Hands up, Cowboy

P A R T . O N E

Massachusetts, 2004

The autumn air was hot and thick. Beads of sweat were aggressively cascading down my face, dripping onto my rifle. My eyes were heavy and bleeding, my body ached and my brain was pulsating. My weapon was locked tight to my chest, its long barrel pointed south with deadly intention. The woodland was vast, which made it an ideal place to disappear. My spot was perfect. Buried beneath a hefty pile of broken sticks and autumn leaves, I became invisible.

Sharp snaps and loud pops echoed in the distance. “The enemy is approaching,” I mumbled to myself. With a subtle wiggle of my right foot, I signaled my partner who was positioned a couple of yards to my right. From a similar pile of broken sticks and mud coated leaves, I heard a high pitched whistle - confirmation that he too heard the approaching threat. The two of us, along with one other who was guarding our rear perimeter line, were tasked with defending the woodland’s only remaining pear tree from the ravenous scavengers - all ready and willing to lay down our lives if needed. Keeping myself as quiet and as still as possible, I made another visual scan of the woods. Panning left to right, I peered through the small lenses of the binoculars dangling from my neck. I saw movement. About twenty yards away, the trees and their dark shadows all seemed to be dancing, “what the heck?”

Before I could alert my partner of the flanking shadow figures, a sharp pain poked at my spine, followed by a familiar yet commanding voice, “Hands up, cowboy!”

Keeping both of my palms visible, I surrendered my position. With my hands raised to the sky, I emerged from the pile of leaves like a bear coming out of hibernation. I laid down my weapon as my mind raced to find a way out of this sticky situation. Standing a foot in front of me, with her tree-branch-rifle pointed at my chest, was Maggie. With a sinister grin plastered across her mud-stained face, she flicked her pointer finger three times, “Bang! Bang! Bang!”

“I shot you three times! Fall down! Those are the rules of the woodland, Ian!”

She stood firm, feet thoroughly planted into the earth. Her hazel eyes penetrated through the red-framed glasses, never breaking contact with mine - commanding me. Her olive skin was hidden beneath thick layers of mud-coated clothes, and her buzzed head was concealed by a red and black bandana. Maggie’s lips began to part, signaling that she was about to holler another command. But before she could, the pain from the three shots finally made their presence known. I screamed out in horrible agony as I began choking on the hot blood. My legs gave out and I fell backwards into the pile of sticks and leaves. After a few moments of pathetic gurgles and compulsive twitches, my heart finally stopped and I drifted off into oblivion.

“Bravo! Bravo! What a death,” Maggie said.

Maggie dropped her tree branch and began to give applause. Her warming laughter quickly filled the voids of the woods, ending the great battle of the pear tree. The ravenous squad of hungry scavengers were the victors and got to collect as many pears as they could carry.

Maggie stepped over to where I had fallen, and reached out her hand. Returning from the dead, I stretched out my arm and clasped my hand to hers.

“Good battle, soldier,” Maggie said.

“Well fought, scum,” I replied.

With one strong tug, I am brought to my feet. With the force of the pull, I land only inches away from her face. I am close enough to see the galaxies in her hazel eyes, and I can feel her breath on my lips. I had never kissed anyone before, but I wanted to kiss Maggie. Attempting a subtle sway to get even closer, her left knee found my thigh. Instant charley horse. I am now screaming for real this time. The cramping pain shot down my entire leg, rendering it near useless. She let out a flirtatious giggle, then squeezed my body tight with a bear hug.

“You’re cute, Ian. But not my type,” Maggie said sharply.

She carried a small, black backpack with a large broken-heart patch ironed on the front. She got down on one knee and scrambled through her pack. Removing a large pear from her bounty as the victor of the woodland, and a pocket knife, she stood back up and began carving. I stepped towards her, trying to get a closer look at what she was tattooing into the flesh of the pear. She pounded her shoulder into me then jerked her body around, concealing her masterpiece with her arms.

Off in the distance, a booming voice shouted out Maggie’s name. Her neck craned towards the voice then back to me. Offering me a smile and a wink, she turned around and ran towards the voice. As she made her escape, my voice finally found the courage.

“What is your type?”

“Not you,” she yelled back, giggling with every step.

Before reaching the tree line of the woodland, she stopped running and turned back to face me one final time. Her left arm cocked back then whipped forward.

“Catch!”

