[Winter Contest Entry 2018] Another Battle

“You know what? You look an awful lot like that Leavitt fellow.”

It took a moment for the unfamiliar voice of the bearded man sitting across from me to register. I’d nodded off shortly after leaving the train station at the capital and had only woken up minutes ago, tracks still rumbling beneath my feet. I gazed out the window next to my seat and was surprised to see the lake going off into the distance. I’d managed to sleep through most of the five-hour ride. I felt a flutter of nervousness at the realization of how close I was but squashed it.

“Do you really think so?” I said at last, somewhat amused. This wasn’t the first time this had happened.

“Like you leapt straight off the pages of a newspaper,” the bearded man exclaimed. He wore a yellow vest over a plain white shirt. The silver chain of a pocket watch gleamed in the afternoon light coming in through the windows.

I rubbed my hand on my chin, feeling stubborn whiskers already growing back. “Would you say it’s the hair or the nose that does it? Or maybe the eyes.”

“No, I’m telling you, you look just like him!”

By now I’d attracted the attention of a few other passengers close by. They spoke amongst each other, not bothering much to hide what they were saying.

“Ryan Leavitt?” one of them asked. “The war hero?”

“You mean the one who stormed that bunker by himself?”

“Which other one would I be talking about? How many Leavitts do you think there are?”

“My cousin said he knew one once . . .”

“And what would he be coming out here for anyhow?”

They looked to me now, expectantly. Having so many pairs of eyes on me at once might have intimidated me several years ago, but I was used to it now.

“Beats me,” I said. “I’m not him, so hell if I know.” I stretched, feeling a bone pop in my back. “I’ll take it as a compliment though. I wouldn’t mind being a hero.”

This received a few laughs followed by most of them going back to their business, all except the bearded man. “I was at the parade after the war ended,” he said. “I caught a glimpse of him in person.”

“I was there too. Nice parade. Doesn’t quite take the edge off though.”

“Did you . . . lose someone?”

“A few someones.” It didn’t take much to recall the fighting, all the shouting and deafening gunshots and explosions, the smell of dirt, blood, and smoke.

“What extraordinarily terrible luck, sir. You have my condolences.”

“Luck didn’t have much to do with it,” I said, turning my eyes back to the scenery rolling by the window. The town was already in sight.

The horn blared as we pulled into the station, coming to a slow stop. At a town that size, “station” might have been a bit generous of a word. It was little more than a covered platform and a ticket booth. I stepped out amid the handful of other passengers who’d made the trip with me, my single case of luggage in hand. I looked out onto the steps that led onto a street still paved with cobblestone unlike the asphalt of the city.

There wasn’t a trace of wind. It would have been a nice day if it wasn’t so cold. I checked my pocket watch. Still time to get there before dark.

After asking for directions to a carriage house, I set out into town. I hadn’t been there in some time. It was much as I remembered although it had expanded some. I wondered if my hometown would be the same way. As I walked, I recalled the reason I was there, the letter I’d gotten from my sister.

Dear Brother,

I wish I had better news to give you this time, but I’ll get straight to the point. Mom isn’t doing well. Her condition’s only gotten worse since last time I wrote to you. Please, if you don’t come soon I fear you might not be able to see her again. The doctor’s doing everything he can, but it’s not enough. Please stop being so stubborn. She set aside what happened between you two a long time ago. She doesn’t care about that anymore. Dad and I miss you too. Damn it, don’t make me beg. The doctor’s not giving her til the end of winter. This isn’t me exaggerating. When I say you need to come now, I mean it. We’ll have your old room ready and a warm fire waiting for you.

When I had returned to my apartment and found the envelope waiting for me, I had expected one of her more typical letters. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I probably should have been overcome with grief, or satisfaction if I hated her. I found myself dragged down mostly by unease. You might laugh at a grown man and a soldier at that fearing a visit to his dying mother, but it was hard not to picture her as I last saw her, consumed with rage.

I knew my sister meant well, but if my mother really had forgiven me, then why wasn’t she writing any letters to me? Why was it still only my sister? Was she too sick to do even that now? I had my suspicions, but there I was in the countryside I used to call home.

I found the carriage house without trouble. Unlike the ones in the city that held dozens of carriages, it was big enough for three or four at most. After haggling the price down to something more reasonable, I slid a couple of coins across the countertop. I waited out front and was met with a carriage ready to go.

