by Hal Kempka
Harry had suffered periodic bouts of depression since returning from Iraq. After his Humvee hit an IED outside Mosul, he was medivac’d to the amputee unit at Walter Reed Army hospital. Camille flew to be with him immediately.
He didn’t want her to be married to a cripple, and said if she wanted out of the marriage, he wouldn’t stop her.
“I love you,” she’d said, “whether you have legs or not. So, stop feeling sorry for yourself and learn to live with it.”
He bought her the Harley and sidecar with his first VA disability check.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I want you to be happy,” he replied. “Besides, you always said you wanted something huge and warm between your legs.”
She smacked him in the head. “You’re all I need baby, even if you’re not huge and warm.”
Now six months later, his depression returned.
“C’mon Harry, let’s go for a ride,” Camille said. “The fresh air will do us good.”
“Nah, you go. I won’t enjoy it,” he replied.
“Sure you will, I guarantee it.”
He shrugged. “Okay, if it’ll make you feel better.”
“I’m not thinking about me, Harry!”
In the garage, Camille helped Harry into the sidecar. They sped down the freeway, holding hands with the wind in their face. Harry hollered he wanted to be with her forever. Neither one noticed the drunk driver until he swerved into their lane and hit them head on, ensuring they would indeed be together forever.