by L. B. Dunbar
“Yes, you do Levi. You love your child. And you believe in love of country. You fought in a war because of it.”
“I fought to get away, Katie.” The truth sounded shallow, forced out of me by her earnest belief in my goodness. “I needed to get out of that awful town. I had to get away. That’s the only reason I enlisted. College wasn’t going to happen for me. I couldn’t afford it and I wasn’t good enough at basketball for a scholarship.” I stepped back another pace, swiping my hand over my head, before resting it behind my neck. “Don’t try to glamorize me, Katie. It won’t work. I’m no hero. I’m selfish. I went to war to get away, not for something I initially believed.” I sighed heavily at the admission. It solidified my failure as a soldier.
“I don’t believe you. I bet you loved your platoon or your squad or whatever you call it.” She waved her hand at me, scanning up and down my body as if my unit were a part of me, and they had been. She was right. I had loved those men unconditionally. I’d never trusted anyone as much as I trusted them, but I’d let them all down. They had faith in me and I failed them. They gave me love and I gave them…I couldn’t let the thought take me. The memory would consume me like the heat of her mythical dragon, and I’d gladly take the fiery flames of hell, if it meant I could bring those boys back home.
“I can’t talk about this with you.” I stepped farther away from her and faced the scaly, putrid-green-colored creature. My hands gripped the cool metal of the railing separating museum visitors from the display.
“Why not? I’m a good listener. It’s all I did for years. I listened.” The hint to her toddler past did nothing to soothe me.
“It’s not a matter of hearing the words, it’s understanding them. You’d hate me if you knew the things I’ve seen and done.”
She stepped toward me, her fingers gracing the scruff on my jaw, and I found the touch strangely comforting.
“I don’t think so.” She tried to smile, her eyes gleaming with hope that I’d share my darkest secrets with her. Like her mythical creatures, Katie romanticized the unknown-to-her experiences, but there was nothing glorious about watching men die and praying for your own life.
“Can we talk about something else, please?” I begged softly, pressing off the railing.
“Fine,” she said without wincing, defiant and strong. This was not the better she deserved, and she knew it with her tone. Her enthusiasm deterred, and unfortunately, it’s where it needed to be. War wasn’t a fantasy.
* * *
Things were awkward after my outburst, as we finished walking the exhibit. Katie found a picture book in the souvenir shop and bought it for AJ. I should have thought of such a thing, but my mind was elsewhere from the moment we talked about love and my men. Not ready to let her go, especially on an uncomfortable note, I asked her to join me for dinner at my house. Takeout was my specialty, I warned, and she finally laughed a little. After feeding AJ, Katie offered to give him a bath, and I ordered pizza. The situation felt so domestic, and my gut twisted with the comfort of things. This is the way it should have been with Alicia, and yet hearing Katie’s sweet laughter while she washed AJ hinted that Alicia would never mean what Katie was becoming to me. I wanted to please her. I wanted her to believe in me. I just didn’t want her to glorify me into some hero status I couldn’t fulfill.
With AJ wrapped in a teddy-bear-eared towel, Katie pressed kisses to his cheek as she entered the living room. I took AJ from her, ready with a bottle for his sleep. Returning to the living room, I found Katie staring at something.
“You’re the guest speaker?” she questioned, holding up the cardstock invitation to the donor fundraiser. Her eyebrow rose in surprise, considering it an honor.
“I didn’t want to do it, but Wayne wants me to talk about my experience.” Instantly, I saw the wheels spinning in Katie’s eyes.
“Your experience?” she inquired, slowly emphasizing the syllables of each word.
“He wants me to talk about the military, what it taught me, and then my college success. His words, not mine. He claims I’m an example of perseverance.”
“So you have to speak in front of a hundred or so strangers about your military life, but you can’t talk to me?” The hurt in her tone pinched at my chest. It wasn’t what she thought. What I’d say would be surface information. I’d speak of honor and loyalty, how proud I was of my men, and what being a part of the unit taught me. My speech would not delve into the deep horrors of what I’d seen.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s for show. Parade the crippled guy in front of donors and prey on their sympathies.”
