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They can’t afford a vacation. It’s never really bothered them, they have no where they want to go. After spending years unwillingly shipped from place to place, combined with Sledge’s fear of planes and Snafu’s trauma, the two of them would much rather spend the time (and the money) doing something else.
But, once a year, they go out to the lake for a week. Neither of them calls it a vacation, it was barely a days travel from their house, but it was a week of pure bliss.
There’s always chaos the morning of their departure. Snafu never packs ahead of time, leaving him running around the house searching for things and Sledge giving him (un)helpful reminders about where he last left things. Sledge always tells Snafu not to leave it til the last minute next year, and Snafu always promises that he won’t. Although he’s yet to learn from this mistake.
Then comes the car ride, Sledge drives the whole way and Snafu watches the sun rise over the fields, over the trees, until it settles in the sky. They don’t come across anyone else on their drive, the country roads are usually empty aside from the rare farmer. They usually make it to the lake late afternoon, the sun bouncing off the water and the haunting silence of no one being around for miles.
Neither of them bothers with any sort of shelter. Maybe it was their Marine training, but the idea of sleeping under the stars always seemed much more appealing than sleeping in a stuffy tent.
They spend their days fishing, swimming, exploring the woods and bayou and each other. Their evenings are spent wishing on stars and sleeping in a mess of tangled limbs and nightmares.
It’s the highlight of their year.
So, decades later when he’s long since grown accustomed to living alone and falling asleep without Sledge’s comfortable weight next to him, Snafu takes himself out to the lake one more time.
Seven years. Seven summers had passed since Snafu last saw the lake, seven winters without Sledge and the loss still felt as fresh as it did on day one. He still wears the necklace Sledge gave him a lifetime ago, still carries his dog tags in his pocket and his memories heavy on his heart.
The car ride out is slow. The roads are busier than they used to be, cars scream past him and there are less fields. He doesn’t see a single farmer on the drive. It takes longer to get there, Snafu doesn’t get to the lake until the evening. The moon is already out, reflecting on the water and reminding Snafu of what used to be.
There are a few tents scattered around the lake. Families, couples, friends on their vacations. It wasn’t as quiet as it used to be, every now and then there’s a hushed whisper or laugh that ripples across the lake. If he closes his eyes, Snafu can almost hear Sledge’s laughter buried in the trees, calling to him.
He can see Sledge in the woods, running through the fallen trees and ducking under branches. He sees him on the lake, swimming towards him. He’s in the stars, shining as bright as ever. And Snafu finally feels at peace.
The lake becomes known as Lovers Lake.
The stars glow brighter in the summer.
And everyone knows the folklore of the two lovers who finally reunited at the lake.