

Then he started the Hummer, and well...
it's all gonna, yeh. We gonna. DAMN we good.

Fuck, I needs a NAP.

NO NAP FOR NOW, DOOFUS:

We continued to sit with the engine running 
(it was still stiflingly hot and we needed the 
air conditioning). 

Mustafa was punching away on his cell, probably some high-level report thingy, and I was mentally writing the next great tome. Okay, I was actually doing little more than looking at the mountains and picking lint out of my cerebral navel.  

We sat, and as I looked over at my Combat Journalist as he continued to peck rapidly, 
I couldn't help but be really damn glad I had come. He had said he was proud of me, amazingly, but that didn't hold a candle to how proud I was of him. But more importantly, we had done good. Yes we had, and it was more than 
a bit humbling to say the least. I would have plenty of time in the future (I hoped) to reflect back on it, but for now I was just happy I could be a part of it.

BEEN ONE HELL OF A DAY, God knows...
and since I had only arrived this morning, 
I wondered if this pace was gonna continue or if there were any leisurely picnics by a river or some such in the immediate future. Like THAT was even remotely possible. Nothing like being an eternal idiot in the face of impending I didn't know what.

"Do they even DO picnics in Afghanistan?" 
I wondered. 
"Probably not recently," I decided...
not having a clue whether I was right or not.
"Besides," maybe Mustafa is allergic to potato salad or some such thing." Ah well...

I was sitting with my eyes half-closed and so I didn't realize someone was coming until I heard the tapping on my window. I rose up and looked out...and saw that first young boy I had helped. I hit the button and rolled down the window. 

"Hi mistuh," he said in very good English, 
while grinning.
"Hey yourself," and I found myself grinning back.
"Momma didn't want me to come bother you, but..."
and his grin got a bit toothier, and a bit more devious. 

UH OH. I suspect he is a bit spunkier than I had previously thought.

I signalled to him that i was coming out, and after putting the window back up and making sure Mustafa knew what I was doing, I opened the door and stepped out...thanking God that feeling had fully returned to my right leg. At this point, a pratfall would have been a bit anti-climactic to say the least.

"So how you doing, sport?" I asked him.
"Better, Mistuh. Thanks to you," 
and I blushed the blush of the seven-veiled doofuses.
"Nah. I just did what I had to. You were brave 
in there, kiddo."

"Momma says you were a hero," 
he said with a wide grin.
"Yeh, well your momma perhaps stretches the truth a bit," and I was once again aware of how stupid self-deprecation can sound sometimes. But it's not just a form of humor for me. it's also rooted in S.A.D. (Social Anxiety Disorder) which runs in my family. Which makes the situation I am now in really hysterical. Must laugh about it sometime. Maybe.

"Where is your momma, and by the way...
what's your name?"
"She is finishing helping inside, and it's Brian."
"Nice to meet you, Brian."
"Yeh. Nice to meet you too, mistuh," 
and he grinned broadly.

"My name is Dylan, but my nickname is Dusty or Bear or Dustybear...and you can call me whichever you like."
He looked puzzled. Well, considering that at least 95% of what we were breathing was dust...

"Bear, that's FUNNY."
He laughed and then I did too. Cause, Yeh. 
It IS funny.
"I never met a Bear before."
"Good thing, Brian. Good thing."
We both laughed, and then out of the corner of my eye, I saw his mother coming out of the building and headed our way.

"UH OH. Looks like your cavalry is coming."
He turned, and smiled...but a bit warily I thought and that told me that perhaps this little mission to the Hummer had NOT been exactly an authorized venture. OOPS!

I hoped I was not going to have to rescue him AGAIN. LOL.

Marti walked up to us, and for a minute I really felt for her. Reminded that she had lost a son today, and almost the other two as well...and she had had to tend to her students, both the injured and, well...those beyond band-aids.

"Hey gorgeous," I grinned at her.
"Hey yourself," and she tried to grin back and ALMOST succeeded in pulling it off.
"C'mon. Sit in here where it's cooler. 
You look exhausted."

I opened the rear door of the Hummer, and stepped back to let her slide in. I motioned for Brian to get in with her and after closing the door after him, resumed my seat up front. Mustafa was still typing away, but said hello and nodded. Even reached back and tousled Brian's hair. 
Yeh. Sweet moment.

"Are you going to be okay, Marti?" 
I asked her as I turned around to face the back. But before she could answer, Brian interjected.
"Hey momma. You know what his name is?
It's BEAR, momma. Cool, huh."

"Yes, it is honey, and so is he too."
Oh God. I blushed a mile and then some.

"Okay, I get flustered real easy, so cool it lady."
I grinned and so did she, but I could see grinning was not easy right about now.

"Yeh, i guess so, Dusty. Or should I say Bear. Oh, and Mustafa told me you were coming so I already knew your name."

I mock punched his arm a tad making sure first that he wasn't typing. 
"TATTLER."
He grinned, but went right back to typing.

"Hmmm. I may have to consider revoking his phone privileges. He thinks he be ignoring THIS Bear."

