I Hate to Stand Alone

by Casey Winter

  I trail off, going silent. If Hannah pressed, if she asked me to keep talking, I think I’d close up. But she doesn’t. She just sits there, looking up at me patiently, content to hold my hand and wait.

  It takes a long time for me to continue. When I reach for my coffee, it’s cold. We share a small smile when I wince at the surprise, and then she prods me lightly, playfully, somehow making this easier.

  Laying the coffee down, I say, “It was my whole unit, all the boys. Twenty of the best men you’d ever meet. Most of them had wives and kids. We were confident. We’d been on tough missions before. We knew how to handle ourselves, and so we went in there with good intel and all the firepower we’d ever need.

  “But … it got bad, Hannah. When we got to the town, there were about five times the number of insurgents that we thought there’d be. But the target was there, too. We got a clear visual on him and confirmed his ID. Some of the boys wanted to press in that night, and screw the numbers. But our commander was one smart man, and he didn’t have a shred of ego holding him down, so our plan was to retreat and call for additional backup.

  “But on our way back up the mountain, they hit us. They hit us hard.”

  She tenses beside me. Maybe something in my voice changed. It’s like I’m back there. I hear the snapping of bullets smashing into the tree bark. I hear the ah of Red Charlie as a bullet bites into the back of his knee.

  “Contact,” Harrison roared.

  “And then it was a gunfight,” I whisper. “One hell of a gunfight. Goddamn, Hannah, I’ve never been in a fight like that, before or since. It was … it was hell. It lasted three days straight, since those bastards seemingly had endless men. They just kept sending them. We eliminated more than they did. But they had the numbers, and they began to whittle us down.”

  I pause, taking a deep breath. My hand is clenching her forearm, I realize. “Oh,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, Hannah.”

  “Hush,” she says quietly. “You have nothing to apologize for, Luke.”

  “At the end of the three days, there were only five of us left. Our radios were busted and they had anti-aircraft capabilities, so our helos couldn’t get to us.”

  “Helos?”

  “Helicopters.”

  “Oh, yeah. Silly me.”

  I kiss her for no reason, except maybe how adorable she is. “They’d swoop in,” I go on. “We’d all cheer, and then the insurgents would fire a RPG and they’d be forced to retreat. It was a complete mess.

  “We ended up in this abandoned shepherd’s hut, this wooden thing poked full of holes. The five of us set up the best defense we could. But they just didn’t stop, Hannah. They just kept coming, over and over and over.

  “I was fixing to die in that hut. I think we all were. We talked about how we were ready for it. We joked that we’d come back as ghosts and haunt these bastards until the end of time. Right up until the end, the boys were joking, the boys were in good spirits.”

  I realize my eyes are watery. I clear my throat, and then get up and go to the water cooler.

  With my back turned, I take a sip and rub at my eyes, getting myself together. I sit down and go on, “Then it was time for another gunfight, and my four boys were all slaughtered like dogs. I was hit several times, but, somehow, I kept going. I’ll never know how. I guess Uncle Sam really knows how to train his SEALs. Anyway, there wasn’t much time left for me. I knew that. I managed to hold them off for a couple of hours on my own. Everybody called me a hero for that, said I was one bad, bad SEAL.

  “I didn’t feel like a hero. I felt like dirt for being the only one left alive.”

  “Then what happened?” Hannah says when I trail off. Her voice is strangled. She doesn’t try to hide her tears. “Luke?”

  “Then backup came,” I say, voice bitter. “I was lying on my back, almost passed out. I could hear the insurgents just outside the hut. Then I hear shooting—and then I do pass out. The next thing I know, I’m on a stretcher and then I black out again. They finally managed to land a helo in the next valley over after clearing out some insurgents that were holding them back. Then it was just a matter of clearing the mountains and getting to us .Well … me.”

  For a long time, we just sit there.

  I wipe at Hannah’s cheeks as warm tears slide down her skin. And Hannah cuddles closer to me. I’ve never felt more intimate with her, more exposed. Surprisingly, the regret I expected to grip me doesn’t come. I feel oddly content.