From a good twenty yards away, Maggie tossed me one of the pears she collected from the tree. As it soared through the air, my eyes caught movement, Maggie was gone. Distracted by her disappearance, I forgot about the incoming projectile. Looking up at the last second, I was able to get a close up of the green pear as it collided with my face. With enough force to knock me back a step, I couldn’t help but smile through the pain. My nose throbbed, possibly broken, but all I could do was smile. Being only twelve years old, I had never been in love nor known what love was. But Maggie had always been different. She was fourteen, so maybe it was because she was older. It always made my friends jealous that an older girl thought I was cool, and that made me feel like I was king of the world.

As the pain from my face faded, I searched the ground for the pear. Finding it a foot beside me, trying to hide beneath a copper maple leaf, I picked it up and studied the markings. Engraved across the front of the golden pear were two letters and two words.

U R MY TYPE

As the words dissolved into my heart, I saw my first glimpse into the realm of love. My heart began racing, the woodland went quiet, and I faded into the moment. Breaking my reverie with a large hand, Justin whacked the back of my skull with force.

“Mission failure, soldier,” Justin commanded.

Standing five inches taller than me at a stalky six-feet, Maggie’s older brother and one of my woodland army team members, stared down at me with his right hand latched to my shoulder. He was seventeen, one year away from enlistment, and loved all things military. The war of the woodland and the battle for the pear tree had been his creations. I had no interest in joining the military, but I knew that Maggie sometimes joined in on the battles, so when she finally asked me to play, I jumped on the opportunity.

“Don’t fall in love, soldier,” Justin said.

“Who said anything about love?”

“I can see it in your eyes. The way you smiled after she kneed you in the thigh. Then when she hit you in the face with that pear, you smiled again. That’s love, kid. And it’s dangerous."

“I’m just her friend. She doesn’t actually like me. She can’t. I’m only twelve. She’s fourteen and popular. Why would she waste her time with a seventh grader when she's about to go to high school?”

“Yeah, about that. Maggie won’t be starting at the normal time this year.”

“What do you mean? Why not?”

“She’ll be in the hospital for at least two weeks then she’ll need to recover at home for another two-to-three more weeks. After that, if she seems strong enough, then she can go to school. But that is a big if,” Justin said trembling.

“It’s back?”

“And it’s stronger this time. Spreading faster.”

The words struggled to find their way out. I had known that Maggie was sick, she had been battling cancer since the age of ten. But she beat it. Last summer, during my first battle for the pear tree, she told me that she had beaten her cancer. She told me that she was free to be a kid again. Hearing Justin speak the words, It’s back, destroyed my entire world. Her head was shaved again, but I thought it was to celebrate her struggle and survival, and it helped her with her camouflage during the woodland battles. But it wasn’t that at all. It was the radiation. I looked up and attempted to make eye contact with Justin, luckily for me he was already looking at me. We share a moment of grieving silence, then my lips part and I start to speak.

Quickly cutting me off, Justin latched both hands onto my shoulders and offered me peace.

“She knows, Ian.”

Those three words hit home, hard. My gut started to ache and my spine began to tighten. As I slowly imploded, Justin turned and headed in the same direction as his sister. I quickly found myself laying on the ground, my clothes absorbing the moisture from the wet earth and muddy leaves. I stared through the autumn canopy, and watched the clouds collide, shift and change. I then thought of how my life was about to do the same. Maggie was sick again, and my heart was breaking.

The following school year was the hardest of my life.

P A R T . T W O

Twelve months later

The autumn air was even hotter this year. Except this time I had a large water bottle to keep me hydrated, and a Boston Red Sox ball cap to shade my face from the sun. Making my way through the local forest, I spotted my target. Soaking up the sun in the center of a small clearing, was a familiar friend. The pear tree was ripe with bounty. Its branches were adorned with countless green and copper orbs. Approaching the tree, I stretched out my arm and reached for one of the low-hanging pears. Plucking a fat one from the branch, I used my shirt to wipe away any bacteria, found a cozy pile of leaves to lounge in, took a large bite, and studied the clouds. The woodland was quiet. There were no snaps, no pops, no whistles and no enemies. Justin had gone off to bootcamp for the Marines back in January. He was now in California, preparing for his first deployment. With him gone, there was no one to orchestrate the woodland WARS, which meant there would be no battle for the pear tree. With nothing but the guts of the pear remaining, I tossed it aside and closed my tired eyes. Thinking of Maggie, I let myself fade into blackness.

That school year had been the longest of my life. Maggie was constantly checking in and out of the hospital. I think she only made it into school two days the entire year. My brother was in her grade and he told me that the two times he had seen her, she looked like death. He wasn’t a cruel brother, but hearing him speak those words was the cruelest truth he had ever given me.

