36
Jake
I glance around the nearly empty pub, then back to my brother’s face. “This isn’t much of a bachelor party, Cameron. You sure you don’t want us to take you out to Miami Beach or something?” This place is dead. Of course, it doesn’t help that it’s only nine at night. Before rehab, nine was when I’d go grab a shower to start getting ready to go out. Most of the time, I didn’t even hit the clubs until after eleven, usually finding my way home, with at least one random girl on my arm as the sun came up.
“Nah, the guys on the team took me out for a wild night last week. Bottle service, models hanging at our table, the whole nine. I just wasn’t feeling it, you know? It’s just not who I am anymore, I guess I’ve settled down in my old age,” Cameron smiles and takes a long sip of his beer.
I get that. Thinking back to how I used to live feels like watching a movie of someone else’s life now. A train wreck of a movie at that. Partying all the time used to be my escape. My attempt to add a little color to the gray swamp I was sinking into. The thing is, you can dress up your ugly truth however you want, but it doesn’t change it. You can put a turd on the most delicious, home-baked bread and throw a million pictures of it up on Instagram with the best filters, but it’s still a shit sandwich.
Holly and rehab helped me see that I needed to change what was going on inside to really enjoy anything life had to offer. I know I’ve still got work to do, but now that I’ve had a taste of what a fulfilling life can feel like, I won’t be going back to turds on rye anytime soon.
“Doesn’t mean you’re old, and you sure as shit ain’t settled. Just means you’re in love,” Mack nods at Cameron. The two of them have been best friends since they served together in Afghanistan. My brother was a ground pounder over there and Mack was his officer. Years before that, they both graduated high school the same year, and now that they’re both retired from the service, their friendship has gone full circle.
“Couldn’t agree with you more, brother,” Cameron smiles at his old friend. “I don’t want to go out to some club and get my dick grinded by a random chick. Not when I have perfection waiting for me at the altar tomorrow,” he takes another drink. “Besides, why would I want to go out on the town like some kind of frat boy when I’ve got my real brothers here? This is better than some wild night I’d probably regret.”
I take a gulp of my Pepsi. Not rum and Pepsi. Not rye and Pepsi. Just regular soda and ice. It still feels weird to be at a bar without drinking. I’ll take ‘weird’ over the twisting knife of guilt slicing through my guts any day. I promised Holly I would stay sober, but more importantly, I promised myself.
“I can’t believe you’re getting married tomorrow,” I shake my head. “It’s even crazier that you’re going to be a dad soon,” I smile. “When is Chelsea due again?”
“Beginning of August. If it all works out right, we’ll be married before summer camp starts for me and the baby should be here before the season starts in the fall.”
“Sounds like it was all meant to be. You’re having an amazing year, Cameron. I’m proud of you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for your draft,” I look down at the sturdy wooden table we’re all leaning on.
“Don’t be. I’m proud of you too, man. You got your shit sorted out, dealt with it head on. Besides, you’re still my best man, right? That’s the main thing.”
“True,” I sit up straighter, feeling less like a loser with my unmixed drink.
“Yeah, just throwing it out there, but I got robbed, by the way,” Mack smirks at me.
“What?”
“I mean, I made him my best man at my wedding,” he jerks his thumb at my big brother, “but then when it’s his turn to get married he chooses you.” He jokes.
“Well, we are related and all that,” I shrug.
“Nepotism,” Mack laughs. “It’s supposed to be the best man for the job, not the best sibling,” he takes a drink of his beer.
“He did,” I shoot back, “can’t help it if I’m so good I win both titles.”
Mack laughs good naturedly and claps his hand on my shoulder, “You’re right, he did. I’m just fucking around.”
“Well, it means a lot to me that you’re both going to be there. The world, actually.” Cameron leans in and looks at us earnestly.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, man.” I answer. Mack nods in agreement.
Cameron clears his throat loudly and slides his chair back. “Ok, enough of that,” he let’s out a dry laugh. “I’ll go get us another round,” he throws his broad shoulders back and strolls over to the bar.
