by Suzy Parish
Sophie sprang up in bed and flipped on the bedside lamp.
“Mac?”
I sat stiffly in bed beside her, not focused on anything in particular.
Sophie touched my shoulder. “You were having a nightmare.” She drew her hand back and wiped her palms together. “You’re soaking wet.”
“I’m all right,” I said. But my dreams conspired to punch a hole in the facade I’d so carefully constructed.
We’d been married seven years that June, long enough for Sophie to read every worry crease in my forehead, like someone reading tea leaves.
I stripped off my sodden clothes and jumped in the shower. I held my face in the stream of warm water and closed my eyes. I stood there until steam enveloped my body, muffling the noise in my brain. I wanted to numb the painful memories, but they didn’t make painkillers strong enough to heal what ailed me. I was not sure how long I stood there, but eventually, I turned off the hot water and went back to bed.
Sophie wasn’t asleep as I’d hoped. She waited up for me. Why was I surprised?
“Did the shower help?”
“Yeah.” I pulled a clean T-shirt over my head, shoved my arms in the sleeves, and climbed into bed.
Just leave it alone. I’ll talk with Sophie tomorrow. Who was I kidding? I’d used that excuse for months, and I couldn’t remember one single day that I’d followed through. It was time to tell Sophie the truth. “I have something to say to you.”
Sophie rubbed my arm. “What is it?”
“It was my fault.”
Sophie frowned and pushed her hair out of her eyes.
“What was?”
“The accident,” I said.
“No, it wasn’t. The other driver was listed as at fault.”
A strangled wheezing sound clawed its way up my throat. “The other driver was at fault, but…” I breathed out, still wheezing. “My phone beeped. It was sitting on the seat. I glanced over to see who was texting, and when I looked up, the other car plowed into me.” Oh, God. The words were finally out of my mouth.
Sophie crawled around in bed to face me. “What?” Her voice squeaked, pitched like a guitar strung too tight and about to break.
“Who was texting you? It wasn’t me. You’d just left our house.” A glimmer of suspicion grew in Sophie’s eyes. “Mac! Answer me.” Sophie seemed small and brittle, more even than the day we’d buried him.
“The dispatcher.” I waited, but instead of the outburst I’d expected, she was silent. Her silence was more excruciating than any words. Only Sophie had the power to release me. She had to say it. It would be a mercy killing. This time I was the moth at the light.
“Say it. You can’t forgive me.” I begged her, yet inside I had one strand of hope. Like a three-stranded rope that’s been sawed through until there’s only one strand left. I hung by that strand, and Sophie wielded the knife. A knife I’d given her.
But she wouldn’t say it. Sophie had too much self-control. The color drained from her face, left the freckles on her nose in stark relief. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears and muffled choking sobs came from her throat.
She jumped from our bed and quickly slipped into her skirt that was thrown carelessly on the floor just a few hours before. A few hours before, I had been her lover, her provider. The one she depended on to make everything right.
She pulled her thin blouse over her head and jammed her feet into her sandals.
I stood there frozen. Just watched. Watched my world come crashing down.
She grabbed her purse.
“Where are you going?” Please, Soph, not like this.
“Away.” She moaned from between white lips. “Away from you. I can’t do this anymore.” And then the dam burst with a torrent of her words. “When Little Mac died, I tried to carry on. When you decided to go halfway across the world, I hung in there. I’m a law enforcement officer’s wife. I know how to deal with loneliness. At first, I begged you to come home, but then I realized you probably needed time to heal, so I gave you what you asked. Now I need time alone.”
“When will you be back?”
She stopped midway through putting her sweater on. “I don’t know.” She shoved her arms the rest of the way in.
I made a halfhearted attempt to touch her, but she twisted past. My hand was left hanging in the air. Her perfume drifted away from me. The door closed, and silence wove a smothering blanket. She was never coming back. I’d always remember that moment, for I knew I would not have another with her.
