1986

It was 1986.

Paul was officially out of his teens, and didn't really have much to show for it. He had been the best on his debate team, as he said he would, and spent the summer in Helena. He thought he would find purpose there, among powerful people making big decisions. Instead, he found nothing but stuffy bureaucrats who did nothing all day but suck each other off over how great of a job they were doing, or, occasionally, sign a few documents. He was ready to go home after the first week.

When he returned, he was disillusioned, but no less determined to make something of himself, if for no other reason than to spite his parents. He knew that they never believed in him. His father even made a point to give him the old 'I told you so' speech on a frequent basis for the first week that Paul had been home. He was again offered a job at the mine, but vehemently refused.

His parents didn't have the money to send him to college, and despite his debate skills and the intelligence that the school counselors oh-so-frequently told him he had, he wasted most of the rest of his high school career smoking weed and drinking with his friend Mike. His grades began to slip; not into a place where he would fail, but far enough that any scholarships were out of the question. In the end, he managed to graduate, but he had no real options from there.

He got a job at the local burger shop, The Humdinger, and by the end of the summer he had saved up enough money to pay for a semester's tuition at the community college in nearby Missoula. He set off with high hopes, but classes were boring and difficult, and trying to find a steady job that would still allow him time to study was nearly impossible. He gave up after two months and came back home in shame.

Not wanting to give his father another chance to berate him, he moved in with Mike, who was starting out as an apprentice at his father's construction company. Paul worked there part-time for a few months to pay rent, and spent most of his free time smoking weed with Mike and talking about all the things in the world that he would fix if he could; making grand plans for a future that he felt slipping between his fingers more and more each day.

It all came to a head when Mike told him that he would be heading to Washington with his new girlfriend to work for her family. Paul felt like he was out of options, except for the one he dreaded the most. He would never, ever give his father the satisfaction of admitting defeat and accepting his job offer, so he did the only other thing he could think to do; he joined the Army.

He figured that he could get in, do his four years, and then go to college on Uncle Sam's dime. Or, if he was a good soldier, he could dedicate his life to it and ingratiate himself within the military power structure, like he'd wanted to do in local government.

His parents, as expected, thought it was a terrible idea. Although they were in peace-time, his father was convinced that the Soviets would strike any day, and that Paul would be a fool to go off and die for no reason. His little sister, Janice, was the only one who supported him. .

For as much as he felt like they were actively working against him, Paul loved his parents; he just didn't like them very much. It wasn't only his father, either. His mother was the type of person that he would call a 'bitch'. Not in the way that men would often use to degrade women, but in the literal sense, she bitched constantly about every single thing she could. Even though they were well off, at least compared to most who lived in the valley, she would tell anyone who would listen how hard things were for them.

It was his last night before he went to boot camp. His extended family had come together for a going away party at his parent's house. They lived in a nicer place on the east-side of town. For all the bad things he could say about his father, the man was frugal, and had managed to save up enough money over the years to get their family a decent place to live. The party was in full swing, and Paul was talking to his aunt, Dee, when his mother came over.

She had been drinking a bit too much, as was often the case when the family got together. Usually this wouldn't lead to anything more than vague complaints about her daily life. This time though, it was different. She put her arm over his shoulder, and he could see the tears in her eyes.

"My baby," she started, already sniffling.

"He's going off to die, you know!" She finished, motioning towards Dee. "He can't take life here, so he's going off to get himself killed!"

Paul sighed and put his arm over her shoulder.

"Relax mom. We're not even at war right now. Everything's going to be fine."

She started to sniffle even more, the tears now fully falling from her face.

"Well, your father says that at any moment it could be World War 3, and from what I see on the news, I agree!"

Dee came in then, putting her arm on his mother's other shoulder.

"Easy, Sharon. The news is full of sensational nonsense.."

She pushed Dee's hand away and shot a glare at her.

"Like you have any idea what I'm going through! You don't even have any kids. You couldn't possibly understand what it's like!"

There it was; the moment in the conversation where his mother had somehow managed to make everything about her. With that, she began to sob, and Paul just shook his head. He saw his father across the room, drinking a beer and looking at him. He took the excuse to walk away from the scene unfolding around him. Whatever shit his father had to dish out, he was sure it would be better than that.

He met his father near the TV, and they knocked their beer bottles together. Frank started to talk, and Paul could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Well, Paulie, no matter what I said before, you should know that I'm proud of you for at least taking some initiative."

Paul smiled. That was something he certainly hadn't been expecting.

His father started again, slurring slightly with each word.

"I know that you're doing it to prove some kind of point, and I think that you'll probably do about as well there as you did here, but at least you're trying."

Paul's smile quickly turned to a frown. That was more of what he expected to happen. Frank was consistent, if nothing else. It was the last night though, so he kept his mouth shut.

Frank moved closer to him.

"I need you to know something else. I'm getting transferred to Utah. They need someone to manage the place, and I guess I'm the guy for the job. Your mom and Janice are coming with me, and we aren't sure when, or if, we're coming back. So just know: if you can't cut it there, there isn't going to be anywhere to come back to. It's time to move on. It may seem harsh, but someday you'll realize that it's for the best."