A week before Christmas, Maggie’s mother called my mother and granted me permission to visit her in the hospital. When I stepped through the heavy doors of her room, I barely recognized the girl who had stolen my heart. She looked beyond tired and her olive skin was pale, but she was just as beautiful as ever. She cracked inappropriate jokes and offered me a couple of friendly jabs in the thigh. I brought her favorite flowers and her favorite snack, coral colored peonies and warm banana bread from the local bakery. My visit was cut short due to medical complications. The alien machines in the room started blaring and setting off alarms. Maggie's face stayed strong, but I could feel mine disintegrating. Her father, quickly followed by her mother and a gang of doctors bursted into the room. As they converged on Maggie, I was swiftly ushered out like the cold food she had not finished eating for dinner. As the doors closed and the moment faded, I broke down. Running through the cold hallways of the hospital, tears began streaming down my cheeks. I could taste the salt on my tongue as they dripped onto my chapped lips. Once I finally found the exit, I continued my sprint from the building, never looking back, but still crying.

As the winter passed, Maggie’s condition worsened and my heart finally gave way. She had been in the hospital for the entire month of December, and half of January. The word around town was that she would not survive the spring, and her parents refused to allow any more visitors. I was left in the dark, trying to navigate seventh grade and the potential loss of my first love. When summer finally arrived, I felt like I was ten years older. I had suffered enough stress for a lifetime, and I was beyond ready to feel happy again.

Updates on Maggie stopped coming from her parents. They were keeping her status a secret from her school, friends, and me. I had tried to visit her at the hospital without permission on the fourth of July, but I was turned away by security. I even tried to go by her house, to see if she was home recovering. But the house was dead and empty. No one would tell me anything. I didn’t even know if she was still alive. But no one in my brother's grade, nor the entire school had heard anything about her passing away, which was a good sign - regardless of how bleak.

The weight of my cycling emotions, mixed with heart-breaking fear, taught me the fundamentals of love. When you can care for someone so hard that it breaks your heart, you’ve sacrificed yourself for the sake of the other person. To me, that was love. And I knew I was in it.

Maggie...

I opened my eyes just in time to see a dragon-shaped cloud get ripped apart by a giant puppy. The birds were singing, the sun was beating, and the pears were juicy. Too lazy to climb to my feet, I started making snow angels in the leaves - searching for fallen, tasty treasure. Finding nothing but sticks, wet leaves and two rotted out pears, I gave up my craving and nestled myself back into the leaves, preparing for another nap. Studying the sky, I took a long swig from my water bottle as a snake-headed lobster was colliding with a mini-horse. Clouds are so strange.

Closing my eyes again, I could only think of one thing. One person.

Then it hit me.

A rock.

My right shin started to throb in pain as I pathetically jerked myself out of the leaf pile to search my surroundings for an attacker, but there was nobody there. The woods were empty. No animals, no people, and there weren’t any active woodland WARS campaigns.

“What the hell?”

I lifted my pant leg and I could already see my skin bruising, and it was a big welt. Pain, along with anger flowed through my veins, motivating me to my feet. Hobbling on one good leg, I searched the ground for the projectile. I picked up a large stick and used it to sift through the leaves around me. Finding nothing but the two rotted pears, more leaves and large quantities of sticks, I turned around to search a different area. Then my foot rolled.

I stepped on something oval that twisted beneath my weight, which nearly caused me to fall. It was an enormous, green and copper pear.

But this pear was impossible. There were markings carved into it. Two letters and two words. At first I thought I was still dreaming, because there was no way that what I held in my hand was real. I slapped myself three times across the face, quite hard, to wake from the dream. As the pain increased, I realized that this was no dream. I was awake. But how? I looked back down at the pear, to make sure the markings were gone.

They were not. They were real.

U R MY TYPE

As the dots danced in the sunlight, a sharp silhouette pranced between the trees in the distance. My ears were ringing from the slaps, so I was unable to hear any snaps or pops, indicating the figure's approach. I splashed some of the water from the bottle in my face to help clear my vision. The silhouette moved again. It was moving faster now, almost running, and it was heading straight towards me. Unsure of what was rapidly approaching, I leveled the giant stick that I was holding and dug my heels in. When the figure got within a few yards of the pear tree, the sunlight wiped away the shadows and I could see who was standing in front of me.

Maggie?

Her skin was olive. Her dark hair dangled just beneath her ears and her smile was commanding. She looked amazing. But, how was she here? My brain ached with confusion and a billion questions. Sensing that I was about to speak and probably ruin the moment, she placed a warm finger on my trembling lips and spoke three words,

“Kiss me, soldier.”