Glenn was right. My Achilles heel was that I hoped for second chances. I was a wandering star in a field of blackness. I had become Glenn. Back at camp, a re-enlistment packet was on my desk. I could continue as a police trainer, and Sophie would have her freedom.
All it needed was my signature.
~*~
“Sophie!”
The crowd flowed around me like a living stream. I tried to cut across the flow, but I dodged parents with cotton candy and children. The night air was damp, and the full moon crashed off the waves. I hadn’t stayed in our room long. I had to find her.
It seemed the entire city was out for a stroll, headed to the beach, for the midnight fireworks display.
I caught sight of the back of her head as she moved ahead of me through the crowd. I walked faster to catch up, called her name again, but the noise of the crowd drowned me out. “Sophie I’m here,” I called out to her. I willed her to hear me, repeated it in my head. But she couldn’t read my mind. Or could she?
Sophie turned, and a smile full of yearning filled her face.
But her smile wasn’t for me. I drew my gaze down the street, targeted the line of her vision, and my glance landed on the ghost boy once again, illuminated by a street light. Small tow-headed boy, same shirt.
I was bumped from behind, but my eyes remained fixed on Sophie, afraid panic would seize her the way it had me. But she amazed me. Instead of running away as I’d done, Sophie walked directly to the boy and started up a conversation with the father.
I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but her hand caressed the boy’s head and lingered for a moment, just a moment, across his blond curls. Then she drew back, tucked her hands behind her back, locked her thumbs as if to prevent herself from hugging him.
I made my way beside her as the man and his son walked off. When I caught up to Sophie a mixture of longing and regret clouded her face.
She jumped, startled when I came into view. A small breeze rose and turned up the ends of her hair. Her cheeks and lips were pink from the day’s sun. She glanced my way hesitantly, and I didn’t know if she would leave.
“Sophie—”
“Did you see him?” Her voice wavered, and she clasped her hands together tightly.
“I saw him.”
“He looked just like Little Mac from behind. He even had the same shirt I bought,” Sophie said.
“I know, Soph. He was in line earlier at the gelato shop with his dad.”
“Let’s go back to our room,” Sophie said.
As soon as the door to our condo was shut, she walked across the room and braced her arms against the desk. Her back was to me, and she looked spent.
“You’ve known about this for over a year, but for me, it’s as if it just happened,” Sophie said. “I was getting to the place where I could enter his room without breaking down, and now this…”
“I was wrong to withhold the truth. When I saw Travis’s marriage crumble, I was afraid ours would be next.”
“I don’t know if you’ve considered how hard this has been for me. When I heard those explosions outside your tent, I was horrified. All I could think was that our son was gone, and I was about to lose you, too. I’m too young to be a widow.”
“Please forgive me.”
“Remember what you told me when you first arrived in Afghanistan and I was begging you to come home?” she whispered. “You said, ‘We can do this. I know we can.’”
I nodded, mechanically at fir
st. Then the realization hit me. She was repeating my own words, as her way of saying she wanted to give us another chance.
A flood of forgiveness washed over me, deeper and wider than I’d ever felt before. I couldn’t comprehend that kind of mercy. It didn’t seem humanly possible.
Sophie placed her hands in mine. I rubbed her hands as if to warm her, as if to fight off the chill of death that hung over our marriage.
“Now it all makes sense. It didn’t before. Why you left the way you did, so soon after we lost him. I was hurt, angry, and alone.”
“I never wanted to hurt you. I was running from the accident and from myself. I know it sounds stupid, but the more miles I put between me and Little Mac’s grave…I thought I could outrun my guilt.”
She leaned back and made me look into her eyes. “I don’t hate you. I can’t hate you. Ever. I knew you were evading me. I wish you had trusted me enough to tell me. Promise me something. Promise you will tell the truth. Lies put distance between us, more separation than if you were still in Afghanistan.”
