by LK Collins
“Good morning, everyone,” Mack says, starting the meeting, and I’m pissed that Nixon isn’t here yet. That will be the last two meetings he’s missed. “So, I wanted to discuss these tropical storms headed towards us. We all know how unpredictable Mother Nature can be, so we have to be prepared for anything. First off, Tropical Storm Lena is expected to head north and not cause any imminent problems or damage to land. Although as you look outside now, you can see we’re already dealing with rain and some wind. That means, flight crews, you might get grounded if things pick up, but let’s hope not. You all know what your helicopters are capable of, and I’ll have a very close eye on things too. Next we have Tropical Storm Melo, and that is expected to hit a little north of us. Now, these things always change, so for now, I don’t want anyone freaking out. Let me worry about the storms. As for you all, it’s business as usual. Any questions?”
No one asks a thing, and as we all disperse from the room, Mack stops Guy, Luke, and I. “Where’s Nixon again?” he’s agitated, and I tell him, “He had to run an errand this morning. He’ll be here any minute.” Mack walks off and we head out into the shop. The guys don’t say anything to me, and as we round the corner, I spot Nixon pulling up.
About time! I text him and wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t. So I grab the checklist I need for our inventory. As I turn and head out of the bay, Nixon’s silhouette is standing in the doorway. He is frozen, our stares locked on each other’s. His eyes are red and glassy as he looks at me. Something is wrong. I’ve never seen Nixon like this, and my heart starts to pound, my insides tightening in fear. Slowly, I walk to him, afraid that this is him leaving me all over again. Once I reach him, he says to me, “It’s Conner…I’m so sorry, baby.” I swallow, taking in his words. No. What is he talking about?
But I can’t seem to find my voice, all I can do is focus on the sheer look of agony that plagues him. “He’s…he’s gone.”
“No,” I shake my head, tears bleeding down my cheeks as I fall against his chest. He holds me up, my strength depleted, and I sob like a child, wailing as his words pierce my heart.
Nixon tries to calm me down, shhhhing me as I ball my hands in fists, banging them on his chest. This is all his fault, being a SEAL was his idea. “You left him there,” I sob and my knees give out. He holds me up, crying, repeating the words, “I’m sorry,” over and over again.
“What’s wrong?” Guy asks and touches my back. But I can’t even answer him, all I can do is shake my head realizing that my brother is gone. He’s fucking gone! I felt it this morning and didn’t want to believe it…but my worst nightmare is now the reality of my life.
“Conner’s gone, man,” Nixon says, and I fight him to let me go, so hurt. Devastated. In the process, I fall to the ground. Nixon lifts me up and carries me away. He sits me in one of the chairs in Mack’s office and kneels between my legs.
I can’t breathe. Fuck, I can’t breathe.
“Calm down, Cam. Breathe,” he tells me, but his face is distorted and as I struggle for air, it gets worse. I look at him and gasp. “You…you…you…”
“Shhhh.” He holds my face tightly, cutting me off, and I look for him to make things right, to make it better, to bring Conner back. But he fucking can’t, and I can’t quiet the voice in my head that keeps pointing the finger at him.
He sits with me, letting me cry and work through the pain. Not loosening up on the grip he has on me at all. My insides are numb…part of me is gone. Staring at the corner of the room, I feel like I belong in a mental institution. My brain hurts so fucking bad and finally I ask, “What happened?” needing to know how.
“Not here, let’s talk about it at home,” he tells me.
There’s a light knock on the door, and Mack comes in with a bottle of water. “She okay?” he asks Nixon and he shrugs his shoulders.
Slowly I look at Mack and he passes me the water, “Drink some of this.”
Taking the bottle from him, it feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. “Why don’t you both go home and take some time?” Mack says.
