I hear Michael just as he’s illuminated on the lawn from the porchlight.
“Hey,” I reply softly.
He walks closer to the steps and up to the porch.
“Saw your light come on-”
“Sorry, did I wake you?” I ask.
“No, no, I was up watching the baseball game,” he tells me. “You okay?”
I nod but look down at my hands.
“I didn’t know you smoked?” he says with a smile.
“I don’t,” I say with a small laugh. “You want one?” I ask, holding the cigarette out.
“No, I only smoke cigars on occasion, but thanks.”
I nod and inhale the summer air deeply.
“Mind if I sit?” he asks.
“Yeah, go ahead,” I tell him looking at the chair beside me.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks while sitting.
I hesitate before answering, it’s probably obvious I’ve been crying, and my behavior’s odd.
“Not really,” I sniffle.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Not really.”
He nods and looks out toward the front lawn.
“When you said it gets easier, that was a lie right? It never really gets easier does it? Tolerable, yes, but never easier.”
I look over at him, I know he thinks this is because of Joey, and that’s fine. I nod and take a hit off the cigarette. My eyes begin to well-up, I don’t want to cry in front of him, but I can’t help it. I cover the side of my face that he can see with one of my hands, and I sniffle.
“Hey, hey,” he says softly, rising from his chair to kneel down in front of me.
He removes the cigarette from my other hand and puts it out in the ashtray on the table beside me. He then takes my hands and I let the tears fall down my cheeks, and I’m thankful that he doesn’t try to wipe them away.
“It’s okay, let it out,” he tells me.
I close my eyes, trying to gather myself and assure him I’m fine so I can go back inside and curl up under my covers to do this. It takes me a moment to recognize that he’s cupped my cheeks, and I blink up, his face closer than before.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, licking his lips as he moves in.
I freeze as he presses his lips to mine, and my brain and heart fight to come to recognition. The kiss feels good but wrong. Still, my eyes close for a moment, taking in the comfort before my reflexes kick in.
“Michael,” I state and pull back.
He blinks and then looks confused. His brows furrow in confusion, as do mine.
“I love my husband,” I tell him, my hands pressing on his chest for him to move away from me.
“Katie, you’re so fucking beautiful, I need you,” he says.
Beautiful. Guilt rips through me, grips my heart and all I can do is picture Joey’s voice calling me that.
“No, you need your wife…I’m sorry, I need to go back in,” I sniffle and stand as he does.
“Katie, Katie, I’m sorry.”
I close the front door behind me and turn off the light. As if I hadn’t felt like shit already, I feel disgusting and pathetic now. My mind wanders, looking back at what would have ever given Michael the idea that what just happened was something I wanted. With a heavy heart for so many reasons, I go upstairs and curl under the covers, crying into Joey’s pillow.
Chapter 18
I love going home, but it always takes some time to adjust to getting back to the desert. Sometimes I wish I didn’t get the time off, that I could just do my time all at once and then go home when it’s all done. But here I am, on another deployment. Another nine months. The girls are getting so big, and I plan on this being my last time away from them. My enlistment will be up when this is over, and although I love what I do, I can’t and don’t want to be away from my family anymore.
This war has jaded me as to why I wanted to be in the military to begin with. I’ve heard from the older soldiers; this war is like nothing they’ve experienced. The casualties, even the combat is different. It’s discouraging to take over a village, get rid of the bad guys, try to make it thrive again, just to have the people there hate us and try to kill us all while we try to keep them safe.
The only upside to this tour, is my old friend Grant from Bannister, who I was in the junior ROTC with, is part of the Rangers group Delta is working with. It was crazy to see him, like a lifetime ago since we met. That time in my life does feel like another me.
I think a lot about when Katie and I met, how I know she was destined to come into my life. She’s strong and I can’t imagine how hard it is for her to be a single mom. She never makes me feel bad for being gone and does her best to not let on how stressed I’m sure she is.