“I promise.” I kissed her forehead.
Sophie pulled me closer, and we melded into one person.
For the first time in a year, we were a couple again, embracing each other as if one would let go of the other, we’d lose the tiny island of peace we’d just found.
28
“I have a mission to finish if we can hang on.” I released Sophie’s hand and ran my fingers through her hair. A forced grin spread across my face. We would make it. Only this time, I was the one who needed reassuring. Returning to Afghanistan was harder than I’d expected, and it took all my will to drive toward the airport.
Our car was the only speck of color on the highway. The road was gray, the sky was gray. During the two weeks, I was home on leave, the seasons shifted into full-blown fall. Patches of rain-soaked grass in the median encircled brown puddles from last night’s thunderstorms. High winds stripped trees of any remnant of fall. The grayness matched my mood.
“Time will go slowly while you’re gone. But I’ve got to build the business, so I’ll be putting in a lot of hours. This will work, Mac.” Sophie tried to make her enthusiasm rub off on me. “When you get home for good, I should have my hours established. The time apart will give me room to get the business grounded.”
It all sounded so logical, so orderly. My mind shouted. I want to be here to watch you build your business. I want to see your dreams come true, not spend the next months imprisoned behind cement walls.
Sophie curled the tips of her fingers back into the palm of my hand and closed her eyes.
I shifted in the car seat and pulled her against me.
She rested her head against my chest, and I focused on the rhythmic beating of her pulse, her steady breaths. I memorized them so I could play them back in the emptiness of my tent at night. “I’ll miss you, Soph.”
She turned her head up and studied me. “I’ll miss you, too.” She gave my hand a squeeze. “You love teaching, don’t you?”
I tapped the steering wheel with the wedding band on my finger. Could I find the words? “I wish you could meet the students. Most of them have an insatiable desire to learn. This academy is their only opportunity. I tell them to enjoy the time in school, treat it like a small vacation. That’s something they’ll never have. We feed them well and provide beds and uniforms. Some go home at the end of the day. Some have the option to stay. The ones within traveling distance go back. But the locals usually stay anyway because we feed them. There’s also TV and showers.
“It’s normally one of the few times they don’t have to worry about being shot at, about IEDs. Yeah, I hope to see a difference in them by the time they graduate. It’ll feel good. A lot of them have never been through a police academy, never even fired a weapon. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m making a difference.”
I pulled up to the passenger drop-off zone. I put the car in park and turned off the ignition. I started to get out of the car, and the feeling hit me. My heart was being shredded. Despite all my bravado, I might not make it back. I might not be able to hold Sophie again.
“Let me move the car to the parking deck and you can come inside to say good-bye,” I said.
Her eyes softened. “Please don’t make this harder on us. I’m not going in. I can’t get beyond the passenger check-in anyway. Let’s say good-bye here.” Her voice pitched higher. She was as awful at good-byes as I was.
“Before I go, I have something for you.” I dug in the pocket of my cargo pants and pulled out a gift bag. I handed it to Sophie.
“You bought me a gift?” She shook her head in wonder.
“I know it won’t make up for the birthdays and anniversaries I’ve missed, but I saw this at Baker Street Market, and it reminded me of you.”
Sophie pulled the square of folded tissue paper from the bag. Her hands shook. She carefully opened the wrapping. The silver butterfly necklace dropped into the palm of her hand, and she breathed in sharply.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful.”
I traced the wing of the butterfly with my finger. “It reminds me of you, Soph. You’re so beautiful, and to the world, you appear fragile. But I know you have the strength to fly.”
Sophie looped the chain around her neck. “Can you hook this, babe?”
I closed the hook on the chain and leaned back to admire the necklace on Sophie.
“I won’t take it off until you come home.”
We’d been parked in a passenger drop-off zone long enough. The terminal security officer gave us the “move along” eye. I ought to have recognized that look. I’d given it to many while on patrol myself.
