I’ll Be Back

Tanka’s heart was breaking into pieces and those pieces into smaller ones and even those were breaking smaller. Soon there would be nothing left in the left side of his chest but dust and bones. He was leaving his family behind and it was a weight he could scarcely bear.

Nadine, his beloved wife, adorned a facade of fortitude, masking her inner anguish with a stoic expression. Yet, the glistening trails of tears falling down her bronze face betrayed her turmoil within. His seven-year-old adopted son, Yael, clung to his father’s leg with desperate sobs, his small frame wracked with grief.

“Daddy, please… please don’t go,” Yael pleaded between choked sobs, his words a heart-wrenching refrain that echoed in Tanka’s ears.

With trembling hands, Tanka brushed away the tears that threatened to spill from his own eyes, enfolding his family in a tight yet tender embrace. At that moment, he wished he could freeze time. But the distant horn of the waiting bus resonated through the air like a duty call beckoning, pulling him away from his family. Reluctantly, he loosened his grip on his loved ones. “I’ll come back, I promise,” his voice trembling with emotion.

But Yael wasn’t having it. “No, Daddy, please don’t leave,” he cried.

Tanka’s resolve wavered, his heart aching with the knowledge of the pain he inflicted upon his family. “Please, Yael, you know why I’m going. I have to find your uncle,”

“What if you don’t come back?” Yael’s voice trembled, his big eyes full of worry.

Tanka hugged him tighter, reassuring him, “I’ll come back,” his words filled with determination. He wasn’t sure about much but about this, he intended to keep his word.

“What if when you do, I’m bigger, and you don’t know me anymore? What if you forget me?”

Even in his pain, Tanka couldn’t help but smile, “I can never forget you,” he assured his son, his words imbued with a love that transcended time and distance. Turning to Nadine, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, a fleeting moment of solace amidst the turmoil of departure. “You two are my heart, and I can’t live without it,” he murmured.

The horn blasted again, the bus was almost full now with his fellow soldiers and the families who came to see them off were beginning to disperse, Tanka bent to kiss his son on his forehead.

As the bus rumbled to life, its engines a sombre symphony of farewell, Tanka lingered for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on his family with a bittersweet intensity. With a final, agonized whisper, he vowed, “I’ll be back,” before steeling himself to let go, before turning and quickly walking away.

“No!” The anguished cry of his son pierced through the air like a dagger, Tanka stopped and turned around. A sobbing Nadine, resolve destroyed, was restraining a distraught Yael to stop him from running to his dad.

Tanka forced himself to turn away again, “I’ll come back,” he murmured to himself, his words a mantra of hope in the face of uncertainty. “I must.”

* * * *

Musty had only two achievements in his life. His first achievement, the ability to tell time from the tender age of four, had been a source of pride for his father. Musty could still hear his father’s boastful words echoing in his mind, “This boy will be a genius, he can tell the time and he’s only four years old.” He would say at his mother’s canteen to all the patrons that would walk in.

But as the years passed, Musty’s father’s hope in his academic performance dwindled and he became a complete disappointment by his late teens. He was a straight-A student with no skills or talents to speak of. And it didn’t help that he had a younger brother who was great at school and everything else. A shining example of everything Musty was not.

His second achievement, enlisting in the army, had been an act of courage born out of desperation. It was a decision made in the hope of finding purpose and direction, a chance to prove himself in the eyes of others. But now, as he sat alone in his dark, windowless cell, without a way to tell second nor hour, day nor night, not knowing whether he would ever see the sunlight again. His achievements just seemed so meaningless. His life seemed like nothing but a waste. And he knew for sure no one was coming to rescue a disappointment like him.

His thoughts drifted to his family, wondering what they were doing at that very moment. His mother, he imagined, would be bustling about in the canteen, immersing herself in work to distract from the ache in her heart. It was her way of coping, masking difficult emotions beneath a facade of busyness. His father, on the other hand, would likely be at home, buried behind his newspaper, unable to speak his son’s name aloud, the weight of his son’s disappearance heavy on his shoulders.

And then there was Tanka, his younger brother, he would be with his family right now, taking solace in them. Musty couldn’t help but smile as he thought, remembering the day he had gotten married. It had been a joyous occasion, despite their parents’ objections to Tanka marrying a woman with a six-year-old son. But Musty had seen the love between Tanka and Nadine, pure and unwavering, and he couldn’t help but be happy for his brother. So he had stood by Tanka’s side at the wedding, the only family member in attendance. It was a small gift to give a brother who had given way more.

Their relationship had always been somewhat unconventional. They didn’t have much in common, and they rarely talked about anything. But still, they had always quietly supported each other. Musty remembered the countless times Tanka had come to his rescue.

When their father had berated Musty for his poor grades, punishing him by making him go to bed without eating dinner, Tanka had quietly saved half his dinner to share with him later. And when Musty had been caught stealing spare parts from the neighbor’s garage, Tanka had taken the blame alongside him, sharing the punishment. They both spent ten days cutting grass in the entire neighborhood. And when Musty had flunked out of university, it was Tanka who had offered him his life savings, to ensure he had a place to stay when their parents inevitably kicked him out of the house.

Musty couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt, he knew their relationship was mostly one-sided but he couldn’t help it. He always wanted to reciprocate his brother’s kindness but Tanka never fell down, he was always responsible, always did the right thing, and always made everyone proud. The man had no flaw.