Mack and I sit in silence for a moment, then he tilts his head and looks at me, “So how are things now that you’re back? You’ve been pretty quiet about returning to your unit.”
I take a sharp breath, not prepared to let go of the secret that I’ve been holding onto. That I’m leaving the SEALs. It’s not that I’m ashamed of my decision or anything, it’s just that this is my brother’s night and I didn’t want to make it all about me.
“Uh, I’m not sure.” I do a terrible job at avoiding the question.
“You’re not sure?” He presses me.
“Well, I guess I am sure. I just, well I haven’t told my family yet, but I’m not re-enlisting. My contract runs out in a couple of months and that’s it for me,” I admit. My body feels lighter after letting go of the burden of truth.
“Why’s that?” Mack is no idiot, he knows he’s making me uncomfortable. So, why is he pushing this so hard?
“It’s just not for me, things have changed.” I fling a flimsy excuse back at him.
“What changed?”
My eyes snap up at him, silently demanding that he let this go, but he doesn’t back down.
“I’ve just got other things I want to do now. Besides, now that Holly and I are together, I don’t want to be deploying all the time, you know?” I give him half the truth. “Why, what’s with all the questions?” I flip the tables, seeing how he likes being put on the spot.
“All right! Got two beers and a soda.” Cameron interrupts, plopping the drinks down on the table.
“Thanks, man,” I look up at my brother, happy for the distraction to Mr. Twenty-questions over there.
“Yeah, no problem. I’m just gonna take a piss, I’ll be back,” he peels off again leaving me in an awkward silence with Mack.
“Look man, it’s none of my business or anything,” Mack begins.
“Yep.” My tone is sharp.
“Right, but I can’t help but notice you’ve got that stare, Jake.” He continues.
“What stare?” I look up at him, letting some of my irritation slide away into curiosity.
“That million-mile stare, man. The one you get when you’ve seen shit you can’t unsee. Now, I don’t know if that’s the case. I don’t know if that’s part of the reason you’re getting out,” he raises his hands like I’m pointing a gun at him. “I’m just saying it looks like you’ve got it. I would know. I’ve been there,” he confesses.
I remember his struggle well. He came back from the war a national hero, and it didn’t take long for the media coverage on him to change when he had a huge PTSD flashback and tried to drag someone out of their car. The backlash was swift, until Cooper Sanders, the famous news anchor interviewed him and Mack admitted he needed help.
“I know you do,” I nod. “I, uh, well…” My gaze blurs and I rub my hands over my face, anxious to make this, to make all of this, this conversation, this pain, these memories that haunt me, this endless feeling of guilt, all of it, go away. “Yeah, I’m dealing with that shit too,” I finally let the truth spill free.
Mack just nods, pulls his wallet out and plucks a card from within. “Here,” he hands it over to me, “A few years ago, I was in your shoes. I wish someone would’ve let me know about Wounded Warriors before it all broke me, man. I went to them for help, and now I work for them. My life’s never been better. Think about it, ok?”
I t
urn the card over in my hands. It feels like I just won a fucking golden ticket. Maybe this is my way out. My chance to finally break through the surface of the sea of horrors I’m drowning in and pull that first breath of fresh air into my burning lungs.
“Thanks, Mack,” I run my thumb over the card. Maybe the ticket to my freedom.
“No problem. Take it from me, don’t wait until you make the wrong kind of headlines before you do something about it. You and your girl deserve better than that.” He looks me straight in the eyes.
“You’re right, man.” I put the card in my own wallet, and feel something that I can’t remember feeling in years.
Hope.
“Hey! Why so serious? This is a celebration, not a funeral!” Cameron squeaks his chair across the hardwood and plunks back down on it.
“Hey man, if it’s alright with you, how about we make this our last drink?” Mack looks over at Cameron. “Maybe I am getting old after all, but I’d like to have an early night so I don’t look like a bag of shit at your wedding tomorrow.”
“Well, you do want to look pretty for all the pictures, right?” Cameron teases him.
