Edited By Barney R. Messed with further by me. All errors and omissions are mine.

Author’s postscript: I was under a psychiatrist’s care for many years for depression, so please understand that I know some of the symptoms. I unfortunately pushed most of my family away while I was being treated.

I had known Kelly Caswell (nee Grayson) since sixth grade, and we had been married for 8 years when the bad events started.

I am Robert Jeffery Caswell, RJ to anyone who knows me more than a day. I am an only child and my mother is a widow. My dad was killed in an industrial accident when a safety device failed. Mom got a very large settlement from the company and an even larger one from the safety device manufacturer when at the trial it was disclosed that they knew that the device was faulty. Mom put all but the equivalent of dad’s lifetime earnings she expected into a trust fund for me to receive when I turned thirty. She goofed up on one thing, I could not draw on the trust for anything, even schooling until I turned 30.

I was 34 when things started going to hell in my life. The trouble continued for a what seemed a long time.

I was always a little different than the other kids in my age group. I had been sick for most of the first 3 years of my life. Because of that, I was rail thin. Because of the sicknesses, there were times when I couldn’t play outside, so I was reading by the time I was four. Not just kid’s books, but I read the newspaper and had a library card that almost smoked after I used it each week. I also was not into big physical contact sports, so I never enjoyed organized football, but I played schoolyard no pads tackle when we could get five or six kids together and some decent grass to play on.

I was a pretty good sandlot baseball pitcher and I could play most of the infield, except maybe third base, (I am left-handed) but when it came to organized ball, most coaches took one look at me and I was gone. My basketball talent was this way; I dribbled only when I had a glass in my hand. My jump shot was a brick, and my free throws were so ungainly that the coach laughed me off the court. I found my niche in running. I made the High School Cross-Country Team. I wasn’t the fastest, but I was always in the top 12 at our quad school^[1] meets. I made varsity as a freshman.

Another thing that set me apart was that I was and am a dancer. My parents enrolled me in dance classes from the time I was seven until I was a junior in high school. Not just any dance, ballroom, folk, and jazz. Because of that, I had and have great body control, and an appreciation of music. The body control would save my bacon several times in my life. The dance knowledge meant that I seldom was without a partner when I was at the school dances; even if I went stag.

Then, after I stopped going to dance class, I signed up for a martial arts class with an instructor who taught Krav Maga, and other offensive arts, Bo Stick, Baton, and even knife fighting. He did emphasize that everything he was teaching was last resort use.

One more reason I was on the edges of the cliques was I have enjoyed being around girls from the third grade (8 years old). I never understood ‘Girl Cooties’. I was accepted by most of them, and maybe that was why I felt comfortable with them.

I first met Kelly during the summer before I started sixth grade. Her family had moved into a house down the street from us. She was a quiet girl, and while I didn’t fully grasp pretty, cute, or beautiful, I knew she was nice to look at.

I was playing street baseball (we used a worn-out tennis ball as it had never broken a window) one day near the end of summer. Kelly was sitting on the porch of the house they moved into watching us play.

We never seemed to have an even number of kids playing, and I somehow always ended up on the short-handed team. The seven kids playing that day included two girls, both on my team.

I saw Kelly and asked her if she would like to play on my team to even us out. She went in to ask her mother and ran out of the house and into the street with us with a very good fielder’s glove. She talked to all of us and introduced herself. Then she proceeded to help us smoke the other team. She was a natural. She could hit, field, and was fast.

We continued to get to know each other over the rest of summer because of my mother. She was the welcome wagon when we did not have one. She met Kelly’s mother and volunteered my services as an entertainment committee for Kelly for the summer and as an escort to school. I was surprisingly OK with that.

We played, walked, talked, and swam through the summer. There was a city swimming pool just six city blocks from our street. There were four parks within a half-mile and a lot of open property that we could use as a park.

School started and I walked with Kelly everyday through the sixth grade, and when we moved to middle school I stood with her at the bus stops. We became best friends.

As girls tend to mature more quickly than boys, when we were freshmen, Kelly was asked to go on a date by a sophomore. I had heard a lot of bad things about Jerry ‘Roaming Hands’ French and I told her of them. Kelly didn’t believe me and went so far as to accuse me of being jealous.

I realized that I was, but I stood my ground, and we had our first argument. I avoided her for the entire week before her date, and for a couple of days afterward. I only went to her when I heard that Jerry was sporting a black eye and a broken finger.

When I finally got near Kelly, She had her head down and when I said her name she rushed to me, grabbed me in a hug, and started crying on my shirt. When I got her face up to look at me she too had a bruise mark. But hers was a handprint on the side of her cheek that was obviously from a very hard slap. Her whole cheek was bruised and swollen.

