Sam Says, “See You Later”  

If Sam heard her mom give one more “Pollyanna” speech about how lucky she was to be a military kid, she was seriously going to vomit. That feeling also rang true for the word resilient. Message received!

Sam, like so many other military kids got it. They understood the drill. They move every two years, they have to make friends quickly, they are flexible and adaptable, yadda, yadda, yadda. 

They were just words.

It is impossible to validate everything teenagers feel during a move with a few choice words and catchphrases. Sometimes Sam just needed to “embrace the suck” for awhile. Right now was one of those times.

Here she was at Fort Hood (the hottest place on earth in July), two thousand miles from her first boyfriend, her volleyball team, and the life she knew at Fort Knox.

When she was younger, her mom used to unpack her room first. Her mom would set up her bed, hang her posters, and wash her linens right away so the first night would always be as familiar to her as as possible. Her mom wouldn’t touch another box until Sam’s room was done. As a kid, it made the transition easier. Waking up among familiar things always helped Sam get used to a new place. 

Sam looked around her new room—her sixth new room in sixteen years. Sadly, it looked just like her old room on post at Knox. It was the same generic paint color and same cheap, beige carpet. 

“Here we go again,” Sam mumbled to herself as she picked up the box cutter and began to unpack. She found it hard to believe she actually missed Kentucky. When they first moved to Knox from Germany, she thought the Kentucky accent sounded strange in comparison to the sharp, no-nonsense sound of the German language. But now, she would give anything to hear that soft southern drawl of her boyfriend, Marcus, who coincidently was not a military brat and, because of that fact, broke up with her last Wednesday.

She winced as she remembered that conversation with unrevised clarity. They were sitting on folding chairs in her front yard. It was hot and sticky, and the shade from the Dogwood tree was insufficient. They were both drinking Gatorade; he had brought her grape—her favorite. As he sat down and handed her the bottle, he looked anxious.

“I looked for you at the gym this morning. You slacking off?” he asked in an attempt to be funny.

“No, I ran with my dad earlier. Besides, I can’t work out on campus anymore since I’m officially not a student anymore.”

“I still can’t believe you’re leaving. I’m sure coach will miss you. You started varsity as a sophomore.”

“Don’t remind me, Marcus. It’s hard enough knowing they’re having tryouts this week and even harder not knowing how good the team is in Texas. My parents haven’t even decided which school I’m going to.” 

She remembered the awkward silence that followed, and both of them were quiet for a while as they watched three of the movers struggle with the oversized dining room table. Her dad almost cried when her mom had it delivered, saying it was going to put them over their weight limit—a common argument between many military couples.

Marcus finally broke the silence. “So these guys pack up all your stuff, wrap it, and put it on the truck, and you don’t have to do a thing?”

“It isn’t that simple, Marcus.” Sam was grateful for the shift in conversation to menial subjects. “There’s a lot of prep work that goes into it. My mom is a total freak show about getting ready. We have to sort and and purge until the Thrift store employees cringe when they see my mom’s car pull up.” 

“That’s insane, Sam. Why not let them just throw everything in a box?”

Sam smiled at the questions in spite of herself. Marcus, like most kids who never move, had no idea of the logistics involved. “Most military families have their system. My mom used to just ziplock her underwear drawer because she didn’t want the movers touching her ‘delicates,’ then it led into ziplock bags for sheets, and now we ziplock the whole house it seems.”

Marcus just nodded and got quiet as Sam explained the moving rituals to him. Even as she spoke, she could tell Marcus wasn’t really listening. Like most people with big things to say, he was just waiting for his moment. 

As the conversation slowed, Sam began to feel as heavy as that table the movers were struggling with. Her heart was beating faster and she began to sweat even more. The breeze had altogether stopped, and the air became very still. She took slow breaths and prayed that the conversation wouldn’t start again. She knew what Marcus was going to say. Sweet, beautiful Marcus. He was everything a girl could want in a boyfriend: handsome, athletic, funny, affectionate…

But, he wasn’t a brat, and he didn’t understand her lifestyle. As much as she wanted to freeze the moment, what happened next was inevitable. 

“Look, Sam, I know we haven’t talked about this yet, but I’m not sure what to do about us. Texas is far away, and I know we can Snap and FaceTime, but I’m kinda old school. I need to see my girl in person everyday.”

Sam just looked at her feet. Her stomach was in her ankles, and she fought back the darts of tears in her eyes. She knew this was going to happen, and although she admired him for doing it in person and not over text or the phone or social media, she just wanted to evaporate into the humid, dense air. 

“Are you going to say anything?” Marcus pleaded.

Luckily, Sam didn’t have to as her mother burst out the front door. Everything Sam’s mother did was loud and a bit “extra,” but for the first time, she was grateful to hear her mother’s booming voice. 

“Sam—Oh hey, Marcus. Look I know y’all are trying to spend as much time together, but we’re on the clock, and I need you to ziplock the silverware. Pronto!”

As Mrs Murphy disappeared into the house, Sam slowly got to her feet and looked toward Marcus.

“I got to go; you heard my mom. She makes General Patton look like a librarian.” 

Marcus stood up as well and put his hands on Sam’s shoulders and spun her around to face him. He looked hurt and was obviously waiting for her to speak.

“Don’t worry, Marcus. I understand. Don’t feel bad about saying what you said. At least you were honest.”

“So this is really it. This is goodbye.”

Sam leaned in and let herself be held one last time. She wanted to stay in that hug forever, but she knew that letting go slowly was more painful. She pulled away and started toward the door. She turned to look back at him standing there in disbelief and sadness. She wanted to be angry, but she knew that would come later. Right now she was just heartbroken and she didn’t want to show that. She wanted to walk in the house and never talk to him again. But she could see he was just as hurt, so she said the one thing that she was raised to say.

“Not goodbye, Marcus. We don’t say that in the Army world. We just say, see you later.”

As she shut the front door behind her she looked out at Marcus as he got into his car parked next door. The bandaid was ripped off, and it hurt like hell. 

 * * *

Sam was brought back to reality as she opened the box in front of her. She picked out the first object, and it was wrapped in 300 pieces of brown wrapping paper. As she finally tore the last piece off, she found herself holding the winter dance picture as Marcus stared up at her with his wide grin and warm brown eyes. Sam could feel the pain rising in her chest as she lay down next to the box, tears streaming down her face. 

She finally let herself feel the loss, the grief, of having to leave a life she created for herself behind. She knew she would bounce back. She knew she would probably like living here, too, but for now, she just wanted to feel the pain.

It felt like hours had passed when a knock at her door brought her back to the present. 

Her mom was on the other side of the door with her “new duty station” checklist. Sam knew it by heart. Register for school, commissary run for basics, get set up with a PCM, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Sam could feel the anger and resentment starting to bubble up inside of her as she thought of her own checklist. Make the new volleyball team, find friends as good as the ones I left, get used to this ugly, oppressive landscape, and of course, try to forget about Marcus. 

“Be down in a minute, Mom. I just want to finish this box.”

Stay tuned for Part II.