I want another baby with her, as many as we can. Seeing her pregnant does something to me, creating a new life with someone I share my heart with, it’s indescribable. I think about how we were when we met. Young, her life full of baggage, sadness, pain. I never want her life with me to be that way for her. Even though I can’t physically be with her, I know she’s happy.
It always amazes me that what she endured for seventeen years of her life, never jaded her. She still loves and trusts, still wide-eyed and curious. But she’s morphed into a woman I still can’t believe is with me. I like to think that her parents never bothering her again has something to do with that. That’s a memory I’d like to forget. But it adds to the list of things I’ve done but don’t regret. I know that things I’ve done in my life, the questionable things, even during this war, have been for a greater reason than myself. To protect the ones I love, to keep them safe and free from fear. I wouldn’t change shit.
We’ve geared up to go to a village, there’s reports of some bad guys coming in and taking food and trying to get money from business owners. We have orders to check out what’s going on. We stand around all geared up waiting. Grant and I smoke a cigarette as we stand by the tanks, the wind blowing the hot as fuck air around us, but it’s anything but refreshing.
“You been home lately?” I ask him.
“Yeah, six months ago…got married,” he beams proudly.
“No shit! That’s awesome man, congrats,” I tell him.
“Thanks, yeah it’s been hard though, leaving right after…but I’m sure it’s not easy leaving anytime right?” he asks.
“It fucking blows, but, whatever.” I shrug.
“You have at least one kid, I remember your wife was pregnant when you were at boot.”
“We have three girls now,” I smile.
“What! Damn, time goes by so fuckin’ quick,” he says looking down.
“You guys want kids?”
“Fuck yeah, we’re gonna start trying next time I’m home,” he gives me a wiggle of his eyebrows over his wrap-around sunglasses.
“Delta.” I hear the platoon sergeant announce and I snuff out my smoke, and then hear the call for Rangers a minute later.
“You riding with me?” Grant asks.
“No, got my gear in the hum-v already,” I tell him.
“Later,” he says with a small wave before we turn away and walk in opposite directions.
Talking with Grant only makes me miss my family more, he reminds me of home, something I manage to distance myself from as much as possible while here, until now. We begin riding in tanks and hum-v’s en-route to our destination. Whenever I have silent moments, I picture Katie. For some reason it’s like were in a park or something, she’s smiling and kissing me. Sitting there in the truck, I close my eyes and always count her freckles, eleven…eleven.
There's ringing, in my ears, so loud that it hurts my brain. I open my eyes and all I see is dust. Brown dust, sand, and it’s everywhere my eyes dart to. I’m outside, not in the hum-v. I wait for pain, a sign of injury, but it doesn't come. Through the ear-piercing ring, I hear screams. Guttural, un-human shrills. The high pitched whistle fades as the screams grow louder.
“Joey.”
The voice has m
e blinking, it repeats my name, and its Katie.
“Joey, get up…Joey.”
“You all right man?” A voice I recognize as Forester says just before he appears through the dust and puts both his hands on my chest.
I think I'm all right, but I don't reply. Then he's yanking me up by my gear and to my feet. The hum-v ahead of us is turned over along with the one I was in, the truck ahead is still on its wheels but blown to smithereens, smoking and fire billowing from it. Then I see the bodies, and realize that's where the screams are coming from. I have to find Grant.
I stumble a few feet, some men from my hum-v and the ones behind us come streaming from all over towards the chaos. My feet kick into something and I look down. Halted by the bottom half of a fatigued torso. My brain is computing it all, but the shock of the blast has me feeling drunk almost. I have to find Grant. There’s no way to save the soldier at my feet, so I step over him and toward the others. My eyes search for my friend, men lying on the sand, dead. Others screaming already have men helping them, but none of them are Grant.
“Joey,” I hear Katie again, this time over to my right, and I look over towards her voice, and there he is.
I run towards him. “Medic!” I scream as I kneel down beside him. He’s lost both his legs, and I take his helmet off. Blood is pouring from his nose and mouth, even his eyes are rimmed with blood.
