Boot camp was a blur, and the second it was over, I was whisked away to my new station, my new life. And after a few weeks of training, I was on a plane headed for Iraq.
I had no idea what waited for me there.
In the back of my mind, I think I believed that when I finished my first tour, I'd go home and we'd find a way back to each other. A little bit of time was what we needed.
Stupid and young, that was what I was, so angry and betrayed at first that I couldn't see past the feeling. But when I did, I found regret.
I'd been wrong, so wrong, and I hated myself for giving her an ultimatum, for pushing her away. I'd lost her because of my fear. I could have had it all, if I'd only been more brave. If I'd only given her what she'd asked for.
A few weeks into my tour, I found myself in a convoy headed out for supplies with my buddy Perez sitting next to me, smiling and joking as he always did, making light — a useful skill where we found ourselves, when nothing was light or easy. We'd been together since day one of boot camp, not only stationed together but deployed together.
I thought we hit a hole at first — the truck bounced once, and time slowed as gravity shifted. Everything floated for a stretched-out second as the truck flipped, and when we crashed to the ground, there was only nothing, only the deep blackness of unconsciousness sweeping over me.
I came to a few minutes later with my ears ringing, the sound of my name far away, the scent of gasoline and smoke in my nose. And as I got my bearings, I found Perez lying across from me, staring at me. He looked strange, his eyes distant and glassy. Then I noticed the blood that seeped from his head in almost black threads as they wound through his hair and across his forehead.
It was only then that I realized he was dead.
I tried to call his name as they pulled me backward, into the blinding light. Fire, someone yelled — the truck was going to blow — and they dragged me away only a heartbeat before it exploded. Heat passed through us in an unbearable wave, knocking everyone down.
We'd survived. But as I lay in the dirt and sand, I had a singular realization.
I was right to be afraid.
I had nothing to offer Elliot. I had nothing to give her other than pain. If I died here, would she ever recover? Would she ever move on? I regretted so much. I'd hurt her so much. But this was one thing I could spare her.
It was then, in the heat of the desert, that I made the decision not to speak to her again.
At the end of every tour they would ask us who wanted to stay. I volunteered every time.
By the time the war was over, it was too late. It didn't matter that I wished I hadn't gone silent. Because by the time I realized my mistake, it was too big, the distance too far, the wrongs I'd done too deep and wide to breech.
My regret was infinite. And that regret had made me lonely. Angry. It had changed me, twisted me into the man I was now. And now … now it was impossible to see a way back.
I told her now or never, and that mistake would haunt me until the day I died.
6
Thin Soul
Thin soul,
Stretched and pulled
Left to bear the weight
Of the world
On its own.
* * *
-M. White
* * *
Elliot
Sammy spun around in circles next to me, singing a song entirely composed from the word truck, as I slipped Maven's foot into her boot. The morning hadn't been any more hectic than usual, though I felt heavy, weighted. I hadn't slept well, spending so much of the night awake, thinking. There seemed to be so much to think about, and when I got up, I didn't find myself any closer to peace than I had when I lay down.
Instead, I took comfort in the routine of getting the kids ready for school. I'd spend most of my day at work, around books. For two years since I'd graduated, I'd been content not to decide what I wanted to do with my degree, to devote myself to the kids and writing, though I'd recently gotten a job at a book bar that opened near Columbia.
Wasted Words was its name, touting half romance, half comics, and a full bar. I'd convinced the owner, Rose, to add a small poetry section to the library, as well as adding some special edition Jane Austen hardbacks to the mix. Mostly, I kept to myself there, the big store full of big personalities. Being around the books all day, with no one to answer to, no one to be responsible for but myself — that was my happy place.
With everyone ready to go, I carted the kids downstairs and into the entryway where their backpacks hung. Charlie stepped into the foyer, looking a little sheepish.
He was tall and slender, with blond hair and an elegant nose that turned itself up to the world far less than Mary's.
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned on the banister. "Elliot, I wanted to talk to you before you leave."
Maven's hand blindly waved behind her for the backpack strap, and I chased the flailing limb with the loop. "Sure. What's up?"
"Mary told me about your talk last night. I'm really sorry she called you to come home. One hour alone, and she caved." He shook his head.
"Oh, it's all right." I smoothed Maven's hair and moved on to Sammy, who was turning around in a circle looking for his second strap. I touched his shoulders to stop him and slipped the other strap on.
"No, it's not. Listen, I know she told you to pay for the extra daycare, but it's not necessary. We'll take care of it."
I smiled gratefully. "Thank you."
He waved a hand and bent down to pick up Maven as she ran over to him. "Don't thank me. They're our kids, for God's sake. Also, I wanted you to know that we're here to help as much as possible, so if you need to be somewhere in the afternoon, just let me know. Mary or I will pick the kids up and hold down the fort."