At least that was until he met Nadine. Then for the first time in his life, Tanka had experienced rejection, the same rejection that Musty had felt for most of his life. And through it all, Musty had stood by his brother, offering a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on, just as Tanka had done for him countless times before. And when he finally passes, he hopes his little brother remembers him not for his countless failures but for the time he finally did something right.

* * * *

Malise may have been the smallest city in Italian, but it held a formidable reputation as the most powerful and most deadly. It was the epicenter of the civil war that ravaged the region, where thousands of soldiers marched to their demise in the relentless conflict. Musty was one of the few who had managed to evade death, instead got captured by the guerrilla soldiers of the opposition government.

Tanka dedicated himself to the relentless search for his brother amidst the turmoil of war. He spent years raiding enemy camps with his division, each mission tinged with a sense of disappointment at not finding any trace of his sibling. Frustrated and desperate, he eventually settled in a town on the outskirts of Malise, a place teeming with enemy soldiers. To survive, Tanka had to conceal his true identity and adopt a low profile.

Securing a job as a counter worker at an old bar proved to be Tanka’s ticket to survival. It was one of the few establishments that had weathered the storm of war because the soldiers used it as an oasis from all the death and madness. Tanka’s experience working the counter at his mother’s canteen after school made him a natural fit for the position. Yet, it was more than just a means to earn a living—it became his vantage point for gathering vital information.

Night after night, the bar filled with young, hardened guerrilla soldiers, their conversations loud yet weary. Tanka seized every opportunity to eavesdrop for information that could lead him to find his brother. And it did in the weirdest way possible.

One night, two soldiers found themselves locked in a heated altercation, over one of the limited women that remained in the hopeless town.

“I told you, if you ever went near her again, I would kill you,” Soldier One bellowed, his hand clutching the grip of a gun tucked into his belt.

“I’m not scared of you… shoot… shoot!” Soldier two retorted, beating on his puffed chest.

Many soldiers stood poised to intervene, ready to separate the combatants before things spiralled out of control. But the looming threat of the gun kept them at bay, unwilling to risk getting caught in the crossfire.

Tanka, however, refused to stand idly by. With a sense of resolve, he emerged from behind the safety of the counter and approached the fray. Moving with steady purpose, he reached out and seized the gun from Soldier One’s grasp, his fingers tightening around the weapon.

But Soldier One proved reluctant to relinquish his hold, his grip on the gun unyielding.

“There’s enough death waiting for you outside,” Tanka spoke with calm authority, his voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. “Don’t waste your bullets here.”

Soldier one hesitated, his gaze flickering with uncertainty as he wrestled with his emotions. In that moment of hesitation, Tanka saw an opportunity for reason to prevail over violence.

“No, I won’t kill him,” Soldier One finally declared, his voice tinged with a bitter edge. “I’ll shoot him and keep him with the prisoners in my basement.”

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* * * *

The crowd began to disperse as people began to walk back to the church but Yael stood beside his mother’s freshly covered grave, unwilling to leave her alone in the dark soil. He had prayed for her, said sweet words to her and covered her with sand but still he couldn’t leave. So many people came for her funeral today, more than could be expected for a woman who had no family other than her son. It was a testament to how loved she was by everyone she met.

He noticed a figure lingering in the distance. At first, he paid little attention, his mind consumed by his own sorrow. But as he turned to leave, the presence of the stranger tugged at his curiosity. He brushed it off and began his own solemn walk back to the church.

The moment he entered the church, Sister Abigail, their neighbour for the last ten years and his mother’s closest friend approached him. Her eyes were brimming with tears mirroring his own. She spoke softly, her voice trembling with emotion, “It was so hard to leave her there.”

He nodded because his words failed him.

Sister Abigail took in a deep breath and wiped her tears with a white handkerchief, “Yael, who was that man… at the cemetery.”

An image of a lone figure standing a distance from the congregation earlier popped into his mind. He shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“He kept watching so I assumed…” She didn’t seem to know how to finish her statement. “He was there that night at the hospital, right before she died. I saw him walk out of her room… I don’t know what they talked about but there was a smile on her lips when I walked in. It made me realise she hadn’t smiled in so long because of all the pain.”

Yael’s brow furrowed in confusion as he listened intently to her words. She continued, her voice catching in her throat, “He brought her some kind of comfort in her final moments.”

Yael turned and immediately started walking back to the cemetery, his ears were ringing and his heart was racing. Arriving at the gravesite once more, he scanned the surroundings, his eyes narrowing in on the figure standing solemnly in front of the grave. The sight only fueled the fire burning within him, as Yael approached with purpose.

“Hey,” Yael called out, his voice tinged with a mix of anger and uncertainty. “Who are you?”

The man turned, his face a picture of guilt and sorrow. “I didn’t mean to disturb you… I’ll go now,” he mumbled, turning to start walking the other way.

But before the man could retreat, Yael’s instincts kicked in, a flicker of recognition sparking within him. “Tanka?” Yael suddenly called out, his voice tinged with disbelief, and the man froze.

“Dad?” Yael added, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for a response.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, the man turned back toward Yael. His eyes met Yael’s, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still as father and son locked gazes.

“Tanka…” Yael breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as the weight of the moment washed over him. Years of separation and unanswered questions hung heavy in the air, but at that moment, none of it mattered. All that mattered was the undeniable bond between them, stronger than time or distance could ever hope to break.

“Dad…” Yael repeated, his voice breaking with emotion as he took a tentative step forward, reaching out to his father with trembling hands.

And in that moment, as father and son stood face to face amidst the silent graves, the barriers that had kept them apart for so long began to crumble. For in each other’s arms, the distance of ten years closed in a split second.

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