When I got her calmed down, she looked at me and said, “RJ, I’m so sorry for doubting you, Jerry was like an octopus, and I had to grab his hand and bend a finger back until I think I broke it. Then he slapped me real hard so I punched him. He pushed me out of his car and told me to ‘walk home you bitch, you’ll never get a date when the school finds out that you’re a tease’”

She sobbed and continued. “I called mom and she and dad came and picked me up. They were furious, they drove over to Jerry’s house and marched me up to the door and showed my face to Jerry’s parents. His parents called Jerry on his cell and told him to get his ass home. We left, and I didn’t hear if there was any additional punishment, but there are apparently no rumors started, and Jerry has his hand in a cast.”

I walked her to her next class, and Jerry was there, waiting. “Well bitch, I see that I wasn’t the only one who got a trophy on our date. You and your parents have caused me to be punished by my Dad. I’m grounded until Christmas Break because of you. I will get my revenge; you need to be watching your back from now on.”

Kelly started for him, but I pushed her back behind me. Jerry had backed up when she started forward. I smiled at him, and it was not a pleasant smile.

I said loudly to the gathering crowd. “You must be a real big man, having to beat his date up when she says no. That takes a real brave asshole to wail on a girl who just wanted you to keep your hands to yourself.”

With that, Jerry took a swing at me but I just moved out of the way.

“Yup, a real brave asshole who even lost the fight with the girl. She has a bruised face and you have a cast on your hand and a black eye.”

The laughter from the gathered crowd started then. Apparently, Jerry had made up a story about how he hurt himself. The crowd just thought the truth was hilarious. Jerry, not so much.

He started another swing when a teacher grabbed his arm and took him to the office. That was the end of that episode. The fallout was interesting. Kelly was mobbed by several of the girls who had gone out with Jerry. Jerry never got another date while still at our school. His family moved shortly after the school year ended and I never saw him again.

I came out of the hall confrontation as a minor hero to some of the girls. The story got around that I protected Kelly with my body and kept Jerry away from her. That led to Kelly and I being included in a few of the girl planned activities where boys were included. We both made new friends.

Well, Kelly was my shadow from then on until we graduated. We went on dates nearly every weekend. She wore my letterman’s sweater more than I did. I was the recipient of her virginity on prom night in our junior year. We made love after that at every opportunity we had. We knew that we would be going in different directions when we graduated as I was something of a scholar-athlete, and Kelly was looking at a local business school.

During my senior year, I was being recruited by several small and Division II colleges to join their track teams. I got unlucky when during the next to last regular cross-country meet I was jostled into a clump up trees, and broke my leg, collar bone, and two ribs, one of which punctured my lung. That ended any chance for an athletic scholarship. The other scholarship offers I received would not cover enough of the expenses to allow me to go straight to college. This was when we discovered the error in the trust. Mom’s trust income was deliberately only enough to cover all of her expenses. But the trust assets meant that I wouldn’t qualify for financial aid. I also refused to go into ridiculous amounts of debt to complete a degree.

My other option was the military. I signed up to start basic training in July after I graduated. Kelly was accepted at the business school.

I finished basic and was home for a ten-day delay-in-route^[2] I arrived home on a Friday about midday. I was home for about four hours, when I called Kelly’s house to talk to her. Her mother told me that she was on a date and was not expected back until late. I was a little jealous, a little annoyed, and a whole lot hurt. I had written Kelly every day and told her in a phone call the week before, of the time and day when I would be home. She never told me she was dating.

“Thank you Mrs. Caswell, please tell Kelly I called, and tell her there is no need for her to contact me anymore. She knew when I was coming home and told me she would be here to greet me when she got out of her classes. I am sorry to bother you.

Would you do one more thing for me, please?”

“Sure RJ, I am sorry she lied to you, she has been dating this boy for a couple of weeks. I was under the impression that she told you. What do you want me to do?”

“I’m not sure she lied, she just didn’t tell me she was dating when I talked to her this week. Could you please find my letterman’s sweater and give it to my mom? If Kelly is dating someone, she should have returned it. Thank you in advance.”

Well, I caught a ration of shit from a screaming Kelly when her mother gave her the news. It was after midnight when mom’s front door was taking a terrible pounding. I had fallen asleep on the couch so I was the first one there to answer it.

An angry, crying Kelly was standing there with my sweater in her hand. When she saw it was me she threw the sweater at me and screamed. “I’m sorry I forgot” She took a breath and screamed some more, “and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was dating, but I am and you caused me to catch a lot of grief from my parents. Eat shit and die, I never want to see you again.” Then before I could say anything, she turned and ran home.

