Debbie and I Hatch a Plan (44th Post)

Debbie and I signed up for the same Sociology course. After attending the first class  Debbie confided in me she was attracted to Rob, also a student in the class. We suspected Rob was either a veteran or currently in the military. Rob looked to be in his mid-20s. He wore a military-grade jacket displaying military patches, including a prominent one which bore his last name. 

It was 1970, and the US was deeply involved in the Vietnam War. Consequently, Debbie and I wondered if Rob might have served in Vietnam. Due to the cost of the war and the number of casualties, there was now a growing resistance across the US to not continue to support the war in Vietnam or the Draft. Or, as Henry David Thoreau stated “The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange.” Back to the “plan.”

Debbie was adorably smitten with Rob. She was, though, reticent to approach Rob directly. Being that I was a good wing-woman, I suggested a plan. Phase 1 of my mission would be to sit near Rob and get to know him. Phase 2 would be to then create an opportunity in which I could introduce Debbie to Rob. (Girl Talk is just so much fun!!!). With great enthusiasm, Debbie endorsed my plan. Rob usually sat at the back of the classroom. Being on my mission, as I walked into the next sociology class,  I immediately scanned the back of the room. I spied Rob, and as kismet would have it, the desk next to his was empty. Score!  I quickly walked to the back of the room and claimed the empty desk. Smiling, I introduced myself and started a conversation. We chatted amiably until the Professor started her lecture. As Rob ended the conversation and looked away from me, I gave Debbie a thumb’s up indicating the first phase of my mission was a success. In reply, Debbie’s smitten smile was radiant. I then turned my attention to the Professor’s lecture.

Phase 2 of my mission came sooner than I ever expected. And, in a way, I could have never foreseen. The class was going well when suddenly there was a very loud BANG that came from the Quad outside our classroom windows. I thought the extremely loud noise was generated by a car backfire. Or, perhaps a student lit a firecracker. Apparently, Rob thought differently. He immediately fled his desk, dropped to the floor, and shielded his head with his arms and hands. He lay so still on the floor, for a second, I thought he had stopped breathing. I quickly waved one hand at the Professor and with my other hand pointed desperately down toward Rob. However, to my dismay, the Professor ignored my gestures, and without missing a beat continued to lecture. Stunned at her response, I became alarmed about Rob and upset at the Professor. Rob was a rather big guy, so my thoughts screamed “how can she ignore this situation?”  

Understanding I was now on my own I focused on Rob. Due to my undiagnosed TBI and PTSD, I understood the fear and the desperate need to survive. My years of monitoring my strange symptoms and observing people had honed my instincts. So,  even though I did not know why Rob lay on the floor in such a fashion, I followed 

my instincts. I grabbed onto my desk, leaned over Rob, and softly asked “Rob are you ok?” I spoke softly as I did not want to startle him. He did not respond to my question. He continued just to lie so still. Now, on another very different mission, I quickly untethered myself and sank to the floor beside him. Worried he may not be able to understand a comforting hand on his shoulder, I refrained from making contact. Instead, I kept my voice soft and continued to talk to him. Again, I asked if he was ok. No answer or movement. I followed with “can I help you? It is me, Alesia Willow. I am right here - let me help you.” Rob slowly removed his hands from the defensive pose. Next, he stared up at me. I gasped as I looked back into his eyes. They were very wide open and so vacant. He looked like he was many miles away from me, seeing something I could not. Somehow my instincts managed to help me say again-“Rob are you ok? Let me help you.” Rob’s eyes started rapidly blinking and he whispered “what just happened?” Still keeping my voice soft, I said “I think the noise was a car backfire; nothing bad happened it was just a noise coming from the Quad.” His eyes stopped the rapid movement and he began to survey the room. When finished he looked back at me. I said to him “you are ok, let’s get off the floor.” He slowly started to get up. I matched his slow moments just in case he needed help. He sat down at his desk, and I at mine. 

Once at my desk, I looked at the Professor. Throughout our ordeal on the floor, she never stopped lecturing. I looked around the classroom. Not one student was staring at us. All were attentive to the lecture and taking notes. I was bewildered by the lack of any reactions. My heart had been racing, and now it was returning to a normal rhythm. I looked over at Rob. He, too, was attentive to the Professor. Everything felt surreal to me. All I could think was how alarmed I felt at how people can pretend so easily like nothing happened. I had seen this tragic and delusional type of reaction many times as I was growing up. Not knowing what else to do, I leaned toward Rob and said "I’m glad you are ok.” For a moment, he gazed back at me, slightly nodded, and said thank you. He then returned to listening to the lecture that was never interrupted.  

As my breathing returned to normal, I thought he is like me. He startles easily and is hyper-vigilant, and he too has a puzzle to solve. What I did not know then, that I do now, is both Rob and I were struggling with PTSD. Yes, Dear Reader, we had PTSD for vastly different reasons.  However, Trauma affects and leaves the same horrific impact on people, regardless of the source.

After class Rob and I walked out together. In the hallway, he stopped our progression and again thanked me. I felt uncertain about how to proceed in this situation. Kismet, in the form of Debbie, suddenly appeared at my side. Relieved, and also, nursing a feeling of the need to just get back to the normalcy of my mission, I said “Oh, Rob, let me introduce my roommate." His demeanor changed to one of interest. As he greeted Debbie, we all began a conversation. Thinking Phase 2 was now complete, 

I interrupted our conversation, stating I had forgotten I had an errand to run. I said my goodbyes and left them standing together. Later in the day, Debbie returned to our dorm room. I learned my mission had indeed been successful. Rob had asked her out on a date. I was thrilled.  She was in bliss. Yes! Mission accomplished.

At the end of that day, as I lay in bed, I remember thinking how strange it was that I was the only one in the classroom to help Rob. I had just introduced myself to him, so did not know him. Yet, mysteriously he did not feel like a stranger to me. Something about him felt so very familiar to me. I knew what it was like to be scared, alone, and with no one to help me. During and after the incident, I did not press him for answers. I knew what it was like to have no words to share. I also knew what it was like to pretend I was ok. I pondered this strange kinship. 

As I began to drift asleep I felt so happy for Debbie. She had such a good heart. I could not explain to myself why, however, I very much felt Rob had a good heart too. Sighing over the thought I had completed my mission, I knew they were a good match. Now it was up to them.

However, there were greater forces at work. Little did Debbie and I know Rob was trapped in Pandora’s Box - a.k.a The Vietnam War. “There is no greater agony than an untold story” - Maya Angelou.