Dearly Departed

It was cold when I left Al Asad.

I arrived in Baghdad, to interview with the head of the new department. She was a consultant, a wonder-woman of industrial overhaul. I entered the building. There was no one around, the entire building was empty, sterile, vacant, swimming in faux-wood paneling. I immediately did not like it.

Where was the laughter? Where were all the people? Al Asad had been so crappy, but at least we seemed to laugh alot. This new job would be strange. I found her office, and slowly approached the door. She was sitting at the desk, her small size made the desk look huge and out of place. I smiled, and she invited me in.

"Your resume is impressive," she said, looking up from her computer. "Did you have time to look through the list of things to do?"
"Uh, yes," I replied, pretty sure that she was kidding with this list. It was four pages long, a detailed list of all the things that needed to be done by the time she returned two weeks from now from her vacation.
"Good, that should keep you busy. But if you run out of things to do, I will send more tasks."

I laughed, but she just looked at me. I looked up, seeing someone approaching the door. "Have you met Curtis?" she asked, holding her hand out to him.
"Oh, My God! Curtis!" I smiled, and he walked towards me. I hadn't seen him since we had left processing in Houston.
"Nice to see you again. Are you on the team?" he asked, smiling.
"Yes!"
"You two know each other?" she inquires.
"Yes, she was with me in Houston," Curtis replies.

Good. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. At least I knew someone, something familiar. I relaxed a bit, still unsure, but ready to give it a try.

"Curtis can take you for a couple of days until you leave, and show you around," she instructs. I sensed my time with her was over. "Welcome aboard." I got up, thanking her, and walking into the hallway with Curtis.
"I'll show you my office. You'll want to take the one next door, you can look out the window and see the trees. These are the nicer views."

Each journey starts with one step. That seemed like so long ago. It all seems like so long ago now. We were hopeful, we were going to fix the problems and make things better for everyone. We were excited, and ready for a new challenge. We had no idea how this would turn out, but we had been hand picked, and were eager to see what we could do. Of course, that is what we thought at the time. Things are different now.


"You can't pay for anything on your last day," I said to him.
"Do you have money?" Curtis asks, reaching into his wallet and pulling out a hundred dollar bill.
"I've probably got enough," I said, reaching in, gathering a wad of one dollar bills, emptying my wallet. "But I can't let you pay."

We took our coffee drinks and our Cinnabons and went outside. It was hot, around 98, and only 9AM. We sat under the camouflage cover, and he began.
"This is so stupid."
"I know. What are you going to do?"
"I will head to Rome, then see if there is somewhere cheap to stay."
"Are you going to stay in Europe until October?" I ask.
"I don't know yet. Depends on how cheap things are. I'll head to Croatia with Tom, then see what happens."
"Email me if you want to go to Istanbul," I implored.

Istanbul had been a place that I needed to go. I needed to prove that I could go, after everything David had done to me. I needed to wipe my tears, get strong, and prove that I could do it. But I wasn't quite ready to do it alone. I really needed someone to travel with me. I knew I would be in tears. I knew what it would mean to stand at the Grand Bazaar alone, without him, without us. Curtis knew none of this. I couldn't tell him. It didn't seem to be important any more, just another lingering sadness in a long string.

Dave had left, and all the rest of the Team had blown to the wind. Some had positions in other countries, some had left the project for good. Curtis and I were the last ones still here in Baghdad. It was odd now, with him leaving. No one, not in a million years, suspected that I would be the survivor. In fact, I was probably the least likely to have made it this far, with my mouth, with my ability to anger people so easily. But here we were. Curtis had been fired, following weeks of management miscommunication, and was leaving the project in an hour. And I was staying behind.

"We should go," I said, as he picked at the last of his bun.
"Yup." We walked back to the car, and headed back to BTC. The sun was bright, as it always was. I felt defeated, sad, exhausted. It didn't seem quite real. There was no one left. No one.

We lined up on the porch for roll call. The security brief was long winded, as it always was, and consisted of someone droning on and on about all the ways we would get in trouble before even leaving the country. I ignored it, concentrating on something else so I wouldn't cry. I'd been crying alot lately.

They finally called his name, and we went down the stairs, gathering up his suitcases. "Jesus, what have you got in here?" I asked.
Laughing, "Just the usual stuff," he said, dragging the heavy suitcase down off the T wall.
"Curtis," I admonished, "You need to learn to pack light."


All winter we had travelled, visiting sites. I could pack all that I needed into a backpack and take off with little notice. Curtis never went anywhere without his huge black suitcase, stuffed to the gills. He was a small man, shorter than I am, and the suitcase stood navel high to him. I don't think he ever managed to actually lift it off the ground.

A week ago, he had decided that he would send most of his stuff home. They had been trying to transfer him to some busy-work job in Africa, into a tent and temperatures that cooled to 150. Since there was no one left to help him move, I had assisted with getting the three footlockers over to the post office. It damn near killed me. The things I do for friends. I damn near killed him when I found out later that he had diving equipment in the footlockers. Yes, diving equipment. Jesus.


He placed the suitcases into the truck bed, and walked toward the next line to get on the bus. I felt the tears, but couldn't explain why. As he went to the front of the line, he turned toward me. I reached out, and hugged him. "You be careful," I said, feeling the tears start to well up. "Let me know where you are. Keep in touch."
"I will. I will let you know when I get to Rome."
"Be careful." The tears started to fall. I tried to look away, but he saw. He looked surprised, and I wanted to say something, but didn't know how to explain the bonds of friendship, how they are forged, broken, cast aside in this insanity. I sensed that no one had expressed that kind of emotion to him, and I didn't want to fall apart. It was all I had been doing for months, all I could deal with since David had gone. I couldn't deal with any more agony. Yet here it was again. Another friend gone, another bond broken, and me left behind.

I turned away quickly, wiping the tears, and put on my sunglasses as I walked back to the car. But the time I had gotten there, I was sobbing. I sensed it had little to do with Curtis. Or maybe everything to do with Curtis. I didn't know. I couldn't tell any more. I got into the car, started the engine, and cried. The busses sat in the parking lot, and I wondered what it must feel like to be leaving this place, this God awful place of rules, hatred, death, and dust. The tears rolled down my cheeks, hot and salty. I could not stop them.

Alone again.