Page 12 - Tank

“This is not a story with a happy ending,”

Matt said. His eyes still on the T.V. as Annabelle moved back to Tank. Took his
hand. The same one Tank used to grab the Humvee’s moving wheel. A hand
without fingers anymore.
"Annabelle,” Matt said. Looked over at the girl’s mom. Looked back into the
happy eyes of Annabelle. Matt unsure why this young girl was so happy. “I must
tell you again, this is not a happy story. It does not have a happy ending. It will
make you cry. It will make me cry and your momma too. Do you still want to hear
it?"
Annabelle nodded. Patted Tank’s hand. Scooted her chair closer to Tank's hospital
bed. The only sound anyone heard were the machines hooked up to Tank.
"Let me start with Tank’s name," Matt said quietly. "The name on his birth
certificate is Edward Arthur Mallory.”
A name placed on Tank’s birth records by a kind nurse. The name had nothing to
do with him or his family. The nurse thought it would give Tank something to be
proud of. It certainly made the nurse proud.
The nurse knew what so many in her ward didn’t like to talk about. The babies of
drug addicts rarely survived. Those who were abandoned like Tank had even less of
a chance.
“Tank’s real momma was a prostitute,” Matt said. Looked away from the young
girl’s eyes. “Do you know what this is?”
Matt didn’t need to look to know the girl did. This young girl knew far more
than her eleven years should. It was easy to read the girl. She was an old soul inside
a young body.
He continued the story. Told Annabelle how Tank’s momma used drugs to
deaden her existence. To make the misery of her life better. A woman Tank never
knew. She left him at the hospital the minute she saw his misshapen body.
"Tank never hated his momma for leaving him,” Matt said. Told the girl neither
of them hated their mothers. They never knew them. Why hate someone you never
knew when there were others much closer to hate. Others who hurt you.
Annabelle just smiled. Beamed at Matt. She said nothing. Her mom however,
gasped.
"That's horrible,” Annabelle’s mother blurted out. The rage over any woman
abandoning their child all over the woman’s face. A woman whose name Matt
never caught. A name he didn’t really care about. All he seemed to care about was
Annabelle.
“He talks to his Momma,” Annabelle said. Her voice small. Her eyes on Tank as
he gurgled.
Annabelle wiped the nastiness off Tank’s face. Eased the ventilator a little. Petted
his face. It was easy to see the way she comforted his friend. Easy to see Tank rested
easier with the girl close.
"You caught that did you?" Matt replied.