by Karina Sharp
She looks up at me with concern, still poking at her food with her fingers. “How’s that?”
“My father refused to pay for school if I didn’t apply for a commission.”
“Oh.” There’s sympathy in her voice, and her eyes focus back on her food.
I ask and answer the question that I know typically follows that statement.
“Could I have just taken on the mounds of student loan debt like every other college student? Yes. But this went much deeper than that for me. I didn’t want to be a disappointment.”
Arielle looks into my eyes with genuine affection. “That’s understandable.”
I believe she speaks the truth and somehow is empathic. I want to share more of my story with her, so I keep talking.
“I applied for commission as a JAG officer, went to officer training, went to the military JAG training to learn military law, and have focused on nothing but my career ever since.”
I see Arielle take in heaviness in which this short story is weighted. I know she has more questions, but instead of prying further, she explains, “I love to hear how people got to where they are today. I truly believe that everyone has a story, and I would listen to every single one, if I could.”
“That would get old really fast.”
I mean that in all sincerity. To me, that would be torture.
Arielle’s face lights up and there is sincerity, along with kindness, in her voice.
“Never. Hearing what drives people, what makes them tick, and what they live for never gets old for me. I make friends with everyone and love all people. In fact, I always gain something from conversing with someone, so talking to others always puts things into perspective for me.”
The way she describes her view of the world makes me want to see life through her eyes.
“I think that’s a wonderful way to look at life.”
“It’s worked for me thus far. For the most part…” Arielle’s face falls, and she looks unsure.
I’m beginning to see a pattern with her. She lights up, begins to feel comfortable, realizes it, then closes herself off and disconnects from the world. I immediately want to find a way to bring back her confidence and optimism.
Before I can attempt it, she says, “I’m sure your lunch hour is almost up, but before we wrap up this conversation, tell me something that is unexpected about you, or that others may not know.”
I ponder her question with grave sincerity. I’m normally not thrilled with the idea of sharing anything intimate with anyone, but for some reason, not only am I fine with sharing my feelings with Arielle, but I want to share them with her.
I take in a deep cleansing breath.
“I haven’t played or picked up an instrument since my mother’s funeral.”
Arielle’s green eyes widen and glisten. Her cheeks lift and her mouth turns into a gracious smile.
I know if I look into her eyes long enough, I will find my very soul.
“Thank you for that. I am sure it isn’t easy opening up about something so personal and painful.”
I continue to speak honestly. “It’s not, but for some reason, with you it comes a lot easier.”
Turning my smile into a smirk, I say, “That being said, turnabout is fair play. What about you? What’s your story?”
She shuts me out again. “I don’t think we have time for that right now, but I promise to share it with you one day.”
I am disappointed by her not sharing more as I want to know every mundane thing about her, but I acquiesce because she is right; I do need to go back to work. I am glad she said that she will share more with me one day, because that means she has intentions of seeing me again, even if it’s just on a professional level.
We pick up our trash, clear our places in the booth, and walk outside.
Putting my cover back on, Arielle looks as though she is suddenly reminded of something.
“Oh! I almost forgot!”
She reaches into her purse, pulls out a business card, and places in my hand.
I look down at the card and it reads:
Arielle A. Abbott-Schroerlucke, CPT NASM
Certified Navy Fitness Specialist
I read it aloud, and Arielle cracks up laughing. “I told you my business card rivals yours!”
I rub my thumb across the embossed letters and take all of her in: her name on the card, her physical beauty, her inviting smell, and her very being.
“Yup, it certainly does.”
“Here’s something most people don’t know about me. I never legally changed my name. That’s why it’s hyphenated here. I mean, that name is TERRIBLE. Sh-roar-lucky... Plus, I wanted to keep the alliteration in my name.”
I love hearing that she kept her maiden name. To me, it fits her better and makes her more unique. “I like alliteration. It suits you well.”
After indicating with her head that she needs to walk the opposite direction to her car, she casts her eyes down to the ground and then back up to meet mine.
“Thank you so much for lunch. I really enjoy your company.”
Fighting the urge to pull her to me and give her a huge farewell hug, I nod and simply say, “I enjoy yours even more. Let’s do it again soon.”
She turns on her heel and walks gracefully to her car, when an entertaining thought crosses my mind. I pull out my cell phone and type the words:
Are you a Burger King? Because with you, I would like to have it my way.
I can see her body moving up and down in laughter from across the parking lot, and I know that just in witnessing her experience pure joy in that short moment, I am whole.
Chapter 12
McCrary
I’ve been in the gym every day, which is a change in routine for me. I used to run in the early afternoons and lift in the gym a few times a week, but ever since I discovered Arielle works in the gym, I can’t imagine not having our ten to fifteen minutes of conversation and interaction each day. I learn more about her and, in turn, myself each day. I am beginning to see life beyond case law, promotions, and politics. Instead, I can see a future that extends beyond my military career. The problem is, when I picture my future, I also envision Arielle in it.