It’s then I realize soldiers are returning gun fire around us, bullets hitting the sand with puffs of smoke pluming from the earth with the impact. Pings and whistles hit metal and fly past my ears, but still, I crouch over my friend.
“Joey-” he coughs out with a spurt of blood.
“It’s okay man, you’re okay,” I tell him, taking his hand and looking over my shoulder as I shout for a medic again.
“Joey,” he repeats.
I feel the impact of a bullet hit my shoulder, but adrenaline has me barely feeling it. No medic will come out here during enemy fire, so I put my hands under Grants armpits and pull him towards the cover of one of the tanks still standing. An RPG explodes mere feet from where we’d just been, as I sit with my back against the tank and Grant’s head on my lap. I look down as my chest heaves, my heart racing.
“Tell my wife…I love her,” he tells me before his eyes roll back.
“Medic!”
Chapter 19
Joey called me one night, actually morning, at four a.m. to tell me he was coming home. I didn’t find out until he was in a layover in Britain, that Grant died, and the day he returned we needed to go to the funeral. I hadn’t known Grant well, but I cried. I felt sad knowing someone my husband cared for was dead. I know he lost men there, but no one was from home. I didn’t know the details, if Joey was there when it happened, but I got the sense he was effected by this.
Joey also told me that he was heading home because he’d been wounded, shrapnel in his arm. I was a whirlwind of emotions, too many to categorize or process in the moment. All I knew is my husband was coming home. We all flew to Plantain; Joey would be meeting us there since Grants funeral would be in his hometown of Coral Groves.
Wearing a black dress and heels, a black town car came to pick me up as I headed to the airport alone. Since this was a military death, I was allowed to go onto the tarmac. There were armed service members there to remove the coffin and carry it to the hearse which I watched alongside mourners I assumed were Grant’s friends and family.
It was impossible not to tear up as the American flag-covered coffin made its way down the open back of the military plane. The sounds of his family sobbing as we watched, broke my heart. This could’ve been me, this could be me and our family watching Joey’s coffin and I thank God that this isn’t the situation.
Moments after the coffin is loaded into transport, I saw Joey heading toward me in his military gear. His left arm’s in a sling, and his eyes look weary, shadowed and almost vacant. My chin quivers as he approaches me, and when he hugs me, the immense relief coupled with the sadness takes over. But he hugs me briefly, and when I look up at him, his eyes are zeroed in on the hearse. I pat his chest and wipe my eyes beneath my sunglasses.
“They had a car come to pick me up, it’s over there,” I tell him.
He nods and I take his hand in both of mine as we begin to walk. He slings his bag over his shoulder and says nothing. I know this is hard for him, shit it’s hard for me and I didn’t even know the guy. We actually don’t talk the entire ride to the cemetery, which I understand, but it creates a weird tension I’ve never felt with Joey before. I fight the urge to tell him how the girls are, or that I’ve booked our flight home for four days from now. It would make me feel better to talk, but I know this is about what’s best for him.
When we pull up along a hill, getting out and joining the other mourners as we walk up the hill towards the plot. People I assume are Grant’s parents’ and a woman that must be his wife, sit in front of the casket atop the mechanism that will lower it down to the already dug grave. The entire funeral I stare at his wife, she has sunglasses on, but I see tears trickling down her cheeks as she wipes her face with a tissue.
There’s no amount of preparation you can have to bury a loved one. I’ve never experienced it before, but I know how wrecked I would be if this were Joey. The not saying goodbye, imagining the last time they talked and not knowing that was it. I wonder if they have kids, how she told them he wasn’t coming back.
The thoughts make my stomach churn, and I hold onto Joey’s good arm tightly. I glance over at him, his eyes still locked on the casket, and I feel helpless. As uniformed officers fold the American flag over the casket, the twelve-gun salute begins, and when they fire, Joey startles. I want to comfort him, to kiss him or something as we ride back to his parents’ house, but again we sit silently.