“Thank you,” Nixon responds and Mack touches my shoulder, “Cameron, I’m so sorry about your brother. If there is anything that I or the Coast Guard can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”
I nod and watch Mack walk out. The only thing I need is my brother. “Come on, babe, let’s get you home,” Nixon says and in a daze, I stand, leaning on him for support. My legs are weak, and when we exit the room, I look and see everyone standing along the wall. I can barely make out their faces. As I walk past every one of them, they each step forward and hug me. I’m not even sure what they are all saying as I get passed down the line. The room is fuzzy and once I feel Nixon’s hands on me, I say to him, “Please, get me out of here.”
28
Nixon
Quietly, I come in from Cameron’s back patio, having called her parents again, but still I’m not able to get ahold of them. I’m not sure what to do. Sitting softly on the chair next to the sofa, she’s still asleep and I pray that she doesn’t wake up. Right now, sleep is the only place that she is not in pain.
My mind is still plagued with the images of her breaking down, when I told her how he passed. She lost control and freaked out. I’ve never seen her so upset and it scared the shit out of me.
Seeing her hurt like that was terrible, and I couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible. All I want to do is take her pain away, but I can’t. That is one of the worst parts about death—there is no rhyme or reason to it. It doesn’t warn you. It doesn’t let you pick and choose. Because if it did, I’d switch places with Conner in a fucking heartbeat.
But it’s not an option, so I have to be strong for her, no matter what. Even though she knew he risked his life every day, you can never prepare yourself for the magnitude of this kind of loss.
Saying goodbye to a family member, or anyone that you love, is the hardest thing you could ever imagine, but watching the person you care about most grieve when you are in pain yourself…and feel like you had a hand in it all…it’s fucking awful.
Closing my eyes, I can’t imagine what Conner went through. The explosion was so bad that there was nothing left of him to recover. A sob forms in my throat and I lean my head back reminding myself to stay strong…for Cameron.
My phone buzzes and I look to see a message from Guy, How are you two holding up?
I contemplate how to respond. What do you tell people in a time like this? When I lost my dad, I was so angry that I shut everyone else around me off. That’s the beginning of when I started to push Cameron away.
If there is anything you guys need, let me know, he texts me again.
I respond, Thanks, Cameron’s sleeping. It’s been rough.
I’m sorry, man. Please tell her we are all thinking about her.
And you too. he sends me in another text
I don’t respond. I know everyone feels terrible, but I also can’t help thinking that they blame me a bit. Hell, I blame my fucking self and Cameron does too. I shouldn’t have lost my temper so I could’ve stayed with Conner and done another tour. I should’ve ensured he came home safely to her. And had I not gotten kicked out, he likely wouldn’t have switched to land missions and been a hell of a lot safer out on the ship. Resting my face in the palms of my hands, the remorse is too great to handle, and I choke through another sob that I can’t hold back.
Shaking my head back and forth, struggling to catch my breath, Cameron touches my arm, and I look at her through my blurry eyes. “Come here,” she says, opening her arms to comfort me, and I slide along the sofa, our bodies resting chest to chest.
I push away my pain, not wanting her to see me like this and she says, “I’m sorry about earlier, and how upset I got.”
“No, babe, don’t apologize for shit. You had every right to react how you did. You’re fucking right—I can’t hide from the fact that I’m to blame.”
“No, Nixon! You’re not. Stop saying shit like that.
I was angry and didn’t mean what I said.”
“You don’t need to go back on how you really feel, Cam. It’s the fucking truth. Had I stayed, he wouldn’t have joined the land missions. He would have been safer on the ship.”
“How do you know that? You think he took your spot? That you were the only person who left?”
She’s right, there were reorgs every year. But the pain, the guilt, fuck…it hurts. I fight back the tears as her phone vibrates. Immediately, I grab it off the coffee table, wondering if it’s her parents. “Who is it?” she asks.
“It’s Luke.”
“Don’t answer it, I don’t want to talk to him. Did my parents ever call back?”
“No, and I tried them a couple more times, but their phones keep going to voicemail.”
“God, they’re gonna be so devastated. I don’t know how I’m gonna tell them,” she says.
