Bodyguard

Jake was tall, blonde, muscular and had a generous smile. In all honesty, I’m fairly sure he had a crush on me.

When my group of girls and I ended up at the same neighborhood bar in Washington, D.C. as Jake and his friends on the weekend he always seemed to take care of me. If it was time for a fresh drink Jake made one magically appear in my hand. If everyone ran to the dance floor to sweat and wildly sway to the latest hip hop song Jake deftly grabbed my elbow and steered me into the crowd. Once a friend of his offered me a cigarette and, knowing I didn’t smoke, Jake told him as much. Just to exert independence over my care taker I actually accepted the cigarette all the while giving Jake a sideways look, but as was his habit of entertaining my whims he grabbed the cigarette lighter and flipped it open as if laying the world at my feet. Any night the bar was shutting down and my friends had unknowingly scattered with Jake’s friends (or elsewhere) Jake was there to offer a ride/taxi/safe passage through the darkness of the city streets to my townhouse.

For all of Jake’s kind heartedness and small, undying devotions to me, he never asked for or assumed more from our friendship than he knew I would give. My heart, mind, and soul were fully committed to my long distance boyfriend, Dan, who was serving with the Marine Corps in Hawaii. This commitment, however, did not keep me from robust nights out on the town being entertained by the antics between my roommates and Jake’s friends or any group of boys we happened upon. Running into Jake at the bar made it all the more safe for me to let loose and maybe on some level I was also looking for a connection with Dan.

Like Dan, Jake was in the Marine Corps and served in a ceremonial unit. As Jake put it, his job was to “lift weights and carry caskets” providing for somber, precise, and flawless ceremonies for Marines as they were buried with honors at Arlington National Cemetery just outside of the city. Carrying caskets, folding casket flags for presentation to families, and offering final salutes to deceased Marines were duties Jake took as seriously as the honor it was to be carrying them out.

Jake and his friends frequented the neighborhood bar less over time and we fell out of touch. Dan and I became engaged, I moved, got married, forgot. A few short years later I found myself standing graveside at Arlington National Cemetery. I watched as my beloved’s casket moved into place, absorbing the precision with which his flag was folded and presented to me, clinging to a slow final salute from his fellow Marines. In those crushing moments of grief and devastation I found myself subconsciously scanning the faces of the Marines nearby grasping for comfort, reassurance, safety, and impossibly looking for Jake.