A 155th Casualty
Joshua P’ng
First Canadian soldier killed in Afghanistan this year
“Corporal Yannick Scherrer’s sacrifice was remembered Tuesday during ...”
Her reaction was meh. Another casualty from Afghanistan; so what else wasn’t depressing in the papers anymore. They couldn’t even dignify their deaths with 1st page anymore, but the descript was all the same she could have quoted them by heart if she had bothered to read them all; “killed by an improvised explosive device” or “our thoughts and deepest condolences” what was wrong with sorry we screwed up and now you’re paying for our mistakes? At least it would have been honest not that hypocritical airy bullshit that they chose to typecast for every single casualty; though at least was a short enough read, enough to wait for her toast to pop out from the toaster her parents lent last year.
The hard linoleum floor was to smooth to grip with her bare toes around as the standard descript continued. The location Kandahar where all the soldiers died, a household name that she doubted anyone from Canada beyond those who were already there could find on the map, a personal bit about a planned trip to Thailand only a couple weeks away from a saving grace, blown to bits by chance or fate whatever Scherrer believed. Blah Blah Blah, what was there to drink in the fridge? Absolutely nothing, figures. It was worth a sigh for, perhaps more so that there wasn’t a drop of orange juice left; it was bread and water again. Just another casualty. However Scherrer was a name she heard before. Scherrer. The named rolled across her tongue alongside the ashy black toast she heavily buttered to try and compensate. It was a memory string worthy pulling, biting her lip with the toast taste. Scherrer.
She knew that name. Where had she heard the name? She dallied with a grocery list she was formulating a dozen eggs, loaf of bread, lettuce, tomatoes, mushrooms, orange juice, and some Scherrer. Then it came, not finding Scherrer but James first whose-last-name-she-forgot though she would never forget his nasally voice or that annoying way he puckered his teeth like he was sucking air. “Hey Schervrer, Leeeii!” calling after her and Sam in his capacity to annoy. They laughed at his ugly face. Scherrer was Sam’s ponytail and that thin gap between her front teeth where she could see infinity. High School lunches; they not always but almost always went to that great Shawarma place across the street to stave their exotic munchies when they could. Sam-actually--Samantha Scherrer, whose initials S.S. she teased at during history class. It must have been what? 4 years and a bit to forget about her B.F.F. That deserved a face palm. Christ was she a bitch. She had a difficult name to remember though, Scherrer.
Yannick Scherrer, Sam Scherrer, they could be related. The likeness in such a rare last name was a chance more than coincidence. Sam had mentioned her older brother in the military or something like that. After all it wasn’t that far-fetched that her high schools best friend whose older brother was in the military was Yannick Scherrer. How many Canadian soldiers had a last name of Scherrer anyway? A Canadian soldier who had died was the older brother of her best friend. How many other Canadians could have this connection to those brave troops? Huh it was quite a though to think of while playing with the bit of toast between her fingers as she sipped lukewarm tap water whilst flipping through the paper. In parliament were Steven Harper and the other old farts in suits jabbing fingers at Scherrer and always faultless in themselves. Of the Middle East where men and women stood paralleling the black cops standing against them. Yannick Scherrer standing ramrod in his black beret with her and Sam going Hijab-covered, wait no Hijab, just letting their hair fly free. It was great read, especially with the contrast of her lonely circumstances of living it up in a one bedroom apartment.
It occurred to her that wouldn’t it be the right thing to do, was give Sam a call, just to see how she was taking it? She looked up at the old clock piece nailed to her yellow wall. Another piece, her mum was kind enough to lend. Now would probably be a good time to leave if she was going to make it to work. But what was being fashionably late to work to stopping for a moment and talking to her best friend, with some words of comfort, it was a sacrifice she could make for her. Her duty even, to flick through the kitchen drawer, past the bits of hoard like all those mystery keys for Sam’s number. There it was, everything was always in the back, this time her high school planner. It cracked open with Sam’s number just barely emerging through the deftness of four year’s worth of scrawls and i-hearts. Probably a good idea to be appropriately sombre, when talking, it was a difficult time after all, as she called up the number.
“Hi it’s Sam calling”
“Hey Sam it’s me.”
“... Annie?”
“Yeah, it’s me Anny.”
“Oh hey Anny, what can I do for you?”
“I know it must be hard for you right now, but I thought I’d just call and give my condolences for your brother’s death and all” the phone cord twirled easily around her finger.
“My brother’s death?! Uh last time I checked which was yesterday, my brother was alive and well. And even if he did die, I’m pretty sure I’d know before you.” The twirling stopped.
“But he’s in the newspaper! Like didn’t you tell me your brother was in the military?”
“My brother is a police officer Anny, who is currently alive. When did I say he was in the military?”
Boy was she screwing this up.
“Um forget that sorry it just that you and Yannick Scherrer had the same last name and”
“My last name’s Schever Anny, Schever! Not Scherrer, frankly I don’t even know who this Yannick Scherrer guy you’re talking about.”
“Yannick Scherrer’s the 155th casualty we’ve suffered in Afghanistan.”
“Oh so that’s why the flagpole’s only half hoisted. Wow that’s pretty sad, I feel bad for his family”
Yes of course the real Scherrer’s, poor them.
“Yeah me too I guess, I’m sorry about that Sam, I thought your brother was the dead soldier who died Jeez I’m such a complete idiot”
“Yeah idiocy does happen to one and all, but in other news what’s up with you?”
Sam kept talking a bit, she too, just to be polite. But each minute Sam yakked about the old times was a minute pass being fashionably late and into paycheck cut late. Finally it came that talk to you later, yes we’ll meet up to reminisce some more, it was at least but right now she was so late, and all that, okay bye. She threw the phone back hard in its perch with how stupid could she be? Sam’s last name was Schever, not Scherrer, of course, why didn’t she ever ask Sam what her last name was. Forget it. It didn’t matter anymore, being late mattered and she was out the door, the flag fluttered high on its pole, with the grocery list, dozen eggs, loaf of bread, lettuce, tomatoes, mushrooms some orange juice, etc.
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