About ten o'clock last night, a single person walked up to the front gate and knocked. Swathed in layers of clothing and pieces of fabric obviously cadged from many places over time, this lone wanderer carried no weapon other than a worn machete and hatchet.
The sentries on duty opened the gate and let Becky in.
She asked to see me. I was awakened after just having fallen asleep by the incessant pounding on my front door. When I opened it, the shock that hit me on seeing her left me speechless. Both of us moved at the same time, hugging each other and bawling like children.
Those weird phone calls have apparently been coming from her. She's got a satellite phone, and has been trying to use it to reach me for a long while now. Her journey here is one that deserves a full post of its own, so I'm saving that for tomorrow. For now, let me tell you who she is.
Becky and I have been friends for a long time. She was in Iraq serving as a combat medic during The Fall. I remember her as an incredibly geeky science nerd who was bubbly and positive with her friends, a witty conversationalist and creative thinker, while also being a snarky asshole to people that annoyed her. In short, she's a smaller, blonde version of me with boobs.
You can see why I love her.
She's been trying to get back to the states all this time. She heard about the blog, and she made her way here. Jess and I have invited her to live with us for as long as she wants. It's almost a half day after she got here right now, and I'm still so blown away by it that I can barely write. Sorry if this is disjointed and scattered, my words are just reflections of my state of mind.
It's not all butterflies and bunny rabbits, though. She's more grim, now. She's darker. The childlike joy that used to dance in her eyes only comes in flashes. The rest of the time, she broods. Might just be the trip here, still shaking off the stress and pressure. I don't know. I'm just worried.
But my Becky is here, and Jess and I couldn't be happier.