“Exactly. Gotta get that beauty sleep,” he laughs.
“How about you? You wanna hit the road?” My brother looks across the table at me.
“Huh?” I pull myself from my distracted thoughts about what Mack told me. About new beginnings. About hope.
“Yeah, let’s call it.” I agree. “Chelsea will have our necks if you ruin her wedding pictures looking like a tired old man,” I chuck shit at my brother.
“True,” Cameron takes a long swig of his beer. “Very true. Ok, let’s roll boys,” he laughs. “Nah, I’m just kidding, you can finish your drinks first,” Mack and I smile.
As Cameron and Mack finish up their beer, I have a hard time pretending to listen to their conversation. I can’t help but let my thoughts drift to an unfamiliar place. To the future. My future. Instead of all of the dread and uncertainty those thoughts are usually weighed down by, for once, I let myself dream of the possibilities.
For once, I have hope.
37
Jake
“You wanna explain to me how you got kicked out of your own house the night before your wedding?” Mack busts Cameron’s chops as I pull the car up to the curb at the front of the hotel.
“I didn’t get kicked out. She just didn’t want us seeing each other until tomorrow. I guess it’s bad luck or some crazy superstition.”
“Poor guy,” I mock him. “She’s got you slumming it here at the Ritz with us while she has your new place to herself.”
“Yeah, she’s got her Mom with her,” Cameron shrugs. “All I know is, you don’t argue with a pregnant lady and you don’t argue with your fiancée right before the wedding. If your fiancée happens to be a pregnant woman, you suck it up and make her happy. If it’s important to her, it’s important to me,” he gets out of the car. Mack frees himself from the backseat and slams the car door shut as I make my way from the driver’s seat. I toss the keys to the valet waiting behind a little podium by the front door, “Hey, Cameron! Tell the guy your room number,” I jerk my head in the direction of the hotel staff.
“Right, uh,” Cameron pulls out his hotel card and reads off the information, “it’s for room eleven-eighty-three.” The valet nods and scurries over to the car as the three of us enter the massive glass doors to the lobby.
“Cameron? Jake? Uh, do you guys have a minute?”
“Dad?” We both answer, looking at each other with unasked questions in our eyes.
Why is he waiting for us in the hotel lobby, pouncing out of the shadows the minute we get back? What’s going on?
“I should get back to my room,” Mack excuses himself from our unexpected family reunion. “Lauren’s probably at the end of her rope with the kids,” he explains.
“Ok man, I’ve got wake up calls set for all of the rooms. I’ll see you in the morning,” my brother calls out to him as Mack crosses the lobby and strolls past the elevators, opting to take the stairs instead.
My attention turns back to my father. It would seem he’s finally come out of hiding. I didn’t expect to see him until the ceremony tomorrow. Mom came out to dinner with us earlier tonight along with Mack and his family, but she made a lame excuse about why our father couldn’t join us.
“So, your headache is all gone then?” I give him a sharp look.
“What?”
“That’s what I thought,” I mutter.
“Never mind that,” Cameron flickers his eyes from my face to Dad’s. “What’s going on? Is everything ok?” His voice is full of concern.
“Yes, everything is good. Don’t worry. I, uh, well,” Dad rubs his hand over the back of his neck and looks down at his feet. “I was hoping I could talk to you boys, if that’s ok. I mean, if you’re not too busy.” He mumbles.
Cameron and I exchange another look. What the hell is this about? I decide to let the chip fall from my shoulder and agree to find out.
“Sure,” I answer.
“Yeah Dad, do you guys want to come up to my room and talk?”
“Yeah,” Dad answers, “I’d like that.”
We make our way to the elevator in silence. The ding of the metal doors sliding open for us is absurdly loud in the noiseless vacuum we’ve created. Cameron pushes the buttons and we wordlessly travel up to the eleventh floor.
Ding!
Dad and I follow Cameron’s lead, down the hall to his room. I can’t stop wondering what this is about. Is there some bad news he needs to give to us? Is he dying? I shake the thoughts from my head and settle down on the couch in the living area of my brother’s hotel room.
