I stand in front of the seven-eleven long into the night. Why did it have to be me? Out of everyone in this dumb country, it had to be me, it had to be the guy who’s against it the most. I think they find the biggest hippies and purposely draft them so that they’re out of the country. Hell, I want out of this country, for sure, I just don’t want to go into Vietnam. It’s hell. I’m just going off of what I’ve heard, but it’s hell. The US feels the need to try and fix other country’s problems for them and we end up in shit like this.
“Matt!” Jennifer shouts. I turn around and she runs to me and embraces me. “Fuck you,” She whispers. “Thinking you can go to war without saying goodbye?”
“Sorry,” I say, grinning. “I guess Kevin told you, huh?”
“Yeah,” She says. “Matt?”
“Yeah, Jen?”
“Don’t…” Her voice starts breaking. “Don’t go.”
“I have to-“
“Please. Leave the country if you have to, but just… just don’t go to ‘Nam.”
“I… I’ll think about it.” She doesn’t say anything else, just nods and kisses me on the cheek before turning away and trying to wipe the tears from her face. “Jen…” She shakes her head and turns to me. “Please… just…” That’s all she can bring herself to say. She walks away.
She’s right, I could just bail. Head up to Canada or down to Mexico. They wouldn’t come after me, they don’t care about someone else that much. They’d just draft someone else, and someone else’s son, someone else’s friend would be taken. Which is exactly why I can’t leave. Yes, other people will still be drafted, but I won’t have to be replaced. It would… it would just be against my morals.
There’s still someone I want to talk to. I pace the seven eleven parking lot, going through cig after cig after cig. I finally pull a quarter out of my pocket, walk over to the payphone, and rest my fist on the side. This has to be done, Matt. Man up and do it. I slide the quarter into the slot and dial her number.
Dial tone. Dial tone. Dial tone. Dial tone. Dial tone. “Hello?” Her voice comes across the line, almost bringing a tear to my eye.
“Yeah, uh, hey…”
“What do you want, Matt?” She says, and before I can open my mouth, she starts talking again. “No, I don’t care what you want. I don’t want to talk to you, you no good, heart breaking bastard, running around thinking you can do whatever you want and not care about what it does to other people, you selfish little –“
“I got drafted.” She stops mid sentence and falls completely silent. “I got fuckin’ drafted, Steph.”
“Oh God, Matt, I…” She doesn’t say anything for a while. “When do you leave?”
“Six AM tomorrow.”
“Where are you?”
“The Seven-Eleven.”
“I’m on my way.”
Dial Tone. Dial Tone. Dial Tone. Dial Tone. Dial Tone.
She pulls into the parking lot, gets out and runs into my arms. “I’m sorry,” She says. “I’m so sorry, Matt.”
“It’s fine, Stephanie,” I say. “It’s fine.” She pulls back from me and we kiss. We stand in the Seven-Eleven parking lot until one in the morning, holding each other and kissing. For all we know, it’ll be the last time we see each other.
Now and then, I wonder when I’ll get to see her again.
YOU ARE READING
Now And Then
Historical FictionA group of kids in the sixties, living normal lives, get shaken up when their hippy friend becomes drafted. This story explores what it's like to both have your friend drafted and be drafted while being part of the anti-war movement.
