Love on Leave

by Leah McDonnell

  Things are getting back to normal and I don’t want to risk it with another Gatlinburg repeat.

  After our goodnights, the couples head to their perspective rooms on the floor. Leaving Davis and me alone for the first time. He’s awake but appears to be in a drunken fog.

  “Crap! I’ll be right back. My bag’s in Lana’s car and there’s no way in hell I can sleep with my contacts in.” I catch her before they make it to Artie’s room.

  Thanks to my barf fest, I’ve sobered up some, but still stagger as I make my way to the car. I scan the lot again for any sign of Max and catch myself slightly disappointed he’s still out. “I guess he’s with her,” I say out loud to no one.

  By the time I finally make it back to the room, I’m dead tired and in desperate need of Ibuprofen and a bed. I try to open the door, but it’s locked. I’m forced to knock and stir Davis from his cozy position.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to make you get up,” I say when he opens the door, wearing nothing but his boxers.

  He hiccups. “These damn doors open from the inside, even if it’s locked. It’s annoying as shit. So don’t close the door all the way if you have to leave again.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I remember Drew telling me about that.”

  “I bet I’ve locked myself out at least two dozen times,” he slurs, before staggering out for a last-minute bathroom run.

  I shuffle through my bag for my contacts case and spot an 8X10 frame, lying face down on the dresser. So of course, I do what any nosey person would do and flip it over…

  Department of the Army Certificate of Achievement

  Sgt. John Patrick Davis

  In recognition of your outstanding performance in Artillery Regiment Combatives

  Fort Benning, Georgia. February 10, 1994

  Your achievement reflects great credit upon yourself, your unit and The United States Army

  Hmm! He looks like a John. It fits him. Curious, I slip open the door to his wardrobe. His uniforms are neatly hung across the wooden rod. His formal ones still in dry-cleaning plastic, tucked in the back. I run my fingers across his medals, patches, and ribbons, hanging in a plastic organizer on the inside of the door. Polished boots line perfectly across the bottom. I spot a thick stack of papers on the top shelf and thumb through a few. They’re all certificates, similar to the framed one, all acknowledging different work achievements.

  I change into my favorite oversized Snoopy T-shirt and settle into Davis’s bed. It’s comfortable and I can smell his cologne on the sheets. I lay thinking about the words I’ve read.

  How did I go this long and not know his first name is John? Or that he is a freakin’ Sergeant? I’ve known this entire time he was in the Army, but reading his accomplishments is oddly eye-opening. He’s always so damn cavalier about life. Learning he’s such a decorated member of the military shocks me for some reason. He may play it off, but it’s evident he takes a lot of pride in what he does.

  “Thanks for letting me crash in here,” I say as he slips back into the room.

  “I know you probably feel weird being here,” he says. Both of us know why, without having to say Max’s name. “So always know you can crash in here anytime you like.”

  I don’t respond. There’s no point. But I am appreciative of the open invite.

  The music is still on, but not as loud as it had been earlier. Led Zeppelin is playing and he’s badly singing along to “Stairway to Heaven.”

  “I think I hear a dog howling outside.”

  He cracks a smile. “You making fun of my singing?”

  I chuckle as he flips off the light and stumbles back to the couch. We lay in silence, listening to the music. Finally allowing exhaustion to set in.

  The ridiculously long song ends and I couldn’t be happier it’s finally over. But seconds later, the first few guitar riffs begin to play again.

  “Uhhhh? Do you have this song on repeat?”

  He chuckles. “It definitely sounds like I do.”

  “Oh no, no, no!” I say, shaking my head. “You’re going to have to turn this shit off. My head’s pounding hard enough as is.”

  “Ok, Ok. I will,” he mumbles. “Let me listen through the end and I’ll turn it off, I promise.”

  I cave to his compromise. “Fair enough.”

  I listen for a few and begin to doze off.

  “Hey, Kate?”

  Startled, I rub my eyes and yawn out a sleepy, “Yeah?”

  “I’m glad you came tonight,” he mumbles. “It was good seeing y….”