Her mouth opened in shock, a crooked O forming on her sweet lips. “How could you say that? That isn’t true, and I don’t believe Wayne would ever do that to you.”
I sighed, wiping a hand over my face in frustration. “How did we get back to this?”
“Because you’re being hailed as a hero, and you want to act like it’s nothing.”
“It is nothing. I’m not a hero, Katie. Stop calling me that.”
“Then tell me why you aren’t.” Her voice had risen and her cheeks pinked. I’d never seen her so worked up, and the racing of my heart matched the frustration in her expression. I reached for her hand and tugged her off the couch, leaving the pizza to grow cold on the table. Leading her to my bedroom, I stopped her at the end of the bed.
“Take off your shirt.”
“What?” she gasped again, her mouth hanging wide open.
“I’m not telling you anything unless you take off your shirt.” My eyes narrowed, daring her to contradict me, knowing if she didn’t follow my command, I wouldn’t speak. I almost thought I’d like her to keep her clothes on. Surprising me, she tugged her sweater over her hair, the static crackle the only sound other than the heaving of our breaths.
“Lay on my bed, up by the pillows.” Her eyes weighed heavily on me, but she didn’t speak. Climbing on my bed, I skimmed her ass with my eyes, wishing we could forget this whole game and get to other business instead. With her watching me, I pulled off my own shirt and her eyes widened. I crawled up the bed, spreading her thighs and falling between them.
“I need to feel your heart beat.” She inhaled with surprise and her arms opened, allowing me to lie against her chest. The scruff of my jaw rough against her tender skin, I didn’t care. I needed the sound of those beats within her to steady me as I told my tale.
“It was hot as hell and we weren’t supposed to be there…
“I’d followed General Rikkers orders to a T. Get to the church, secure the perimeter, wait for the retreat. Our enemy was near, so near I could almost hear them breathing. But we didn’t expect what we’d found. The church wasn’t empty. It must have been converted to an orphanage or something because what we found were kids. Tons of kids and a few older women cowering, trying to keep them silent. The instant we entered, all hell broke loose. The kids wailed, and the women cursed us in a language we couldn’t follow. Slowly they separated, to reveal one child wrapped in explosives.”
The gasp of her breath and the increase to her heart rate told me I’d said enough. Her hands, which previously lay loosely at my shoulder blades, tightened around me. I’d been holding myself rigid, trying not to put all my weight on her, but I gave in. I collapsed on top of her, letting her surround me, and continued.
“The kids were crying and crying and crying. We didn’t know what to do at first. We needed to get them out of there. We knew the place wasn’t secure enough. Our only thought was to remove the children, get them out and down the alley as fast as we could. Murphy went to work on the kid with the bomb and Williams, Mont and I began shuffling kids out a back passage. The women still screamed at us, and Williams was losing his shit, trying to get them to be quiet. It was a total clusterfuck. We all knew the sound could alert those closest to our presence. I’d made it no more than ten feet when the church exploded.”
Katie’s arms
tightened around me. She slid her body, trying to get under me, wrapping her ankles around my thighs as if she could draw me into her. My own arms gripped her back, afraid to let go. I’d never told a civilian this story. The military psychiatrist knew, and my physical therapist had hints as well as anyone who read my file. I’d given my statement too many times to count. Wayne didn’t need to know the truth, as a veteran of war himself, he had an inkling of what I’d seen.
“I couldn’t get them out,” my voice lowered. “The kids. My men. My friends.” I took a deep breath. “Something sliced my leg, the force enough to break it. I didn’t know this as I’d lost consciousness at first. The noise, the sound, I couldn’t think, and then when I woke, all I saw was the bone and the blood.” My voice hitched and Katie shushed me, her nails lightly scratching over my exposed back.
“You don’t have to tell me more.” Her voice was so weak, frail, like those children. My heart broke all over again for what I’d seen and been unable to do.
“I couldn’t save them.” My voice cracked. “I didn’t save them.” My breath hitched.
“It’s okay,” Katie whispered. “It’s okay.”
