Cast No Shadow

He had not been expecting a letter. All of his schoolmates had received similar notifications, so it is curious that he should think himself immune to such matters. Nonetheless the frail piece of paper came as a shock to him. At the top, capitalized and bold, read "ORDER TO REPORT FOR ARMED FORCES PHYSICAL EXAMINATION". Just below that was his name and address: Liam Duffy, 18 Gorham Rd, Medford, MA. He ran his fingers over the words and felt a chill run up his spine. There was no denying that this letter was for him; there was no way to run or hide or destroy this letter that was so much more than just a letter. It was a death sentence, a funeral notice, a obituary on the back page of the local paper. Dumbstruck, Liam slowly marched back into the two-story Victorian his grandfather had helped build thirty years prior. He ascended the steps, walked across the porch, and opened the front door with the letter clenched tightly in his left hand.

"Liam! Come help Ma with supper!"

He didn't answer. His mouth was too dry for such trivial things as words.

"Liam, didn't you hear me?!"

He walked into the kitchen and set the letter down on the table before grabbing a knife to slice tomatoes. His sister, Saoirse, removed her apron and took the letter into her hands. Her eyes widened as she read the heading.

"Oh my god. Liam..." her voice trailed off.

"Saoirse, what's wrong?" Mrs. Duffy asked.

She wordlessly handed the letter over. Mrs. Duffy dropped the potato she was in the process of peeling and clenched the countertop. She fought back tears.

"How long do you have?"

"11 days," Liam replied succinctly.

Mrs. Duffy attempted to regain her composure; she picked the potato back up and returned to her dinner preparation.

"We must get you ready then," she said.

"I'm not going."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not going. I'm not going to go sleepwalk to my death like everyone else!"

Saoirse placed a calming hand on Liam's shoulder, which he quickly shrugged off.

"Liam, you're not in your right mind."

"Yes I am... And I'm not going. I'd rather spend the next five years in prison than get shipped off to some god forsaken country."

With that he stormed up to his room, his emphatic footsteps echoing throughout the house. That was the last conversation the Duffy family had about Liam's conscription; the subject did not resurface for the next eleven days. Neither Mrs. Duffy nor Saoirse dared speak of it again, and Liam maintained an eerily calm disposition. It was apparent that he was childishly attempting to make true the old adage that "if one doesn't think about something it won't come true".

Liam, however, wasn't just trying to push his impending and involuntary departure out of his mind. Rather he was still attempting to come to grips with it. All he could think about was his father, Henry. Liam was never given a chance to know his father, whose life was taken on a snowy Seoul afternoon that should have seen school kids producing snow angels and snowmen rather than soldiers producing armored tanks and machine guns.

"What would my father think if he knew his son was a draft-dodger?" The question had been running through Liam's head all week, and he still couldn't wrap his head around it. Other than the obvious irony of the situation, Liam could not help but feel ashamed. He didn't think he could bear the guilt, nor did he think he could live with the label of "draft-dodger" hovering over his head for the rest of his life. And yet every fiber in his being told him that voluntarily shipping off to his death was unimaginable. He was like a character in a novel whose feet were frozen to the floor, unable to move forward towards whatever was around the corner.

On the eve of the eleventh day, Mrs. Duffy was awakened at 3 am to a distant sound she couldn't quite place. Thinking nothing of it she quickly returned to her slumber. The next morning she conducted her usual routine: make her bed, prepare a breakfast of eggs and sausage, bring in the newspaper. Only this time something was amiss; she noticed that Liam's pick-up truck wasn't parked on the curb as usual. She went up to his room and knocked on the door; there was no answer. She opened it to find an empty room, and a letter on the bed.

"I'm on my way to Canada. I wish it didn't have to come to this. I'm sorry that I'm not my father. I love you."