Chapter 9 - The Salute Was Personal, Not Protocol
After Reed crushed Julian’s boutonniere, the foyer became:
very quiet.
Julian looked at my father.
Then at:
Reed.
“You know him?”
Reed answered:
“Yes.”
Julian pointed at Arthur.
“He works maintenance here.”
“I know.”
That confused Julian more.
Then:
“Why did you salute him?”
Reed looked toward my father.
Arthur sighed.
“Marcus.”
“What?”
“Don’t.”
Reed ignored:
him.
He turned to Julian.
“Brigadier General Arthur Bennett commanded more soldiers than you have employees.”
Julian’s mouth opened.
I watched the information rearrange:
his face.
Reed continued.
“He retired after thirty-five years.”
“Multiple commands.”
“Two combat deployments.”
“Disaster-response operations.”
“Defense logistics.”
Then:
“He also grows excellent tomatoes.”
Dad muttered:
“Marcus.”
I almost laughed.
Julian stared at:
me.
“You never told me he was a general.”
I felt something inside me:
snap into focus.
“You never asked.”
“You said he worked grounds.”
“He does.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is exactly the same man.”
Julian looked toward:
Arthur.
For the first time, embarrassment appeared.
Not remorse.
Embarrassment.
Different.
That distinction destroyed whatever remained of:
my engagement.
Because his shame came from learning Dad had status.
Not from realizing he had humiliated:
May you like
a human being.
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