A little anger, a little relief. Now he knew that he couldn't let himself fail. He would succeed, even if it killed him. Not only to show his father that he was wrong (although that would be nice), but to show himself that he was capable of doing all of the things he always said that he would.

He scanned the party for a friendly face to latch onto, when he caught a glimpse of Janice walking out of the kitchen with a tray of diced hot dogs. He made his way over to her swiftly, trying to avoid getting sucked into the black hole of negativity that was his father.

She was a little over three years younger than him, and although he had drifted away from her after moving out, they still used each other as a buoy in the waves of the never-ending storm that their parents had whipped up around them since they were born.

They would stand up for each other as often as they could, Janice more so than Paul. As the oldest child, and a male, the brunt of his father's bitter fury landed squarely on him. He would occasionally go after Janice, but on those rare occasions, Paul would step in to either take the hit for her, or try to diffuse the situation.

She was short, and a little wide, but had a kind look about her. She had long, curly hair, and large glasses. Her eyes were beady and brown, and they made her glasses look almost comical. She usually radiated a warm glow of happiness around her, despite her circumstances. It was what Paul would miss the most when he was gone.

He covered the room and made his way up to her.

"Made your specialty, eh sis?" he said, pointing at the hot dog slices with the hand that held his beer.

"You really outdid yourself on those," He said with a chuckle.

She laughed. "Fuck yourself. Maybe if you learned how to cook, we'd be eating something else."

"Don't sweat it, kid," he said. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to get better once you don't have me around to annoy you."

She set the tray down on the table and wrapped Paul in a hug. "I want you to annoy me. Don't leave."

He looked down at her. There were tears in her eyes.

He sighed.

"You know I have to. I'll be back soon though, don't you worry about that. I'll come back and get you out of here too. Who knows, maybe when you turn 18 you can sign up too, it might be fun."

She sniffled a bit but let out a small laugh. "I don't think it's for me. I'm not much for guns or exercise. I'm just going to try my best to make it through school, so I can get a scholarship or something. I don't know what else to do, really. There aren't many ways out of this place."

He nodded. "I know. That's why I have to do this. I fucked myself over in school, so now the service is my only shot. You don't need to worry about me. I'll be fine, and you'll do great in Utah without me, I promise."

She released the hug.

"What if you aren't fine, though?" She asked.

"What if, on the million to one shot that dad is right, a war actually does happen? I don't want to think about you out there on the front-lines. Even if you make it back, those things change people."

His anger towards his father was rising steadily. That goddamn loud-mouthed moron was fear mongering his mother and sister into taking his side. He couldn't console his mother, but he could at least get Janice to see reason.

"That's not going to happen. Dad's an idiot, and he knows as much about world politics as I do about building spaceships. He's trying to get you and mom to think that I'm making a mistake. He's bitter that he got stuck here, and jealous that I might be able to actually break the mold and make something of myself."

Janice nodded slowly.

"You're probably right. I'm just going to miss you so much. I don't know if I can handle it here, especially now that we're moving and I'm going to have to start at a new school with no friends."

"Don't you worry about that," he said. "You and I both know how easily you make friends. People see you for who you are and they flock to you.."

He lifted her chin up to look her in the eyes.

"I'll be fine. If anything, I should be the one worried about you. Don't let them break you. No matter what she says, or how negative he gets, don't let them get to you. I'm not going to be able to protect you now, so you'll need to be strong. I know it won't be easy, but you can handle it."

She cracked a sad smile.

"I'm a stone wall; nothing is gonna break me. Just try and make it back in one piece, deal?"

He nodded. He wanted to say something, but he was starting to choke up. Sadness, tinged with regret, flowed through him. He was leaving her to the wolves, but he didn't have a choice. He didn't think he'd be able to live with himself if he came back to find her with that same dull look of crushing desperation and rage that his parents had.

He gave her one last quick hug and walked away to find his friends. If he stayed much longer, he was going to have a breakdown. As the party wore on, and the drinks stacked up, his worry about the future faded away. Eventually, he stumbled his way into his room and passed out on the floor.

He woke up at 6:30 with his alarm. He had a pounding headache, but didn't want to be late; he had to start off on the right foot. There was no room for error. He grabbed his already packed bag, and went out into the living room. He didn't want to have any more sad goodbyes to tempt him off the path, so he set out straight away. He started up his little Ford pickup and hit the road for Missoula.

As he left, he lit a cigarette and rolled down his window, getting one last look at the town as he passed it on the freeway. A wave of emotion washed over him as he drove into the rising sun. As beams of light lit up the valley, he felt a weight lift from his chest. He could breathe, for what felt like the first time in his entire life. He would miss the mountains and the beauty of the valley. He never hated the place because of scenery, he hated the people and the opportunities. He knew there was no future in Mountain West, but he couldn't help but think he was going to miss it when he was gone.

He flicked the cigarette out of the window and reached into his center console. He pulled out his old, worn copy of L.A. Woman and popped it into the eight track player. He held down the fast forward button until he reached his favorite song, Riders on the Storm. He sat back and let Jim's sweet voice and Ray's haunting piano guide him on his mission forward into the future, whatever it might bring.