“Need any help with your luggage, sir?” the driver asked.

“I can manage,” I said. Before getting in, I approached one of the horses, letting it sniff my palm before patting it on the neck. To the carriage house’s credit, the horse was well-groomed.

The driver smiled. “I see you know a thing or two about horses.”

“I’ve been around a few in my day,” I said as I opened the door and climbed in. I got to ride some as a kid and had been around them in the army. And in the parade celebrating our victory, they put me on one practically at the front.

“To what do I have the pleasure of calling you?”

“Ryan, Ryan Leavitt.”

“Hah! Just like that hero, eh?”

“Yeah, imagine that.”

We left the carriage house and it wasn’t long before we put the town behind us, the cobbles turning to dirt beneath the hooves of the horses.




I didn’t intentionally become a war hero. It kind of just happened. When you’re in a fight, you don’t have much time to think. You do as you’re told and you do what you have to in order to stay alive. The rest is all a roll of the dice. In that charge on the bunker in that desolate wasteland, machine-gun fire tearing through the air around us, I didn’t know the rest of my squad was dead until I was halfway there. I had a split-second image of me turning around and getting gunned down, and I kept on charging ears ringing. When I emerged from the bunker, I did so without knowing that my life would never be quite the same again.

As the sun crawled down, so did the temperature. I pulled my coat a little closer around me, repressing a shiver. There wasn’t much to see on the ride over. Nothing but farmland. We passed a couple of wagons and another carriage going in the opposite direction.

It was nearly completely dark by the time we made it to the hills the town was nestled in. I spotted it more by its lights than anything else. I gave the driver directions, and he took me the house.

I climbed down from the carriage and shook the driver’s hand. “It’s been a pleasure,” I said.

“It was a pleasure driving you.” He disappeared into the night after that, likely going to an inn rather than driving back.

I didn’t go inside. I stared at the house from the street. Both its front windows were lit up. It was just as I remembered it, a squat little thing that seemed so small in comparison to the twelve-story apartment building I lived in now. I ran my hand across one of the posts of the fence that surrounded it, feeling the rough wood.

A figure appeared in the window to my right, probably drawn by the noise of the carriage. I couldn’t tell who it was. We remained almost still for I don’t know how long, staring at each other. At last, the figure in the window vanished. A moment later, they opened the door, immediately rubbing their shoulders against the cold.

“Is there something I can help you with . . .” she trailed off. Her voice was definitely that of a young woman. It was familiar yet changed at the same time. My sister Maria.

A grin slipped onto my face despite myself. “I don’t know, maybe.”

Maria took several steps closer. “Ryan?” She hugged me with enough force that I dropped my travel case.

“You’ve gotten taller,” I said.

“Idiot. That’s the first thing you say to me after all this time?”

“That’s the second thing actually. Idiot.”

She let go and took a good look at me. She had the auburn hair we’d both inherited from our father and a pair of blue eyes from our mother. She wore a simple dress, but it didn’t detract from her appearance. She’d grown into a fine young woman.

“You’ve gotten so pretty,” I said. “The guys must be giving you no end of trouble.”

Maria blushed, barely visible in the poor light. “Do you remember Simon?” The name conjured up an image of a black-haired kid two years my junior, not the brightest but honest and hard-working. “Me and him are . . .”

My eyes widened. “You’re married?”

Maria did her best impression of a fish out of water. “N-no! We’re uh, we’re pretty serious though.”

“Congratulations.” I was going to give her another hug when a tall figure took up the door frame.

“Maria? What’s going on out here?”

My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t have to get a good look at the man to know he’d hardly changed at all. He stood up completely straight without any sign of a stoop, clean-shaven, his hair kept short and tidy. A lot like mine nowadays. Huh.

“Dad,” I said.

“You actually came,” he said, but he didn’t sound the least bit surprised. “Come on, don’t stand out there in the cold. What’s wrong with you two?”

I felt dumb at our father’s words, and so did Maria it seemed. We both jumped to hurry inside. I was at the door when I remembered my luggage and went back to pick it up. Maria looked like she was about to laugh until I silenced her with a glare. She settled for a knowing smile.