“I can tell them.”
“No, I’ll do it. They need to hear it from me.”
“Okay,” I tell her and her stomach growls. It’s so loud. We haven’t eaten anything today and we need to. Kissing her on the forehead before I get up, I go look in the fridge.
“I’m not eating anything,” she says.
“Yes, you are.”
I find some leftovers from our dinner out last night and pop them in the microwave. As I stare at the seconds clicking down, Cameron asks me, “Do you think he suffered?”
Bracing my weight on the edge of the countertop, I don’t even want to imagine what the last seconds of his life entailed. “No, I don’t think so, baby.”
She exhales, her hands resting on her stomach as she looks up at the ceiling. “That’s good. That’s good. As long as he didn’t suffer.”
The microwave dings, the noise startling me, and I take the container to the couch, handing Cameron a fork. She looks at it and closes her eyes. “I really don’t want to eat.”
“I’m sure you don’t, babe, but you need to get some food in you.”
She nods and sits up. We each take tiny bites as the rain pelts against the windows. Her phone rings again and when the screen says “Dad” on it, she drops her fork. “I can do it for you, baby,” I offer again, and she shakes her head answering the call. “Daddy,” she says through a strained sob, and I rub her back, wishing I could give her the strength to tell her parents that Conner is gone.
Unfortunately, no matter what I want, nothing is going to help her. It just won’t. Her voice is strained, every word painful. And when the messages of blame start tearing at me again, I try to remind myself what she said to me, to see a different truth.
29
Cameron
I’ve never lost anyone close to me until Conner. As I sit back nestled in Nixon’s hold, the room is filled with the voices of Guy and Macey, and it makes sense to me how when you’ve never lost anyone close to you that you don’t understand the magnitude of grief until you experience it yourself.
I can tell Nixon is trying to be polite, talking to them, and I’m just blah…not in the mood to visit. It’s been five days and nothing seems to matter or to be any different with how I feel. The old saying, “Time heals all wounds” isn’t helping me…at all. “Cam? Baby?” Nixon nudges me and I look up at him slowly, like a robot.
“Do you want Macey to heat up the casserole they brought?”
“No, thanks.” I try to smile.
Guy says, “We really miss you at work.”
“I miss you, too,” I tell him and then feel myself drifting off again.
“Babe?” Nixon says nudging me again. Looking down at my hands in my lap, I have no clue what he’s talking about.
“Huh?”
“They’re leaving.”
I get off the couch, standing to hug both Guy and Macey. Guy pulls back and looks me in the eye; I can see how hard this is for him. “Anything you need, please ask…okay?” I nod and he shakes Nixon’s hand, “Remember what I said.” Before I can question him…they’re gone.
“That was nice of them, huh?” Nixon asks me.
“Yeah.” I glance over at myself, my stringy hair and pale reflection in the mirror looks terrible. “I think I wanna take a bath.”
“Okay, you want a glass of wine?”
I nod and lean into his lips as he kisses me before I walk off.
Turning on the water, I begin to fill the bath and slip out of my clothes. Sliding into the cool tub, waiting for it to be filled, I close my eyes. I’m so exhausted, even though all I do is sleep. Processing the loss and going through the grief is mentally taxing. Nixon comes in with a large glass of wine and sits on the floor next to me.
“Here you go, beautiful.”
“Thanks,” I tell him as I adjust the water with my toes, making it warmer.
He rubs my cheek with his thumb and says, “It was good to see them.”
“Yeah, it was. I feel bad that they can’t work without us.”
“Mack will get them some help.”
“When? In like a year?” I respond.
“Let’s hope not. But that’s not what’s important. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m okay, I really am.” I tell him.
“Can I make you anything to eat, even some toast?”
“Sure,” I tell him, knowing he won’t stop until I eat. He smiles and kisses my forehead, then leaves. Sliding further down, I keep calm, reminding myself to only think of good times with Conner. Not how he passed or what he went through.