“I need to get going. We’ve been parked here too long.” I opened the car door, walked around to the trunk, and pulled out my bag. I had to stay in motion just to keep it together.
Sophie got out of her side of the car.
I stepped up on the curb beside her. She wrapped her arms around my waist. Seven years of motion ingrained in us. We fit together the way I was sure no other two people ever would. She laid her head against me, face curled against my neck. I felt a sigh course through her body. I pulled Sophie tighter against me. If I stayed longer, I’d lose my composure. Reluctantly, I released her and stepped away. With one swift motion, I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Bye, Soph.”
Her head turned down. Her hair fell across her face. She tried to hide her tears, but they fell to the pavement, dark circles on the cement.
I willed my feet to move quickly. I opened the door and swung my bag inside. With a sideways turn, I waved, but Sophie was gone, hidden behind the reflection in the glass door. Instead, I saw myself, mirrored. Alone.
I swallowed hard. Forced the peach pit in my throat to go down. This was for Sophie. This was for us. The first time I was running. Now I headed forward. I’d finish what I started and come home to be the man she needed. I hoped.
~*~
I picked up the pinwheel from my desk, carefully wiped the dust off the plastic blades, and tipped it with my finger. It spun, but with no breeze to sustain it, soon stopped. It was the only link left between Little Mac and me.
Classes at the academy were over for the day. The students were on their way to a well-earned rest. I picked up the picture of Sophie and I that I’d packed. I didn’t even tell her I’d taken it to Afghanistan with me. It was an old photo, taken when we first found out she was pregnant with Little Mac. She was sitting in my lap, and behind us, a fireworks display lit up the sky. In her hand was the blue pinwheel.
Travis knocked on the door. I stuffed the pinwheel in the pocket of my backpack.
“It’s time to award Camp Paradise’s Manliest Beard.” Travis had been waiting for this day for weeks, carefully cultivating his beard.
I looked in my scratched mirror. Travis had me beat. I followed him down the hallway and stepped into the blinding daylight. I quickly shoved my sunglasses down over my eyes.
Glenn
and Thorstad were already assembled at our bench.
Travis stepped in front of the three of us. He yelled above the noise of camp. “First, I would like to welcome you all to the First Annual Camp Paradise Manliest Beard contest. As you know, the categories are Manliest Beard of Camp Paradise, Best Moustache, and Most Creative.”
I held up my hand. “If we could take a minute before you announce, let’s line up for a picture. I want a record of this.”
Thorstad took my phone and positioned us along the T-wall. Travis and Glenn still wore their work clothes, polo shirts, cargo pants, and boots. I’d already changed into my tennis shoes, shorts, and a T-shirt. I was more than ready to relax after a long day in class. We posed, proud of our facial hair.
Glenn decided to keep his to a neatly trimmed short beard. A brown line of moustache covered his upper lip.
Travis sported a scraggly blond beard.
Mine was red, full on the sides and shorter at the bottom. I thought of shaving it before I went home but decided to keep it. It kept my face warm at night when it was cool and protected me from the desert sun.
Thorstad was participating but dropped out at the last minute. He only had a scraggly, wispy beard, and he finally gave up and shaved it off.
I was disappointed. I thought if Thorstad had stuck it out a few more weeks, he’d have had something.
Travis stepped up. “All-right, we took a poll in the academy. I had the students vote.”
He held a piece of paper with the vote tally written in scribbly handwriting. He looked toward Thorstad.
“The winner of Manliest Beard of Camp Paradise is—”
A blast shook the ground. Rockets roared, then another loud detonation. Dust and smoke filled the air. The camp warning system shrieked, “Incoming. Incoming.”
We looked at each other, stunned. Simultaneously we took off for the tent and our kits. I sprinted into my room and grabbed my vest and helmet. Another explosion rattled everything around me, then another closer in sequence. The concussion from an RPG shook my tent, and I staggered, falling to the floor.
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