  “Thanks for telling me that, Luke,” she says after a long while, hugging closer to me. “I know it was hard. But, I dunno … I hope you feel better, I mean, if you can ever feel better. This isn’t coming out properly. So much for being Miss Armchair Psychologist.”

  “I know what you mean,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head. “Thanks for listening, I guess. And yeah, I do, weirdly. I’ll never feel good about it. I’ll never wear that Cross with pride. But I guess the world’s still turning.”

  “Did you think it was going to end if you told someone?” she teases, very lightly.

  “Yes,” I say seriously. “I did. Goddamn, Hannah, I … I do feel lighter. I feel strange. I feel almost drunk. What the hell is that?”

  She leans up and finds my lips. We kiss briefly. “I think that’s called relief, frogman. Look at me, Luke.” I do. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she says firmly. “You did your job. And the fact that you survived and they didn’t, that doesn’t make you a bad person. If one of your friends had survived, would you want them beating themselves up for the rest of their lives because you didn’t get to leave the valley?”

  “No,” I admit. “Hell no.”

  “You’re a hero,” she says. “I don’t care that you want to downplay it. That’s the truth. And I’m proud of you.”

  I grab her face with both of my hands.

  I kiss her, hard.

  “I don’t want this to end,” I say quietly, loving the feeling of her balmy breath on my lips when I break the kiss off. “I feel guilty for Noah, still. Even now, after what you told me, I feel guilty. And I know that pisses you off. It’s all a confused mess. We both know that. But I want to see where this can lead, that’s the stone-cold truth of it, Hannah.”

  “I want that, too,” she says. “But it’s still—”

  “Complicated.”

  “Yeah.”

  I sigh. “Yeah.”

  After a pause, I say, “Listen, I’ve kept you for long enough. Let me walk you back to your mom’s room. We’ll speak tomorrow?”

  “Okay, sure,” she mutters.

  We stand and, holding hands, we head down the hallway.

  —

  We’re still holding hands when we reach Teresa’s room, when I hold the door open for her and kiss her goodbye. The kiss comes naturally. It just feels like the thing to do with Hannah now, the same way I’ve kissed her goodbye every day this past week. Only this time, her mother is here, and she’s awake.

  She and her friend—I’m guessing it’s Alejandra, who Hannah has mentioned a few times—are in the middle of a conversation. But she cuts it off, stunned.

  “Oh my God,” she whispers. Her voice is raspy from the operation. It sounds like there are razorblades in her mouth. “Hannah, what—why—Hannah, why is he here?”

  Hannah steps away from me like I’m on fire. Absurdly, a brief feeling of betrayal spikes through me, painful and discomfiting. Hannah gawps at me, and then at her mom, and then back at me. Finally, she turns to Teresa and says something in Spanish.

  Whatever it is, her mom clearly doesn’t like it. She sits up in bed and yells something, and then wheels on me. She looks fierce and protective. Despite the situation, I’m glad that Hannah has been blessed with such a caring lioness of a mother.

  “You, Nelson,” she snaps. “Are you here to hurt my daughter? Monstruo. You and your father and your brother. All of you. Get out of here. Get away from my daughter.”

  “Mom, stop it,” Hannah cries. “Luke, I’m sorry. I�
�m so sorry.”

  But her mother doesn’t stop. Switching back to Spanish, she hurls insult after insult at me. I hear Noah’s name several times.

  I back away, out of the room, before I let my anger get the better of me. Teresa is a good woman and she’s going through a lot, to put it mildly. It’s understandable that she’s shocked by the sight of me kissing her daughter. But, despite what I’ve learned about Noah, he was still my little brother and hearing him cursed out isn’t something I’m going to just stand around and listen to.

  Hannah follows me out, closing the door behind her. “Luke, I didn’t know she’d … Oh, God, this is messed up.”

  I go to her—relieved that the blinds are closed—and put my hand on her arm. Through the wall, we can both hear her mother and Alejandra bickering in Spanish. And we both pretend that we can’t. “It’s okay,” I tell her, giving her a squeeze. “Go and be with your mother. She needs you. We’ll talk later.”