Our typical early afternoon meeting time comes, and I don’t see Arielle, which is unusual, but she could have taken the day off. I see Macy’s blond hair weave in and out of the gym equipment, and I hear her laugh over the clinking of weights and grunts of lifters.
Macy walks by me, so I call to her to catch her attention.
“Hey Mace!”
She looks over her shoulder gracefully and smiles. “Hey you! How are you?”
I know she is aware of my intentions of talking to her.
“I’m fine. Where’s your partner in crime, today?”
Macy quickly darts her eyes toward the office and immediately looks visibly shaken. “She’s uh...not feeling all that great today. So, she’s hanging in the office until it’s time to go home.”
I smile kindly, but I can read her body language. I know something is wrong, and I want to know what it is, even if it’s not really my place to intervene.
“Maybe I should just stop by and see how she’s doing.”
Macy moves toward me with unease and pleads with her eyes, in contrast to her words.
“I don’t think that’s such a great idea. She really isn’t feeling so hot; I covered our classes this morning”
“Is she sick? Why is she even here, if she’s not feeling well?”
I look to her, no longer showing any amusement, and stare icily at Macy.
“What’s going on, Macy?”
Macy looks to the floor defeated and concerned.
“I think you should take that up with her.”
A number of scenarios runs through my head. I worry that Arielle doesn’t want to see me anymore or that she has decided she doesn’t share the same connection with me. Perhaps it’s even worse- that she has decided to stay with her husband. I’ve had my doubts all along
as to whether or not I should even be pursuing a friendship with her. I would never be able to forgive myself if I added to her emotional turmoil, but I press forward due to my intuition, or maybe out of stubbornness. Of all the thoughts, feelings, and worries swirling through my head as I walk to the office to speak to Arielle, I could not have predicted what was about to happen when I walked through those glass double doors.
I step into the office and immediately feel Arielle’s presence, but right now it’s shrouded in uncertainty and anguish. My eyes scan the room until I see Arielle seated at a desk with her head resting on her arms and her eyes closed. As I take in the face that I’ve grown to love and know so well, I see deep purple on the bridge of her nose. My blood boils at the sight of her face wounded in any way, but this is the face of what I want to be my future. I have to bury my contempt for now, because despite the wound on it, I am looking at my priority.
“Arielle,” I say as calmly and lovingly as possible.
She opens her eyes and looks at me. Instead of being filled with warmth and love like I am accustomed to seeing, her eyes are cloudy, distant, and full of sorrow. She sits up at the desk and her bottom lip quivers, but she says nothing.
“What happened?”
Arielle closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Nothing.”
Angry and hurt by her dismissiveness, I try to keep my voice at a controlled level. I’m not angry with her; I simply need to know all of the details of how she was injured.
“Arielle, please. Just tell me what happened.”
Tears roll down her cheeks, and I immediately feel terrible. I feel guilty, like I should have been there and somehow have protected her, but I also feel full of love and wonder at the site of her baring her raw emotions to me. Arielle looks up at me, and even through her watery eyes, I see all of my world encapsulated in those very green irises.
“I can’t,” she replies. “It’s too embarrassing.”
I walk next to her and squat down so that my face is level with hers. I look at her and try to convey my sincerity and understanding with my eyes.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m worried about you and just want to know what happened.”
I don’t know if I truly want to hear the entire truth, but I am determined to listen to every detail she’s willing to share. I know what she's about to tell me is going to make me want to find her husband and bash his face in, but I also know that until I can get her away from him, my priority has to be looking out for her safety.
“Brody had to wake up early for work since they were due to go underway today. I generally wake him up every morning. I’ve learned from past experience that I have to wake him up early and several times throughout the morning, otherwise he will sleep and sleep. Per usual, he came home late last night. He began packing his things in the middle of the night, not taking into consideration that I have to not only get him up for work, but get myself up as well.
“I got angry with him and actually stood up to him. Honestly, I was impressed with myself. At first... I told him he was being inconsiderate and that he should have gotten his things together prior to the night before he was due to leave. My sudden brashness did not go over well with him. He said I was bitching at him, like always, and he told me to shut up. But, I didn’t want to shut up.
“I continued to speak my mind, until he pulled me out of the bed by my hair and pushed me to the ground. He shoved the alarm clock into my face and demanded I tell him what time it was. Feeling degraded, I wasn’t going to give in so easily. I ignored his order to tell him what time it was. He hit me in the face with the clock repeatedly, demanding I tell him ‘what the fuck time it is.’
“He literally beat the resolve out of me, and I relented. It was 3:43am.”
Grief, anguish, and guilt grow stronger than my anger. In that moment, I could easily kill him for torturing and degrading Arielle, but she isn’t looking for revenge, nor will it be beneficial. I turn to her and place my forehead against hers.