When we arrive, Gwen hugs him but he barely returns the sentiment. Natasha and Lily are elated he’s home, but I talked to them earlier in the day, telling them that Daddy would be tired from traveling, and is sad from losing his friend and not to feel bad if he wasn’t affectionate with them when we got back.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he tells me.
“Okay babe,” I nod. “Do you need me to do anything?” I ask, not sure if he needs help with having an injured arm.
“No, I got it,” he shrugs me off.
“I’m happy you’re home,” I breathe out.
“Me too, beautiful,” he says, looking at me with those weary eyes, then leans in and kisses my forehead.
I close my eyes and revel in the affection. Giving him a few minutes to get whatever he needs from the bag I packed for him that’s in his old bedroom, I walk upstairs once I hear the shower start. Goldie’s napping in the spare bedroom, and I check on her. Her sweet little toddler body is sprawled on the mattress like a starfish, and I lean down to run my hand over her blond hair and kiss her cheek.
Gwen and I make lunch and we sit around the kitchen table, eating as I wait for Joey. But a half hour after the shower turned off, and he still didn’t come down, I take a plate with a sandwich on it up to him. When I see his old bedroom door open, and the bathroom door open, and I wonder for a minute where he went. But then I see the door to the spare bedroom open and walk quietly towards it.
Joey’s lying in bed with Goldie, tucked safely under his arm as they sleep. I inhale deeply, and feel the backs of my eyes burn. I know him being back will be an adjustment, I just don’t know how long it will take for him to really come back to us.
Chapter 20
The rest of the trip to Plantain, Joey’s like a zombie. Staring off into the distance, and I think I see him smile maybe once. Even when Dornan and Maven come to visit him, he’s barely a part of the conversation. I ask Dornan to take him to the clubhouse, maybe being away from us might help him. But Dornan texts me a few hours later saying that Joey is the same there, uninterested and antsy.
When we set off to leave for North Carolina, I can see everyone’s worried about not only his behavior but how
the girls are being affected by it. Gwen tells me she plans to come in a week or so to check on him, and help me if he’s still depressed. I think that’s what it is, but I have no idea.
When we lay in bed together, he lays on his back, away from me. He’s awake when I fall asleep most nights, and I often wake up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. I don’t know what he does all night, but he ends up sleeping most of the day. Part of me wonders if it’s to avoid us. When the girls start talking loudly, or arguing, or there’s a lot of commotion, Joey distances himself physically. A few weeks into this and I’m sick of making excuses to the girls about why their dad is acting this way because I don’t really know either.
Several times a day I hear him talking to someone on his cellphone, and whenever it rings he goes somewhere to close the door, or outside. I hope it’s someone he’s talking to about what he’s feeling since he doesn’t seem to want to talk to me about it.
Anytime I attempt to get close to him, or to offer that I’m here for him if he needs anything, he pulls away and disappears somewhere in the house. I’d taken his wedding band off my chain, and set it on our bathroom counter, and there it remains. There’s a pang of pain and sadness that comes over me every morning when I see it still sitting there.
Natasha and Lily have a ballet recital that they can’t wait to show Joey what they’ve learned, and have practiced for months now. Joey doesn’t even pretend to be enthused about going, and when we get there, he immediately takes a seat while I mingle with the other parents.
When we take our seats, I put Goldie on his lap and think for a moment he’s going to hand her back to me, but thankfully he doesn’t. The show starts and when the girls come out for their part I beam at them and give a little wave so they know where we are. They can’t take their eyes off Joey, and at one point I glance over at him and he’s openly crying.
Tears pooling in his eyes and falling down his cheeks, my face falls and I almost panic, I have no idea why he’s crying or what to do for him. Abruptly, he hands Goldie over to me as he stands and leaves. The girls see this, see him leaving and it’s all over their faces that they’re crushed.
Take On Me: Plantain Series Book Three Page 19