“You must be tired after your trip,” Father said. True to Maria’s word, there was a fire going in the fireplace radiating warmth. Our father tossed a fresh log in, sending up a shower of sparks. I set my case down and held my hands up to the flames to let them soak up the heat.

“A little weary, I’ll admit,” I said.

“Would you reheat what’s left of dinner for your brother?” Father asked Maria.

She went and did it without comment, disappearing through the empty doorway into the kitchen.

I stayed at the fireplace, aware that our father was watching me, studying me. I wanted to turn to him and say something, but my mind drew a blank. I watched the way the firelight danced on my hands instead. I was a grown man who’d killed with those hands, but I still found my old man intimidating. I could count the number of times I’d disobeyed him with my fingers.

“Not much seems to have changed around here,” I said. I didn’t get a good look of the town, but everything about the house so far was the same as always. The old sofa hadn’t been replaced and neither had our father's chair. The carpet over the floorboards still had its red and white pattern. Speaking of floorboards . . . I put my weight on one in particular to my right. It squeaked as I knew it would.

“A far cry from the city I’ll bet,” Father said.

The fire was doing its job and warming me up, but I could already tell that it wasn’t as warm there as it would have been back at my apartment. It still lacked electricity too; there weren't any electric lights, that was for sure. Aside from the fireplace, several candles were lit. From the kitchen, the sound of sizzling accompanied by the smell of meat frying drifted in.

“It’s . . . comforting,” I said. “You can’t say that about most places in the city.”

“Everything’s going well I assume.”

“Well enough.”

“Have you met anyone special yet?”

I’d been having an on-and-off relationship with someone for the past two years, but my father wouldn’t have approved of something so loose. “Not yet . . .”

We went on like that for a bit, him asking me questions and me giving short answers. I couldn’t help but feel awkward, but I couldn’t think of anything to talk about. My mind was drawing a blank. He didn’t ask me about my time in the army. I couldn’t tell if he was doing it out of consideration for me or not.

“Food’s ready,” Maria said, stepping back in.

“Thanks,” I said, but as I sat down at the table in front of the only plate there, I found I didn’t have much of an appetite. I took a couple of bites of a piece of chicken that had been fried with salt in butter, fork scraping against the plate. That too was the same. It was part of a porcelain set our mother’s mother had bought for her when she married our father.

“How’s Mom?” I asked, the topic we’d all been avoiding. They'd joined me at the table.

Maria stayed silent, so our father answered. “The doctor stopped by this morning. He said her condition hasn’t changed.”

“So she hasn’t gotten worse.”

“She stays in bed most days now.” He blinked. “I don’t want to accept it, but there’s only so long you can stay optimistic.”

My throat tightened seeing our father so . . . vulnerable. Maybe it was because I’d only heard about it in my sisters’ letters until now, but there was something about our mother’s sickness that hadn’t sunk in before. Hearing it in person from our father’s mouth killed any hopes I still clung too.

“Didn’t think I’d know you were here?”

Our heads all turned as those words filled the cramped room.

“Mom!” I said, not being able to help myself. She entered the room from the hall, dressed in her nightgown. Her hair stuck to her forehead with dried sweat. She’d never had very dark skin, but even in the firelight I could tell her skin was far too pale to be healthy.

Our father was up at once and at her side. “You should be resting.”

“You thought you could just come back like nothing happened and I’d welcome you back with open arms?” she asked, ignoring our father.

I froze, halfway out of my seat. “What do you mean?”

“You have some nerve. You could have come back at any time and you wait until now, unannounced? The least you could have done was written and told me you were on your own way!”

“I don’t understand. In the letter from--” Maria. She really had been lying. Our mother gave a dark glance at my sister who at least had the decency to blush.

“Hold on,” Father said, “you’re not being very fair. She only meant well.”

“And you were in on it too,” Mother rasped. “Of course you were.” She coughed into her hand.

“Mom, come on,” Maria said, evidently having had enough. Her hands were folded on her lap, gripping her dress. “Can’t you put the past aside?”

“Why should I?” Mother said between coughs. “After everything I did for him, and he threw it all aside.” Our father began leading her back down the hall. “And for what? To try and get himself killed in some pointless war?”

I slammed my hand down on the table, rattling the plate. Everyone grew silent and looked at me. “It’s true. Nothing has changed around here, has it? I put my life on the line to protect you and this whole damn country and you can’t even show me a shred of gratitude. What the fuck did I come back here for?”