  “Davis?”

  No answer.

  “Davis!” I yell. Louder this time. “You’re going to have to turn off the music.”

  He still doesn’t budge, so I try throwing a pillow at him. I’m going to fucking kill him!

  After a failed attempt to turn the music off, I lay staring at the ceiling, as the song plays over and over. Sounding louder and louder with every note. And now, to make matters worse… he’s snoring. Errrr! I can’t figure out his high tech system, the remote’s nowhere to be found, and I can’t reach the back to unplug it. This can’t be happening! It’s like Chinese water torture in here! I toss and turn, trying desperately to drown out the noise. I throw my arm, the pillow, and the blanket over my head, but it’s useless. “Stairway to Heaven” my ass! Stairway to HELL is more appropriate!

  It’s three in the morning, I’m wide awake, annoyed and dying to pee. I fling the covers off and jump from the bed. Leaving my glasses behind, but grabbing a cigarette from my secret stash before slipping out. Thankful the restrooms are right across the hall, so I can slip over as I am.

  I sit in the chilly stall, smoking my cigarette, reveling in the joy of complete silence. Dreading the thought of having to go back into my own personal hell. I rest my head against the cold metal partition and watch a tiny spider pop in and out from the adjoining stall.

  I savor every minute of my Led Zeppelin reprieve and reluctantly make my way back across the empty hall. I reach for the handle when it hits me.

  “Oh shit!” I yell out, trying to turn the locked knob.

  Son of a… I completely forgot about the damn lock! I tap on the door, hoping by some miracle I can wake Davis without waking the entire floor in the process.

  Tap, Tap, Tap.

  No answer. Nothing but the sounds of that damn song.

  I tap harder this time. TAP, TAP, TAP.

  Nothing.

  I wait quietly for the song to end and knock during the few seconds break before the loop begins again.

  Nothing.

  Don’t freak out! I tell myself, realizing I’m standing in the middle of the bright hallway, barefoot, in only a T-shirt and panties. Unable to see three feet in front of me without my glasses, I give it one last shot; knocking as loud as I can. Dismissing any concern for the surrounding neighbors.

  Nothing.

  “Dammit!”

  I give up and make my way to Artie’s room, hoping desperately I can at least get one of them to answer. Unfortunately, between no glasses, the booze, and pure exhaustion, I’m not a hundred percent sure I have the right door.

  You’ve got to be kidding me! They all look the same. White walls, white doors. One after the other. I knock lightly, praying it’s the right room.

  No answer, so I knock harder. Panic begins to set in, worried I might be stuck out here until God only knows when. I lean against the wall and collapse to my feet as tears begin to stream down my cheeks.

  I should have kept my ass in Auburn.

  I make a sad attempt to look at the bright side. The fluorescent lights are bright enough to land a plane, but at least it’s quiet. Defeated, I curl into a ball and close my eyes, desperately trying to push past the pounding in my head enough to doze off.

  It feels like it’s only been minutes when the faint sound of laughter carries through the hall. Am I dreaming? The voices get closer and louder. No, I’m not dreaming! Forcing my eyes open as they make their way up the stairs. I squ
int to see who it is but I can only see shadows without my glasses. They’re walking towards me as embarrassment sets in. Perfect! As if this couldn’t get any more humiliating.

  “Whatcha doin’ out here all by yourself, doll?” One of the guys whispers loudly down the long hall.

  I take a deep breath and attempt to play it cool. “Oh, I accidentally locked my silly ass out,” I say nonchalantly, quickly wiping tear stains from my cheeks before they get any closer.

  When they make it to me, I can finally three fuzzy images of them and by their boisterous behavior, it’s clear they’ve been out partying.

  Two of them stoop around me. “Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing,” one says, making me slightly uncomfortable.

  “How long have you been sitting out here?” the other asks.

  I’m not up for the small talk, but I’m in no position to be rude. “I’m not sure. I ran to the restroom and came back to a locked door.”

  “Oh yeah, they’ll open from the inside, even if they’re locked on the outside,” the one standing chimes.