That was the last I saw of or heard from Kelly for almost five years. There were no letters, no phone calls, and my mother never mentioned her in letters or on the phone. I thought I had moved on.

Because of the military training and exercise, I bulked up. I was not a bodybuilder, but I grew to 190 lbs. On my six foot two inch frame the weight finally made it so I stopped looking like a war refugee. My previous martial arts training helped me excel in the physical aspects of military life. I was used as a crash-test dummy and assistant instructor for the hand to hand combat training. I was assigned to an infantry battalion as a weapons specialist and carried a mini-gun and backpack plus I had an assistant who carried the belts of ammunition.

I made one successful (no wounds or injuries) tour of Afghanistan. I came home for a 15-day delay-in-route after that tour. Kelly was nowhere to be found, and I didn’t really look too hard; her last words were still hurtful.

I went back to my unit and was sent for more training. When I returned to my unit we were deployed again to Afghanistan. I only had about 18 months left in my four year commitment, but I expected to be stop lossed as many of the weapons specialists were either dead, medicaled out, or did not stay in when they got the chance to get out. It was a dirty, bloody job.

Then in my fourth and last year of my enlistment, I got hurt. I was in Southern Afghanistan walking through a village when an IED was accidently triggered by some incompetent insurgents. The blast knocked down the wall of the compound I was in front of, and I was hit and buried up to my chest by the debris. My ammunition carrier was not hurt, but there were more than twenty civilian casualties and myself. The insurgents were mostly vaporized.

I ended up breaking both legs, losing my left foot just above the ankle joint, and my right arm was also broken. The arm was an easy fix, a cast, and time. My left leg, other than the foot was a cast and time. My right leg took four surgeries and half of the stainless steel produced in the U. S. that year to put it back together.

I rehabbed at Walter Reed in Washington D.C. My mother came to visit several times, but it was expensive. She got help from several of the veteran’s organizations but it was still a burden.

I had been studying at the University of Maryland long distance over the internet and had completed almost all of my courses to finish my junior year of a business degree. While rehabbing, I completed all the rest but one class for my degree. I was determined to walk on stage and receive my diploma.

During one of her visits while I was rehabbing my mother finally brought me up to date on Kelly. It seems that after the tirade at our house, she stopped dating. She got her diploma and went to work for a local business as a secretary and filing clerk. She, according to mom, seemed to be happy in her job. She had apologized profusely to my mom about how she had hurt me. She did not come to see me, nor did she write to me.

Well, I decided that since I was a bed captive until I get my new foot, I would write to her.

...

...

I sent the letter after I was told I would be discharged with a medical retirement disability rating of 80%. I was very surprised when I received a letter back from Kelly the next week and several weeks before my discharge date.

...

...

After reading that letter, my spirits were lifted. I did not totally realize how much I was hurt by her actions. The letter told me that I wasn’t the only one who felt it. I decided to write back and hope the communication could resume. I decided to start with a continuation letter.

...

...

The next week I got a short letter back

...

...

We continued to write and share an occasional phone call. It was mostly by e-mail because it provided a more efficient and quicker avenue of communications. I was keeping her up to date on my rehab, and my classes. I also informed her of my discharge date.

The reunion meeting, when it came, was a complete surprise to me. I was commuting to College Park, MD for my last class. When I successfully completed it, I was going to go to my graduation ceremonies. I was given six tickets to the stadium where the event was to be held. I sent them to my mother and told her to make sure she came and to include anyone else she wanted. Little did I realize who would come, or that the college had something planned for me.

I did not see mom before the rest of the graduates were marched onto the football field and were told to sit. Because I was still on crutches, I was allowed to skip the march, and came in after everyone else was seated. That way I was assured an aisle seat. Student names were called in the order of class standing, and because I had been very motivated, I was one of the first ten. I was also an exception, because of the crutches, I was called first, but before my name was mentioned, my military story was told. I slowly made my way up, and as I got on stage, my mother, Kelly’s mother, and Kelly walked up the opposite stairs. I got my degree from Kelly with tears in my eyes. I hugged my mother and got a scorching kiss and a rib breaking hug from Kelly.

The reunion continued. Kelly decided to come and visit at the hospital. She watched my being fitted for my fake foot. I was amazed that it didn’t gross her out.

I had my new plastic foot and the preliminary rehab so the doctors decided that I could be treated as an outpatient. I walked with a cane as part of my rehab. I looked for an instructor for me to restart my martial arts training.