I stormed out the backdoor, not bothering to grab my coat. Maria called after me, but it wasn’t long before her voice was drowned out by the night.




It didn’t take long to reach the outskirts of town on foot. I wasn’t about to walk back to the train station although the idea did hold some appeal at that moment. It would have been better than sticking around there. Even in the dark, I found the old oak tree I used to hang around at. The moon and stars were enough.

I didn’t dare test the weight of the higher branches so I settled for one of the lower ones. I regretted not bringing my coat, but I wasn’t in the mood to go back for it. If I had to stay another minute in that house, I was sure I’d suffocate.

Why was I there, I asked again. I’d traveled a few hundred miles to do what? Yell at my dying mother and spend the night out in the cold?

What was her problem? Our father hadn’t been happy about my decision to join the army either, but he’d accepted it. Seven years. The war had been over for four. Why couldn’t she move on?

A shadow approached me in the darkness. For a fraction of a second, I thought it was our mother but I quickly dismissed the idea. It was too short to be our father. That left only one option. Maria wore a coat of her own and in her arm was mine.

“I thought you might want this,” she said from the ground.

I dropped down, landing at a slight crouch. “How’d you know I was here?” I wanted to be alone but I took the coat from her, grateful nonetheless.

“Oh please, where else would you go?” she asked.

“Good point.”

To my surprise, Maria didn’t try to get me to come back. Instead she stayed with me under the tree. Rather than climb back up, we sat with our backs to the trunk. After awhile I began to appreciate her company.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“It’s like Dad said. You meant well enough.”

“Even so, I probably shouldn’t have done it.”

“Probably,” I agreed. A little bit of moonlight found us through the leaves of the tree.

“You’re supposed to comfort me,” Maria said. “No wonder you don’t have anyone special yet.”

I snorted. “You were listening in on my conversation with Dad?”

“Of course I was. Be lucky I saved you from that with the food.”

“Hey Maria, you’ve been around our parents this whole time. What’s up with Mom? I wasn’t so sure she’d welcome me back with open arms, but I wasn’t expecting this either.”

“Did you stop to think that maybe you’re at fault too? You didn’t handle the situation back there so well either.”

I sighed. “Damn it, you’re right.” Our mother may have been acting unreasonable, but that didn’t give me a reason to do the same. It sure didn’t help matters. “Does she really hate me?”

“No,” she said without hesitation.

“Does she hate the things I’ve done? I guess I can’t blame her.” I held my hand up to a splotch of moonlight. “You know what they say about me right? The war hero? And you know how I got that title. Right? All the lives I’ve taken with these hands . . .” In my head, the soft moonlight on my hand was replaced with blood congealing in the brisk air.

“No, of course not,” Maria said. “She could never.” She had both her knees pressed against her chest with her arms wrapped around them.

“I find that hard to believe after what she said.”

“There’s something I want to show you when we get back. It’ll be easier if you just see it with your own eyes.”

I wanted to raise another objection, but I let it slide. “If you say so.”

With the two of out there like that, if I closed my eyes it was almost like I was a teenage boy again. I clung to that idea and wanted for it to be real, more than I’d like to admit. How nice it would have been to not have anything to worry about except some schoolwork assignment or what some cute girl thought of me.

I stood up and stretched. My sister opened her eyes and raised her head from her knees. I held my hand out to her. “What do you say we go back?”

She accepted my hand with a smile. “About time.”

We started making our way back home.

“Remember that time we sneaked out at night to meet up with Simon and the others?” Maria asked.

I smiled, shaking my head. “You mean that time Dad nearly spanked us both bloody?”

Maria gave a sharp laugh. “Yeah, that time.”

“And Kyle dared Simon to sneak up from behind and kiss you.” I’d forgotten all about it until now. The memory that usually stuck in my head from that night was how sore my ass was when I went to bed.

“I thought he’d hold a grudge against me forever after how hard I slapped him.”

“He had it coming. Who’d have thought you two would wind up together?”

“I told you it’s nothing official yet! Mom and Dad were supposed to meet with his parents to talk things over, but they kept delaying it because of her health . . .”

We went silent at that. It was nearly eight by the time we reached the back door.