“But it’s not,” I said, burying my face into her chest. “It’s not okay. They all died, except for me. All of them. Do you know what it’s like to be the only one alive? The only one to live. I should have died with them, Katie. It shouldn’t have been me. Williams had a family. Murphy was engaged. Mont was practically a kid himself. Rikkers could have retired when the tour was over. I…I was no one. I had nothing.”
“Don’t say that,” she hushed. “Don’t say that.” She tugged me closer to her, and I clamped onto her tiny body. I couldn’t get her close enough to me, my body needing her warmth and yet shivering with cold.
“I’m not a hero, Katie. I need you to see that. Not me. The heroes died.” It was the final crack. An uncontrolled sob escaped, and I tried to cover my face completely with her flesh. Her hands gripped either side of my head, but I wouldn’t let her lift it. Tears I hadn’t shed in years traveled over her skin and her hands give in, wrapping around my skull, rubbing into my hair to soothe me.
I’m not certain how much time passed but eventually, the salty flow stopped. I wiped my cheeks over her chest, kissed above her breast and pulled back.
“I need a drink.” My voice was hoarse from silent tears and hard words.
“No, you don’t,” she replied sternly.
“Yes, I do.” I pulled back from her, kneeling on my heels between her thighs when her hand caught the waist of my jeans.
“No. You don’t.” Her tone softened, and she tugged at the waistband, sensing it was what I needed instead, and God help me, those wide blue eyes begged me to take her offer. She’d give me something else if I didn’t go for that drink.
“Katie,” I sighed, wiping a hand down my still damp face. “I can’t do this with you.” Her hand released my jeans instantly, but I was quicker. I caught her wrist and forced her hand to cover the zipper of my jeans. Drawing her palm over the length of me, a part that rapidly disagreed with my words, I forced her to touch me.
“Not like this, Katie. Not because you feel sorry for me.” My motions contradicted my statement. I continued to force her, leading her to stroke me, although the tendons of her fingers proved she had taken control. I remained kneeling, and she sat forward. Her fingers unbuttoned my jeans and I rose up to loosen the tight hold. Slipping her hands to my waist, she guided me to twist and lay back on the bed. Pushing my jeans to my thighs, she continued to stroke me over my boxers.
“We don’t have to do everything,” she whispered, her voice shaky despite the bold offer. Her palm continued to rub over soft cotton as I closed my eyes. She slipped over the waistband, circling the length of me, and I nearly jumped off the bed. Her palm was warm, her touch tender, almost too gentle. In many ways, I wanted it hard and fast, as a means to forget, but while my heart raced, I drew a deep breath and let her take control of me. She gently tugged, elongating the shaft before reaching lower and cupping my sensitive sac. I moaned her name, letting her slow exploration sooth me. Tension built in my toes. My hand came to the back of her head. Sensing what I wanted, she lowered and her mouth took me hesitantly. A kiss. A lick. A circling of the head before lips clamped over me, drawing me deep into her wet warmth. Fists clenched my sheets as she took her time to discover me with her mouth. I didn’t interrupt her clumsy climb. I didn’t stop her shallow sucking. I sank into the prickling sensation as the pressure built inch by tantalizing inch. And then she took me deep, and I hit the back of her throat. Unable to control myself, I held her head, dragging to her lips and pushing forward again. She whimpered, and I wished to stop but my hips bucked at the sound vibrating over hard, slick skin. I pulled back, but her mouth followed and her cheeks caved. The pressure undid me, and I came without warning.
“Katie,” I groaned, ready to apologize yet not wanting to seek forgiveness. What she’d done surprised me, and I didn’t want to give it back. I wanted to take and keep it for me. My eyes opened slowly as if from a drug-enhanced daze, and I found her wiping at her mouth. Fingers stroked back over her lips, fighting to hold in a smile.
Something about the spark in her eye prompted me to ask: “You’ve never done that before have you?” and she shook her head, biting the corner of her lip. I sat up so quickly, she fell back on her haunches.
“I was your first?” An octave cracked in my question.