“What’s up, Dad?” Cameron prompts our father to break his tense silence and spill it. However, Dad just looks out the window at the twinkling lights of the city below.
“You’ve got a beautiful view here,” he marvels.
“Did you really want to admire the sights, or was there something you wanted to talk about?” I don’t mean to snap at him. However, the residue of the last talk I had with my father is still clinging to my heart. Like plaque.
Dad clears his throat loudly and turns around. His eyes are watery and his cheeks are flushed. I instantly feel remorse for giving the old man attitude. Obviously, something is going on with him. I should zip my lips and let him talk at his own pace.
“You’re right, just nervous I guess,” he slides his hands down over his pants and walks slowly to the couch, sitting down beside me. Cameron plops himself down in the chair opposite us, never taking his eyes off our father.
“Why are you nervous?” I can see my brother’s wheels spinning as he ponders the same questions I was just sifting through a minute ago. “Dad, are you ok?” His voice is soft, like he’s afraid to ask the question.
“Yes, I am. Well, I will be. I just needed to talk to my boys. It’s just,” he takes a deep, unsteady breath and looks from Cameron to me, “I wanted to say I’m sorry to you two.” His words are shaky and don’t make sense to my ears. My father never apologizes. At least, not for as long as I can remember.
“Sorry?” I repeat the word like it’s foreign.
“What for, Pops?” Cameron tilts his head.
“Boys, I’ve had a lot of time to think over the past couple of months. Cameron, you’ve got your first child, my first grandchild on the way and I guess it’s been getting me thinking. I’m an old man now, I’ve had a long life to reflect on.”
“Oh, come on, you’re not that old, Dad,” Cameron rolls his eyes.
“Maybe not, but you two are grown men now and it’s easy to look back and think about all the mistakes I’ve made raising you both. Cameron, I wasn’t very supportive of you going after your football dream, and look at you,” Dad raises his hand like he’s trying to lift my brother in the palm of his hand, “you made it in the NFL. I told you before how proud I am of you, but I can’t say it enough. I’m glad you didn’t listen to me,” Dad look
s up at my brother with shining eyes. I stare at Cameron too, and raise a questioning eyebrow. He never told me that he and my father had a heart-to-heart while I was in rehab. I guess I missed a lot while I was away.
The memory of my father yelling at me on Family Day while I was in rehab comes back to me with a stinging slap. I set my jaw and lower my eyes to the floor as I watch him storm out of the room, out of my recovery and out of my life all over again in my mind.
“Jake,” Dad interrupts the memory, “I didn’t treat you right when you went to Canada to get help, son. I was just so shocked by your addiction and you getting in trouble that I didn’t even focus on the part that mattered the most. That you got the help you needed. I’m proud of you for doing what you needed to get back on track so you can go back to being the best Navy SEAL you can be,” his chin lifts with pride as he says that last part. Something inside me wants to take that away from him. To leave him feeling as crushed as he left me when he stomped out of Edgewood that day.
“I’m not staying with the SEALs, Dad,” I answer calmly.
“What?” He twists fully around on the couch so he’s facing me straight on, his face is contorted like he just stepped on a nail.
“I’m not re-upping. My contract runs out in a couple of months and I’m moving on with my life. It’s what’s best for me, for my sobriety, for my peace of mind, and for Holly.” I tap on a finger for each thing on my list. Dad opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish, but for once he doesn’t have anything to say. I’ve got to admit, it feels good to watch him grapple with my words. To take away something that meant so much to him… too much to him. Just like he was so quick to take away his love as soon as I hit a speed bump on my life’s path.
“You never told me that,” Cameron darts his eyes over to me.
“This is your time. I didn’t want to make it all about me,” I confess with a shrug.
Dad sits up straighter, forcing his shoulders back. Here it comes. Let’s hear how I’m a fuck up. A failure. How he’s not proud of me, or worse.
Navy SEAL Bad Boy Page 16