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Sledge wears a necklace. It’s stupid, he thinks. He knows this one piece of metal won’t bring him luck when he’s out there, fighting in the middle of the Pacific, with a gun in his hand and a grimace on his face. But he likes to think it’ll bring him something. Comfort might be the better words.
It’s not even a fancy necklace. It’s something he found years ago. He was out in the woods, behind his house, on his bike. Summer had just started and he had no plans, nothing except for enjoying the sun and running through the fields. It was getting late, he knew he’d be wanted back home for dinner soon. But something caught his eye, something glistened in the grass. He went to it, picking up the strange object and dangling it between his fingers. It was a gold necklace, with unrecognisable writing on it. He couldn’t leave it in the grass, it was calling to him. So, he slipped it over his head and it settled against his chest, like it was always supposed to be there. He’s not taken it off since.
It had been months. Months and months of gruelling battles, sleepless nights and trauma that humans are never meant to witness. He’s sat with his company, they’re talking about what items they brought from home. He only really cares about one person’s answer, Snafu’s. But before he can answer, the conversation changes.
He asks anyway, not caring that the two of them are no longer in the group discussion. Snafu pulls out the most delicate deck of cards, tarot cards, that Sledge has ever seen. There’s something haunting and loved about the cards, their edges are worn away and the colour is dulled in certain places. They remind him of Snafu.
“What about you, what’d you bring?” Snafu asks.
Sledge’s hand automatically goes to the trinket around his neck. He’s never showed it to anyone before, not his family, or his friends back home. He carefully takes it off, showing it to Snafu.
“I found it one day, years ago. Never took it off, don’t even know what the writing means on it.”
“My heart is your heart,” Snafu whispers.
“Huh?”
“It’s in French, it says my heart is your heart,” Snafu explains.
Sledge feels his heart beating against his chest. “Have it.”
Snafu frowns, “Are you outta your fuckin’ mind? This is yours, not mine.”
“Have it,” Sledge repeats. He hopes Snafu gets at what he is trying to say, what this means to him. “Keep it.”
There’s a moment where neither of them speak. Snafu eventually slides the necklace on, Sledge notices how perfectly it seems to fall into place.
When they get back home, Snafu gets one made for Sledge. It says the same thing, in French. They wear them under their cotton shirts, in the shower, forever resting against the beating of their hearts.