  “Luke, I—”

  But I’ve already turned away, striding for the exit.

  I came to this hospital to comfort her, to be there for her if she needed me. Instead, I showed her a part of myself I vowed always to keep hidden. And I upset her mom, her sick mom, her mom who has cancer.

  What is wrong with me?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hannah

  How can so much happen in one night?

  That’s the question I keep asking myself when I wake up the next morning, stiff from being curled up in the chair. Mom is already awake and Alejandra, it turns out, has already left.

  I rub sleep from my eyes, sitting up, surprised that I didn’t dream. Or, if I did, that I don’t remember it. When Luke told me about that SEAL stuff, that horror he lived through, it was like he was opening a door directly onto his soul.

  He tried to keep a brave face when he was telling the story, but there were tears in his eyes. He didn’t shed a single one, though. They just stayed there, stuck, and when he went on with the story, it was in a colder, more distant tone.

  It all seemed perfect. I mean, me and Luke did, the closeness. I’m not saying what happened to him was perfect, obviously. But the story brought us closer together. I’ve told him something I’ve never told anybody, and now he’s done the same. If that doesn’t mean something, I’m clearly in some sort of upside-down world.

  But then we came back here, to the room, and Mom went off on him, scaring him away. I should’ve anticipated it. It was stupid to bring Luke back here. But I got comfortable. I didn’t even want him to leave, honestly.

  So I let my guard down, just like he did.

  Now, Mom is sitting up in bed, flipping through a magazine. “The doctor says he can check me out whenever,” she says, staring at the magazine like, if she looks away, something terrible will happen.

  Maybe it will: we’ll have to acknowledge last night’s argument. Well, it wasn’t really an argument, after that first burst of anger from Mom against Luke. It was more like a long, awkward silence until we both fell asleep. Mom didn’t mention it. Neither did I.

  I didn’t know where to start. Plus, heck, she has cancer. She’s allowed a little leeway. And she only has my best interests at heart, always.

  But now, I can’t stop myself. The words are out before I plan them. “Luke isn’t Noah, Mom,” I say quietly. “Luke is a good man. He’s good to me.”

  “Hmm,” Mom says, still not looking up. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, Hannah. How can a stranger be good to you?”

  “He’s not a stranger,” I snap. “He’s my … he’s Luke.”

  “Whatever you say. I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “But they’re not the same,” I persist. “Luke is kind, caring. Strong. Protective. He’s a man of his word. He cares about people. He’s good to his friends and his family. Even his dad, even if they have problems, he’s helping him with his business …”

  “Okay, Hannah,” she mutters. “Like I said, I’m really not in the mood for this discussion.”

  She’s using her I’m-disappointed-in-you voice, the same one she’d use when I failed an exam or got into some trouble growing up. I haven’t heard it often since graduating high school, which just makes it sting all the more.

  I sink into the chair, checking my phone. There are a couple of texts from Penny, both of them asking how we’re doing, and then a single text from Luke. After responding to Penny’s, I open mine and Luke’s conversation.

  Stay strong, twinkle toes xoxo

  I text back: Same to you. Are we going to see each other soon? Xoxo

  I put my phone away and stand up. “Shall we get going, then, Mom?”

  Sighing slightly, she nods, finally glancing up from her a magazine. For a brief moment, I get an image of her with wavy black hair rolling down to her shoulders, the hair she used to grow super-long, so long at one point that it trailed down past her bottom. I bite back a sob. She sees this, softening.

  “Oh, little monkey,” she sighs. “Don’t cry. Please, don’t. You’ll get me started.”

  “I’m not crying, Mom,” I lie, choking back the tears. “Come on, I’ll go and see about getting you discharged.”

  Half an hour later—after the doctor has given Mom some instructions on her medication and rest—we head out to the car. I place my hand on her arm, wanting to steady her. But there’s no need, really, because she moves pretty well considering all that’s happened. I lead her out to my Beetle. “I know they’re not the same person,” she says quietly as I open the door for her. “But they have the same family …”

  “But it wasn’t Russel Nelson who—who I broke up with, Mom.”

