I was traveling on business to a college town just before the Christmas Holidays. As usual I was unable to sleep in unfamiliar surroundings. I would lie down but any sleep was restless and the nightmares would return. From the overgrown jungle in my mind would come the sounds of war; the sounds of people screaming and crying. Sounds I had tried to forget for many years.
I got dressed and drove to one of those franchise diners/restaurants. I was drinking bitter coffee and working on the crossword when I heard the singsong language from my days as a soldier. I looked up and saw in the booth next to me three coeds. They were counting out change trying to figure out what they could afford to eat. The one coed facing me brought back memories of that war that were almost pleasant.
Like many other GI’s I had a local lady friend. A couple hundred MPC (Military Pay Certificates) a month gave me a place away from the military to spend a few hours. She and I both knew it was strictly a business arrangement. It kept her off the street and gave her some amount of respect. I would bring her books. She was an avid reader. She could practice her English and I could practice the local language. The arrangement was beneficial to both of us.
When it came time for me to leave country we promised to stay in touch but I was a lousy letter writer and really didn’t expect to hear from her. I left her enough to get by for a couple of months until she could find another boyfriend. About two years after I left the country had fallen back to the communists and I often wondered how she fared.
One day I got a letter from her. It had taken about 4 months to catch up with me. In the letter perfectly penned in English she told me that she was working for a school as a cook. She also told me that I was a father. She said she was pregnant when I left and that she had had a daughter. She reminded me that I had promised if there was anything I do for her all she had to do was let me know. She made a request for money, not for her but for the young girl so she could go to good schools and to pay the bribes necessary to get and keep her in school. She had already checked and the best way for me to get any monies to her was through international banks. She had opened a small account at a local branch of a Hong Kong Bank and I could deposit monies to any of their branches.
Although I had been gone two years she must have remembered how stubborn I was, because then she wrote and said it would be like me to try to get them both out of the country. She said there was no need she was happy there and safe. It was like she was reading my mind. I went ahead and set up an allotment to go to the bank monthly for her and “my daughter”. The letter had no return address and I figured once the money was going to her I would not hear from her again, but I was wrong.
About every three months I would get a letter forwarded through the bank. In the letters she would catch me up on the latest news about “our daughter” and in some she would enclose photographs of herself and the girl. She never mentioned the girl’s name. This went on for about 15 years, then one month I got a letter from the bank. Enclosed in the letter was a check for the amount of my allotment and a letter. In her letter she told me that she had recently become a Christian and as such could no longer lie to me. She said the girl was a result of a one-night stand after I left country and that she wasn’t my daughter but all the money I sent did go to the support and care of the girl. That the girl was going to go to the university. She had closed the account at the bank and told me they would get by without my help but that the help I had given was appreciated. She offered to try to repay me. She apologized over and over for deceiving me into thinking I had a daughter. Every time I read her apology was like a knife sticking me. I had never told her that as the result of loose parachute harness I could never have kids. I knew the girl was not “my” daughter but I suppose I was trying to repay in some small the hurt I caused others while I was there. Or maybe I was trying to soothe my conscience. For what ever reason it was like the loss of a relative.
As I opened my wallet to pay my bill I saw the last picture I had received of “my” daughter. I looked at it and looked at the young coed. They could have been twins. I could feel the tears building. I made my way to the register and paid my bill. Then I asked for the bill for the coed’s table. I paid it and gave the waitress a tip. She asked me what to tell them when they asked who paid the bill. I said, “Just tell them that one of them reminded me of my daughter and it is almost Christmas”. I made it to the car before the tears started falling and drove slowly back to the motel.
