Josiah Marquez

Four years ago...


One year, twelve months... In a damn military boarding school. I hated every second of that place. I despised that damn haircut. On top of that, I was forced to keep my hair in its natural color. Man, I hated all of it.
I was called Marquez, the same name Cristian was called in the military. Fucking hell... It was really a mess!
When I started the boarding school, I knew my father loved to exploit the news of a son embracing a military career, a son following in his footsteps, the path of duty and service to the country. He had started his shitty plan, the perfect lineage. I had no doubt that the next step for that bastard would be to try to push me into politics.
It had been twelve months of that routine, waking up at five in the morning, going to sleep strictly at 11:00 PM, sharing the dorm with 29 other guys. My days were systematically divided between classes, physical training like swimming, obstacle courses, shooting... And I still had to study after dinner. The lights were turned off and on at the same time every day. We were responsible for cleaning the entire dormitory.
Luckily, I had three really cool guys to keep me from going insane, because, throughout my life, I never managed to follow rules without a fight. I hated being subordinate, and there, in that school, I answered to many instructors and superiors.
I met men who were completely passionate about that career. People who proudly carried family dreams, honoring their parents' wishes to pursue a military career and serve the country. But along with Bernardo, I quickly became friends with two other guys who hated being there.
Bill was two years older than me. He had studied hard to get into the school because he had always heard that a military career would provide him with a stable life. He came from a humble family and, besides being a tattoo artist, he was also a barber. He spoke very little but made it clear that he felt that place was not for him, that he only realized he didn’t fit in once he arrived. For starters, he was a big fan of smoking weed, and in that school, it was strictly forbidden. The guy was also passionate about tattoos, and he said it was very relaxing and calming for him. I thought the things he told me were really cool and even dreamed of one day opening a tattoo studio. At that moment, Bill smiled widely and told me that one day we could start a place called Ravina. I asked why that name, and he laughed, saying he just liked the word. Bernardo, very discreet, to put it mildly, asked why he didn’t just quit and go back to being a tattoo artist. Bill replied that he hadn’t had the courage yet and was waiting to see if the Sergeant rank would make him want to continue in the career.
Then there was Harry… Damn, he was a really cool guy. We had an “instant connection.” First, because the guy had an eccentric appearance. His face was covered in piercings, which he had to remove to get in. Second, his story was similar to mine. His grandfather forced him to become a soldier under the promise that if he didn’t follow the orders, he would be disinherited. He came from a wealthy family and said he joined just to shove it in his grandfather’s face that, even as a soldier, he would still be the “black sheep” because nothing would change him. And, in the end, I think he was right. Harry clearly didn’t fit in that place because he was always using slang and sometimes infuriated our superiors with his disdain. I saw the time when my friend would end up getting into trouble with his contemptuous looks toward the superiors whenever they turned their backs.
Bernardo started off very enthusiastic, but there were some real assholes who would occasionally mock him for having a nasal voice, as well as homophobic jokes. And God knew… I only didn’t smash those bastards’ faces in because I’d get expelled, and that could enrage Cristian, who would take it out on the two women I loved.
There was one thing that fascinated me about that choice: military exercises. Sometimes we had to swim across rivers, carrying our equipment with bravery, and there were times when I was so exhausted that I thought about quitting. You know who didn’t let me? My trio of buddies, motivating me. “Come on, man! You can do it. Don’t you want to tell Ana that you swam across a damn river in the middle of the night?” Bill would say. “Don’t give up, Jow, I’m right behind you,” Bernardo would add. I loved seeing Ber’s determination and energy.
Leda, his mother, was shocked when we told her that her son passed the test. And in her family, no one believed Bernardo would make it; they considered him a weakling. It was incredibly proud to see how that guy, the brother life gave me, was tireless.

There was one exercise where we were in the middle of the woods, with three-degree weather and no food. The realization that we’d have to hunt was Harry’s idea, and when we finally found a rabbit, no one had the courage to kill it. Man, hunger and thirst were destroying us, and it was Bernardo who had the skill to understand that we really needed to kill the animal to feed ourselves. He was praised by our superiors for providing food in a critical situation and taking action consistent with the circumstances, focusing on his and his team's survival.
It was this heavy part of our training that did us good, however contradictory it might seem. As frightening as it was, spending hours in the field, carrying weapons, gave me an absurd sense of being alive. And whenever I thought about quitting, I remembered that those nights in the field, wet and exposed, pushed to my limits, were for the two women I loved most in the world. It was for my mother to live well, to save the life of my Sweetheart. And when I was promoted to Sergeant, I would marry her. I would marry my soulmate. And all of it would be worth it.
On the weekends when I could, I’d catch a flight to Rio and spend a lot of time with Ana, kissing her, making it clear that she was the love of my life, the sole object of my desire.
Whenever I got home, my mother would cry when she saw me. Sometimes, my queen’s emotion, showering me with kisses, almost made me shed tears.
It was February, I was nineteen, and my Sweetheart had finally come of age. Besides releasing her first book, a psychological thriller called *Dark Dress*, she had finally started studying what she loved; she began her degree in Literature.
I managed to attend the launch of her first book, and there were several readers she had met through an online app. They stared at me while Ana mentioned that I was the handsome guy she had talked about, and I saw many shy smiles in the girls' eyes.
She looked so beautiful, in a black jumpsuit, her hair straightened, with lovely makeup. She was so elegant and seemed so mature. I felt like the luckiest guy in the world.