  No shit, Sherlock! Or I wouldn’t be sitting in the fucking hallway in my underwear, like an idiot! I bite the urge to be a bitch and opt for the sweeter route.

  “Yep, learned the hard way, I guess,” I say, forcing a smile.

  “You couldn’t get Artie up?”

  Well, at least I had the right room.

  “No, I tried knocking about fifty times, but was worried I’d piss off the entire floor if I kept it up.”

  “Well, you can come crash in our room if you like,” the one standing says.

  “ABSOLUTELY NOT!”

  All four of us whip our heads towards the voice approaching. It’s only a silhouette, but I know exactly who it is. Just when I think my night can’t get any worse.

  “Where the hell did you go, Maxi?

  “I had to piss,” he snips.

  “Come meet our new friend!”

  He’s five feet away from me now, finally coming into focus. So close I can smell him.

  “What are you doing out here, Kate?”

  I look up, but I’m unable to speak. I want to sink into the floor as every fiber in my body fights the urge to cry.

  “Oh, you know her?” he’s asked.

  I meet his gaze for a split second, then it falls to his shiny gold band.

  “I do,” he answers. “She’s a friend of mine.” His voice wavering at the end.

  There is something in his choice of words that instantly infuriates me, causing my heart to grow ice cold. Friends, huh?

  “She locked herself out,” one answers for me. The other adding, “Poor things been sitting out here for an hour.”

  Fueled by jealousy and pain, the sudden need to lash out takes over. “If the offer still stands to crash in your room…,” I say, popping to my feet.

  “Hell yeah, the offer still stands!” Immediately followed by “Um, do you have purple underwear on?”

  As if I’m not even here, Max begins spouting orders. “No!” he says firmly. “I’ll crash with y'all. Kate can take my room.”

  The others realize quickly Max is in no mood for a debate. The plan is non-negotiable, without any regard to what I might have wanted to do. But I’m too tired and mentally drained to argue about it.

  Annoyed and confused, I stomp off in the direction of Max’s room. He grabs me by the wrist and begins walking towards another door. The tears I’ve been fighting flood my eyes the second he touches me.

  He’s moved since I was last here. This room is bigger and he’s personalized it more than the other. I stand in the center looking around, wondering if he’s going to take the opportunity to explain everything now that I’ve literally been delivered to his doorstep.

  The awkwardness between us is as loud as the music in Davis’s room. Without saying a word, he grabs a change of clothes from a laundry basket. I turn my back, not knowing if he plans to change in here. Instead, he hands over a pair of gray ARMY athletic shorts, clearly wanting me to cover up.

  A framed 5X7 photo of Max and a girl who I can only assume is her, is sitting on the small window ledge above his bed. They’re smiling in front of a Christmas tree, both appearing ridiculously happy. I close my eyes, desperately trying to keep my anger in check. I turn around when the door creaks open. He’s leaving and I can’t stop the urge to hurt him as much as I am.

  “How’s the wife, Max? Been busy picking out china patterns and baby names?”

  He looks over with pain in his eyes and I immediately regret saying it. I feel terrible but refuse to let it show. I turn away and climb into his neatly made bed as he closes the door without saying a word. I lay engulfed in his world and cry myself to sleep.

  I manage to get a couple of hours of sleep and for a brief moment, wonder if I dreamt the entire night. But I’m quickly hit with a 5X7 reality check. Their ridiculous smiles taunting me as I crawl from Max’s bed. I feel like death, smell like a whiskey factory, and now noticing I have a tiny chunk of barf stuck in my hair. I’m living an actual nightmare! I have to get out of here. Leave and never step foot in this God-forsaken place again.

  I look over to see what time it is, but it’s blocked. What the hell is that? I lean closer and spot a small white envelope with “Kate” written on the outside, propped against the alarm clock. My hand shakes as I slowly reach for the letter. He’s been in here this morning. He was right here beside me, close enough to touch and I didn’t know; never heard a sound. I stare at my name as a million thoughts of what it might say flood my mind. I tear the corner open but stop. Too afraid to read his words.