Taking a sip of my wine, I hear Nixon turn the news up. It sounds like they are talking about the next tropical storm. As he comes in with my toast and more wine in hand, I ask him, “What are they saying?”
“Sounds like it’s expected to make landfall by this weekend.”
He sets my food on the edge on the tub and then gets undressed. “Scoot forward,” he tells me and gets in behind me. My body molds perfectly to his as I lean back against him and he feeds me a bite of toast.
Staring at the tile wall as I drown the noise of the TV out, Nixon says to me, “Did you want to go in and have lunch with the guys this week?”
“At work?”
“Uh huh.”
“Yeah, that’d be nice.”
“It will.”
“Maybe we could help out with the storm too?”
“You mean work?”
“Yeah.”
“No way,” he says, “It’s too soon,”
“Says who?” I ask him, offended. “I can go in and eat lunch, but I can’t work a little if I want to? Nixon, if I’ve learned one thing through all of this, it’s that you can’t put a timeframe on grief. I’m probably going to feel like this for years.”
“Come on, babe, it’s only been five days.”
“And I’m still in the same funk I was when I found out. No better. Maybe keeping busy would help?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, babe.”
“Well, you don’t get to choose on this one. Like when you left me. I didn’t think it was a good idea, but you still did it. It’s what Conner would want. He died fighting for our country, and if a storm is headed right towards our hometown, then I want to make a difference. Grieving or not.”
Nixon holds me tight, not responding to my idea. He’s trying to protect me, I get that. But if I keep lying around moping, then nothing will get any better and I don’t want that. I want to make my brother proud. I want to be happy and to make a difference, like Conner did. “Nixon, there are going to be people out there in this storm that we could save and bring home safely to their families, so they don’t have to go through what we are. You said so yourself that you would’ve switched places with Conner, so you’ve gotta understand what I mean.”
“And I do, Cam, please don’t think I don’t.” He kisses the top of my shoulder and I turn in his hold, gazing into his clear blue eyes. “I worry that you aren’t ready. You’re barely eating; you’re still processing everything. Just give it a few more weeks.”
“Weeks? No way.
I’ll start eating if that’s what you want.”
He exhales and grabs my face. “What I want…I want you to be okay and safe. I want you to take baby steps and not make a rash decision.”
“Coming from the guy who left me all those years ago and kept joining the Navy a secret until it was time to say goodbye.”
“Yeah…and it was the biggest mistake of my life.”
30
Nixon
Oh fuck, her mouth is so warm. I don’t want to open my eyes, this dream feels so real. It’s been too long since we’ve fucked. I need this, I need Cameron. Reaching down, I hold on to the sides of her face but…she pulls me out of her mouth.
Motherfucker.
I knew it would end, then out of nowhere, she’s straddling my body, the warmth of her skin above me heats me, and I open my eyes, needing to see if this is really happening or not. And sure enough, Cameron is hovering over me. My attention is drawn to her pussy as she reaches behind her and holds on to my shaft, sliding down on top of me.
A strong growl brews within my throat, echoing off the soft walls of her apartment. Then she begins to move, her hands placed neatly across my chest, smashing her tits together. Fuck, I’ve missed her.
She has her head back and is in her own world. Tilting my head to the side, I watch her, loving how lost she is, how nothing else matters, and for once… she doesn’t seem to be in pain. Bracing her thighs, my fingers dig deep as she fiercely bobs up and down on me, showing no mercy. She moans and I angle my head back, getting lost in her noises, pumping my hips upward each time she comes down on me. Her pussy is my salvation. With everything that we have been through…she is all I need.
“Oh God!” she cries, falling forward, releasing all her pent up pain and stress into an orgasm so amazing that I let go too as I slam her from underneath. My balls fire; the feeling can only be described as mind-blowing.
As she lies down on top of me, I tickle her back, trailing my fingers all over her skin. Her breathing is even, nice and calm, and I ask her, “Did you sleep okay?