THAT got a smile and a giggle out of Brian, and an even bigger grin out of Marti.
"Marti..."
"Yes, Mustafa," who had finally put up his cell.
"Your car?"
"Pretty much a memory, Mustafa."
"Ok. You with us then. You ready?"
"You sure, Mustafa?"
"Yeh. Damn sure,"
and with that said he moved the shifter and we began moving backwards. 

As soon as we cleared the heap of steel next to us that heretofore in another life had been a Mercedes (belonging to Marti), he hit the accelerator, and as they say...WE GONNNNE.

Ok, so much for that leisurely drive back to Kabul. Like I said, It be Mustafa we be tawky heah. Leisurely ain't his style, Oh God. LOL.

A TIME TO TALK, A TIME TO CRY:

Not exactly leisurely, but not exactly the rip roarin' zoomin' we had done coming out here either for which I knew I would be ETERNALLY GRATEFUL. My insides were now in far worse shape than they had been then. Even after the trip.

Not much talking either. We were all pretty wiped out after the school adventure of sorts, and so it was mostly ride and kind of try to enjoy the scenery. I don't know what I had really expected. Of course, I had a feel for the city with all the pictures Mustafa had shared with me for months, but it's different in person. Always is. 

Before too long, we nestled into a parking place in front of a cafe in Kabul, one that I gathered was a favorite of Mustafa's. I wasn't too sure of the condition of most of my interior parts yet, but I figured what the hell. What else can I possibly do to myself after the day we had had.

It was a nice place, fairly quiet at the moment which suited us just fine, and we got settled in a booth near the back. 

The server came and brought our menus, but at that point, I realized. Food was NOT going to be a good idea, so coffee it was. Marti also said she wasn't hungry, and who could blame her. Brian and Mustafa, on the other hand, ordered and Marti and I just looked at them while rolling our eyes. I liked her already. LOL.

I finally couldn't stand it anymore.
"I couldn't help but notice, so forgive me but is that a British accent?" I asked her.

"Yes, although not as much as it used to be."
"Hah, I thought so," I replied as I noticed Brian beginning to nestle up against her. Easy to see he loves his mother. Wait. 
"Marti, again forgive me, but don't you have another child?"
"No need to apologize, Bear, and yes I do. But he is in London right now with my family."

Whew, I thought. Losing one is enough for one day.
"So how did you ever wind up in Afghanistan?" 
I asked.
"Long story, Bear."
"I think I can handle that."
"Well, okay. My father was an engineer with a company that did a lot of business in Afghanistan and I spent a lot of time here when I was a kid. Then, after graduating from University, I decided to come back to see if I could be useful. My degree is in Social Work with a minor in business. I also have a teaching degree, and I thought I might be able to do something to help the people of this country."

"Kewl. Kewl and remarkable."
"Not really, Bear. I had a lot of connections through dad, and because of my spending so much time growing up here, I just wanted to. Besides, I had met my then-future husband right before I left to go to school, and when I came back he was a lot of the reason too."

"Ahhh. 
Love FOR the country. 
Love IN the country."
That got a grin, and a laugh.

"Well put, Bear."
"I blush, madam."
"You are really something Bear. You truly are. Mustafa said I would like you."
"He did?"
"Yes, he did."
"That tattling thing again."
"Yup."

I looked over at him just to see the smirk on his face. LOL. 

"You said your husband was killed?" 
and the minute I said that I wished I hadn't. 
Geez. What a dumbass. 

"Good GOD, Marti. I'm SO sorry. That was really insensitive, and really STUPID."

The look on her face was gracious but I could see I had struck a nerve and I hated myself 
for that.

"It's over, Bear. Over a year ago, and I've had to pick up the pieces and move on...for the kids if nothing else. it's been a lot easier with having them."
"Moving on isn't easy ever, but it's necessary for you too, Marti."
She nodded.

What of course neither of us were mentioning is the fact that lurking in my remark was the little matter of her son dying earlier today too. An insensitive reminder.

NOTE TO SELF: KICK SELF LATER, 
or ask Mustafa to do it.

Right at that moment the food arrived and Mustafa and Brian who had both been quiet during the exchange between Marti and I, got busy devouring what looked like very good food. But, I was glad I hadn't tried to order anything. I would never have kept it down.

Marti and Brian were sitting across from us, and it was hard to really tell what Mustafa was thinking, without turning and obviously looking. Finally I couldn't stand it and did only to see him busily eating. But I couldn't help but get the feeling that 'something was wrong in Dodge,' and the little hairs on the back of my neck were bristling. THAT is never a good sign either.

I looked away and then back at Marti, who I could tell had also noticed Mustafa's being quiet.
I got the impression that she felt there was something wrong too. There was and I would find out what later, and for not the first time I would want very badly to help my mate. But also not for the first time as well, I wasn't sure I knew how.

I would try. But, sometimes that isn't enough. God, what a day. 

Hell of a day, indeed. 

I wondered TO MYSELF what tomorrow would be like and I shuddered.

CHAPTER 4-Click Here