  She bites down, looking at me strangely. Then, with a sigh, she climbs into the car. “Maybe not,” she mutters quietly. “But that man is poison, simply poison.”

  “Who do you mean?” I ask. “Luke or Russel?”

  She gives me that look again, but then turns for her seatbelt, averting her gaze. “I don’t want to talk about this,” she says with passion. “Okay? Can you give me that at least, Hannah? Can you give me some peace before this horrid cancer finishes me off?”

  I feel a stab in my belly. The thing is, when a relative has cancer, you can’t argue with them, not like you would otherwise. So I just say, “Of course, Mom. Whatever you want.”

  I shut the door and walk around to the driver’s side, only noticing that Graham is standing a few yards away when I happen to glance up. He looks terrible, drained of all color, sort of ghostly. His hair is a mess and he’s not in his nurse’s scrubs. “Hannah,” he says, striding over to me.

  I’m immediately wary. Since our exchange in the Fork-N-Spoon, I haven’t seen him. Honestly, I’ve had bigger things on my mind. Mom’s current round of chemo has come to an end, so we’ve had no reason to cross paths. And, before that, he happened not to be on shift when we arrived.

  “Graham,” I mutter.

  He grins lightly, looking for a second like the nervous, excited little boy who declared his love to me and stalked me for two weeks. “I just wanted to say sorry,” he says. He looks fidgety, unable to stay still. “About the diner. Darn it, Hannah, I was just drunk, y’know? I didn’t know what the heck I was thinking. I didn’t mean to come across like that. I’m really not that sort of person.”

  “It can’t happen again, Graham,” I warn him. “We’re going to run into each other from time to time. This isn’t like my other visits, before Mom got sick. This isn’t in-and-out. I can’t be worried that you’re … thinking about betraying Denise like that.” Reminding him that he is married—to the most popular girl in high school, no less—seems like a good idea right now. “I don’t want to be put in that position. Plus, you’ve got kids to worry about, too.”

  He nods his head, chastened for a moment. But then his lips twist bitterly. “Some family,” he snarls. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I don’t wanna burden you with it. But it’s a joke. It really is. The relationship has no love in it, none at all. It never did. The
only reason she kept the damn kid in the first place is because she thought I was going to be rich—”

  “It’s really none of my business,” I say, making for the car door.

  “But it’s true,” he yells, stepping forward. Full of anger, he looks far more dangerous than his short stature and podgy belly would suggest. “I was talking myself up, you know, like people do. Telling her about how I was going to be this famous surgeon, how we’d move out of Little Fall, blah-blah-blah. I didn’t actually expect her to go and believe it.”

  “Graham, I’m honestly not interested—”

  He steps forward again, speaking through clenched teeth. It’s like he’s waited a long time to explain this to me, as though I’d care, as though I haven’t got my own problems to worry about. “I know you’re not,” he sneers, putting his hand on the car door so I can’t close it. “All your visits back to Little Fall, and you didn’t even know I was married to Denise. You didn’t know anything about this town.”

  “That’s right,” I snap. “Because, like I said, my visits were quick. If Mom talked about you or anybody else—which she hardly ever did—I forgot about it. I was living my own life. Is that a fricking crime now?”

  “She thought I was going to be rich—”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “And when I wasn’t, she blamed me for it,” he snaps. “Then we had twins, and then triplets, and I was just a trainee nurse and that isn’t good enough for her. Denise Brown, oh, no, Denise Brown deserves better than that. She’s addicted to credit cards. She’s going to sink our whole ship.”

  “Graham,” I say. “That’s horrible, really. But can you please get away from the car so I can drive my mom home? Please?”

  Finally, he steps away, making a huffing noise like I’m the one in the wrong. “I was just trying to say sorry,” he grunts. “You don’t need to get all dramatic, Hannah. I’m sorry, okay? I’m an evil, twisted person for sharing my problems with the girl who was once my best friend.”