“Don’t forget about what I wanted to show you,” Maria said. “Hold on while I . . .” She trailed off as something else took her attention. I spotted it the same time she did. The front door was wide open. Down the hall, the door to our parents’ room was ajar too.

We hurried down the hall and burst into their room. Our father was nowhere to be seen. Our mother lay in bed with a fresh sheen of sweat covering her face, her breathing shallow.

“Mom!” Maria cried. We both ran to her side.

Without thinking, I took her hand in both of mine. “Everything’s going to be okay! You’re going to be just fine!” My mind worked, trying to figure out where our father was. Of course. “The doctor’s on his way.”

“Dear, is that you?” Her heard turned toward me, but I could tell she wasn’t truly looking at me. Her eyes were unfocused.

My heart hammed in my ears. She thought I was our father. “I’m here,” I whispered. “I’m here,” I repeated, putting more force into it.

“I’m sorry, but I think this is as far as I go.”

“Mom, don’t say that,” Maria said, choking up. “The doctor will be here any minute now.”

A wane smile spread slowly across our mother’s lips as if it took the last of her strength. It went right through me. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her hand went limp in mine.

Maria sniffed, crying.

We were still at her bedside when heavy footfalls sounded behind us, coming to an abrupt stop.




About half the town showed up for the funeral. One by one, our mother’s friends payed their respects and drifted away. In the end, the only people left were me, Maria, our father, and Simon. After exchanging words with Maria too quiet for me to hear, he left too, head down.

Snow drifted down in lazy flakes from an overcast sky. By the end of the hour, it was already beginning to accumulate in clumps on the ground. I read the engraving on the tombstone for the hundredth time, but it still didn’t seem real.

At last, I couldn’t bear it any longer. “I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?” I said. “I couldn’t give her a simple apology.” The truth was, I know for a fact I never would have forgiven myself if I’d backed down seven years ago and didn’t leave. That didn’t matter now though. Regardless of how I felt, even if it was a lie, just for one moment, I couldn’t have told my mother I was wrong and given her what she wanted?

“Don’t say that,” Father said. “You’re a great person, and a great son.”

It was a nice sentiment, but it wasn’t going to do our mother any good. I’d only brought her my pain and grief in the end. I couldn’t give her a single measure of happiness.

The three of us went back together. When we had a fire going, our father put on some tea. I fell into a chair at the table. None of us said anything. The only sound was that of the kettle whistling. Then Maria nearly jumped out of her chair.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” She vanished down the hall. I watched her, vaguely curious. She returned seconds later with what appeared to be a photo album. “This is what I wanted to show you before.”

I took it from her and set it before me. The cover was plain and unadorned. I flipped to the first page. It was an old newspaper article declaring the start of the war. The next page detailed the first conflict. The whole album was full of articles about the war. Halfway through, I found the first one focusing specifically on my exploits. That one in particular had the top corner bent to mark it.

“Even if she didn’t like what you did,” Maria said, “even if she was always worried sick, she was proud of you.”

Fresh tears threatened to fall from the corners of my eyes. I was such an idiot. She had forgiven me, but it still didn’t change the fact that I never apologized to her.

“I think she knew all along,” Father said as if reading my mind. “It’s a mother’s job to know what her children are thinking, after all.”

I nodded. “She was smiling. It wasn’t the face of someone leaving with regrets.” I closed the album and passed it across the table to Maria.




Two days later as my family accompanied me back to the train station, everything was covered in sheet of white snow. I’d argued there was no need for them to come that far with me. I lost, go figure.

I hadn’t expected Simon to come with us either. As other passengers boarded the train I stopped to say goodbye one last time.

“Try to stop by more often in the future,” Father said.

I smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.” To Maria and Simon, I said, “Take good care of her.”

Simon wrapped an arm around her and held her tight. “You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Maria’s face went a deep shade of red. “Please, as if I need looking after. You’re the one who needs someone.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” I said. It’d be nice to finally settle down if I found the right person.

As the train rolled out of the station, I couldn’t help but look out the window. The three of them waved after me until they shank into nothing and the station and town along with them. I thought about all that had happened in the past week and sadness grew within me until it threatened to overwhelm me. I swallowed it and forced a smile onto my lips. If our mother could do it, so could I. By the time I nodded off, I found it fit there pretty easily.