“I’m so sorry,” I say as I wipe her tears with my thumbs. “I’m so sorry that you had to go through that. I wish I could have done something to help you.”
Arielle looks down as she brushes the back of her knuckles against mine.
“There’s nothing you could have done, McCrary. There’s no way you could have known.”
I lean back to look into her face and pain-filled eyes. My heart is ripped out of my chest as I watch tears silently pour from her eyes, past her bruised nose, and down her cheeks.
“I know that, but I vowed to myself that I would do everything I could to help you and keep you from getting hurt any further, and I failed.”
Arielle closes her eyes and bites her shaking lip.
“Why didn’t you take the day off? Or call for help?”
She lays her head back down on her forearms and speaks, not looking at me. “It’s complicated. I’m expected to come to work every day, plus I really needed to get away from there for the day. I didn’t call for help because, frankly, I don’t need help. I’m a big girl who made big girl decisions- choices that royally screwed up my life -but I am reaping the consequences of every single one. I just have to deal with them since I’m responsible for putting myself in this situation in the first place.”
“That’s ludicrous, Arielle. Everyone makes mistakes, and everyone makes decisions based on the information they have at the time. You thought you had no other options to make a life for yourself, so you married someone, knowing deep down inside that he could never truly make you happy. You don’t have to be a martyr; you can pick yourself back up and move on. You have so many people who are more than willing to help you in the process. Everyone needs help at some point.”
“I’ve pushed so many people away over the years, I doubt any of them care to hear from me, much less about my problems. I’m not the girl who has problems, you know? I’m the person who helps everyone else through theirs and isn’t a burden on others.”
“Look at me.”
Arielle turns her head toward me and opens her watery eyes. I search her them and see that they are empty. I want to kiss her desperately and wash away all of her pain and tears with them. I cannot resist her, nor can I resist the urge to comfort her and have some sort of physical contact.
I give her a sweet, slow kiss on her forehead. The instant my lips make contact with her skin, I feel everything I’ve been missing in my life. I feel our connection strengthen, and it’s all I can focus on. I know that everything I’m doing is wrong and terrible for my professional career, but in this moment, I don’t give a damn about my career. I would throw it all away in an instant, just to hear her tell me that she wants to be with me.
Arielle sits up with her lips parted, staring at me with wide eyes. She seems stunned.
I can predict what’s going on in her head.
“I...I can’t do this. I’m so sorry, McCrary. It’s just not right. I’m married, and I’m so confused. I’m so sorry.”
She stands up and stumbles away, confusion filling her face. I feel helpless as I watch her walk away from me and out of the office doors.
Standing in the office, now alone, I contemplate what to do next. I wonder if I am pushing her too hard. She’s very vulnerable, and I don’t want to take advantage of her in any way. I can’t imagine how difficult her life must be right now, and I am selfishly adding to her confusion. She is easily the most pure and delightful person I’ve ever known, her raw beauty is unmatched, and I full of life when I am around her. With her being such a wonderful person, I question if I can truly enhance her life and give her everything she needs and desires.
I resign myself to keeping my distance as it’s clear to me that she needs a friend and not someone who tries to kiss her when she is at her weakest.
Chapter 13
Arielle
The weather is particularly beautiful this Saturday afternoon, with the trade winds in full force and not a cloud in the sky. I've been dying to visit Ford Island because I’ve b
een told that many of the original plane hangars that survived the attack on Pearl Harbor remain there with bullet holes still in them. I've also been drawn to the red and white striped tower featured in the movie Pearl Harbor that stands higher than the other structures on the island.
With my head still clouded with confusion and guilt from the unexpected, sweet, but very emotional, kiss with McCrary the other day. I’ve been avoiding him ever since, but according to Macy’s daily reports, my efforts have not been necessary since apparently he’s been avoiding me and not coming to the gym.
I decide to combine my historical tour with an overdue, long, and cathartic jog. Ford Island is a very small piece of land that has a perimeter of under 6 miles. As I jog around the land, I think of what it must have been like to have been here those many years ago and witness such a heinous act of war.
Lost in my thoughts, I approach the side of the island that is closest to the USS Arizona memorial. I marvel at the simple beauty derived from a highly complex design. I pause for a moment to take in not only the site of the stark, white monument against the blue water, but also in remembrance for all of those involved and affected by such tragedy.
Watching the serene water ripple against the shore, I think I hear someone call my name. The island seems to be fairly calm and unoccupied, outside of a few housing complexes.
"Arielle, is that you?"
This time, I am positive of the sound I hear as it is louder and closer. I look over my shoulder and see the shirtless, sweaty, and tan specimen that is McCrary Ashby. Moving toward me, I see sweat beading down his acutely formed pecs to his ripped stomach, which causes my breath to hitch a little. His skin literally shines in the tropical sun- not in the silly teenage vampire way -but in a sexy, hard-working, and fit adult way, which not only turns me on but makes my heart literally skip beats.