  It’s nine-thirty in the morning and I’m desperate to get home. I’m thankful Max is nowhere in sight and the door to Artie’s room is open. He and Lana are lying in bed, comparing feet sizes when I walk in.

  “Damn! Rough night?” Lana asks.

  I shake my head. “There are no words.”

  An hour and two, weepy, lovesick goodbyes later, we’re finally headed north. I wait until Lana and Ashley finish telling all about their amazing, perfect, loving, make me want to rip my ears off, night, before letting them in on my disastrous eight hours.

  “Well, you won’t believe this… but… I slept in Max’s room last night!” I blurt.

  “WHAT!?” Lana shouts, running two wheels of the car off the road.

  It takes me over an hour to catch them up on the entire ordeal. And by the time I finish, I’m as angry, hurt, and confused as ever.

  “So you haven’t opened the letter yet?” Ashley asks.

  I pull the envelope out of my purse. His small, neatly written, handwriting staring up at me.

  “Don’t stare at it, Kate! Open it!” Lana demands.

  “I can’t. Not right now. I just…”

  “Well, it sounds like he still cares for you,” Ash says, gingerly. “So much so he’d risk having you in his room, so you didn’t have to sleep with strangers.”

  “But why not take the opportunity to talk to me. It was like I was delivered on a silver platter and he still didn’t have the balls to explain things.”

  “Maybe he was too ashamed or embarrassed. Maybe that’s why he left the letter instead,” Lana says.

  I don’t respond. I sit in a mental fog as my mind and heart pull me in a million different directions. I trace the A and the R of the word Army, printed on the shorts I couldn’t bring myself to part with.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Artie’s 22nd Birthday

  They say time heals all wounds, but for me maybe a small white envelope holds the key to healing mine. A week has passed and I have yet to muster the courage to open the letter Max left for me. It’s sitting on my dresser, begging to be opened. But I’m too afraid. Too afraid it will be the closure I so desperately need, but do not want. Closure would mean having to admit it’s over. The pain is what keeps him real. A constant reminder, that even though it was only for a brief moment, he was mine.

  A hard knock on our apartment door shakes me out o
f my daze.

  “Lanaaaaa!?”

  “What?” she yells, from the bathroom.

  “I think Artie’s here.”

  “He’s not supposed to be here for another hour.”

  “Well, someone’s knocking!”

  “Can you get it, pleaseeeee? I just got in the shower!” she whines through the door.

  I’d been dreading this visit from the moment it was planned. It’s incredibly hard to keep the jealousy monster contained as is. Having to witness it in the confines of my home is downright torture.

  I swing the door open. “Welcome to the nuthouse!”

  Artie greets me with a huge smile and hug.

  His chin drops. “Holy shit! Look at this place!” he says as he and Santos walk in.

  “Between this sweet ass apartment and all the lavish weekends you two go on, y’all are officially spoiled rotten!”

  “Rurnt! As they say in the South!” Santos jokes.

  “What can I say, our parents love us!” I say admittedly, scanning our beautifully furnished two-bedroom apartment, overlooking the swimming pool.

  “Where’s my gorgeous girlfriend?” he asks. A familiar jolt of envy punches my gut.

  “She’s in the shower and Ash should be pulling up any minute."

  Artie grins devilishly. “She’s in the shower, eh?”

  I shake my head. “The bathroom is down the hall, third door on the right, ya big perv!”

  Santos and I bust out in laughter when Lana screams a few seconds later.

  “Those two are a mess,” he chuckles.

  “They’re definitely two peas in a pod, that’s for sure!”

  We take seats in the living room and continue to make small talk for as we wait for the others.

  “You excited about Six Flags tomorrow?”

  “You better believe it! I’ve been in Georgia over two years and this is the first time I’ve been able to take leave to go.”

  “I guess Ashley’s persuasion helped motivate you.”

  “She’s pretty damn awesome, I won’t lie,” he admits

  “Well, I have no doubt you guys will have a fantastic time. The weather is supposed to be nice and since school’s back in, it shouldn’t be too terribly crowded.”