“You always were,” she smiled slowly, and I instantly knew what she meant. I’d been her first kiss, all those years ago, and it made me wonder if I’d be her first for other things. That night definitely wasn’t the night for such a thing, if that were the case.
“Are you a virgin?” The question jumped out, and the subtle shake of her lowered head pinched at my heart. I’d embarrassed her, but damn it, I hated whoever had stolen that first from me.
“Stay with me, tonight. Just sleep.” My hands rubbed up and her down her chilled arms, and the smile she fought broke free.
Katie
He’d asked me to stay, and my heart nearly burst from my chest. I tried to appear calm, but I trembled with excitement. Despite his rejection, I knew I’d done something to clear his mind, if only briefly. I sat back, allowing him space to roll off the bed and right his jeans.
“I’m going to shower,” he said, and I nodded, lacking all words. He reached into a dresser and pulled out a T-shirt, tossing it casually to me. “Here, you can sleep in that.”
I tried not to let confusion take me. I wanted to be skin to skin with him like we had been last week, but he was in a fragile state of mind, instantly returning to the horrors of what he shared with me as soon as my feast on him ended. I covered myself with the T-shirt and removed my jeans, curling up on the pillows at the top of the bed. My palm skimmed over the spot where he laid, imagining the horrific scene he described, but knowing the only vision I had was Hollywood-personified. There was no reality for my vision. It seemed fantastical, but not in a magical sense. Unbelievable, that someone could mastermind the use of a child as a human bomb. The depths of such evil were beyond my scope and yet Levi had faced the devil in an innocent child. No wonder he cursed the cries of his child. Only briefly did I fear for AJ. I refused to believe Levi would hurt his own son, sensing his son diversely different from some threadbare kid in a war-torn country. Still, I was haunted.
“Want a drink?” he offered, standing in the doorway to his room, dressed only in a towel. He used cuffed crutches to support himself as he stood before me without the prosthetic leg. I took a moment to admire the godlike stature of his body. While labeled disabled by this country, before me appeared the able body of a sexy man minus a leg and missing his heart. A bottle precariously dangled in one hand and a glass accompanied the other. He maneuvered himself with crutches and alcohol, and I realized he’d practiced this walk too often.
“The other day…” I hesitated
“Marked the anniversary of their death
s.” The words were blunt, casual and contrite. I stared in heartbreak as he crossed the room, pausing to take a deep swill straight from the bottle, my attempts at sexual distraction forgotten.
“I know you want to ask, so just ask.” His tone sharpened, oiled by the alcohol, I assumed, so I refused to back down.
“What happened?”
He sat on the bed, twisting his side to me. The length of his shortened right leg raised up and resting on the mattress.
“I just told you. My leg was sliced by debris, cutting the bone. I bled out from a vein down my leg, and the only way to save me was to remove it.” He rotated the leg, left to right. It changed nothing in my mind about him. I held my breath, feeling like he was sharing something important. Exposing himself in a way he hadn’t done with others before me, which was silly considering he’d been with a woman who gave him a child. He let me stare at his severed leg.
“You can touch it,” he offered without looking at me. I scooted closer to him and my fingers shook. I didn’t want to appear afraid. I wasn’t frightened. I was nervous. I didn’t want to offend him. Instantly, I changed tactics. My hand came to rest on his thigh instead. This wasn’t sensual, because I didn’t know how to play sex kitten, but it was intimate. My body was hyperaware of his, once again, and I stroked downward on his shower-warm skin. My fingers tightened, massaging his flesh, as they moved slowly lower. Curving over his kneecap, framing his knee with my fingers, I flattened my palm just beneath the bone. Brushing cautiously, I reached the hard hump, curling my fingers around it, touching scar tissue and tight skin. I didn’t look up at him. He was allowing me to investigate, so I inspected. The room was dark and I let my hand be my eyes, rounding the curve of his body, cupping under this portion of his leg, and caressing up under his knee. His leg flinched and my eyes jumped to his.
“That tickled.” A small smirk twisted his lips, and he reached for the bottle on the stand. Taking another swig, his eyes never left mine. My hand moved higher on the underside of his thigh.