by Harper James
Right through the door, I nearly collide with a petite brunette sporting a pixie cut I’d die to be able to pull off.
“Ah! Sorry, did I hit you?” I ask, pulling the door back— it opened inward and right on her.
“No! But you’re Karli, right? I’m Sierra. Nathan said I should talk to you. You’re new to the whole love’s-far-away-on-deployment thing, huh?” she asks cheerfully. There’s something about her voice that is contagious; it makes me smile at her despite the fact that I’m feeling more than a little wrung out inside.
“I am! That’s really nice of Nathan. How long have you guys been together?” I ask, leaning again the wall.
“Four years,” Sierra says. “He was deployed or in work-ups for two of them, basically.”
“Two years?” I ask, eyes wide.
She laughs a little. “Yeah, SEAL deployments are a little shorter, usually— I think less than six months most of the time. They’re still hard, especially when you’re a new relationship. How long have you and Heath been together?”
I wince. “A week and a half.”
“Oh!” she says, looking startled. “Wow, so it’s like…really new. How long have you known each other?”
I wince harder, and finally look at the ground. “A week and a half.”
“Oh!” she says again, and I can tell she has no idea what to say to this. “Well…” Sierra begins slowly. “It’ll be hard. But if you and Heath both want to make it work, it can. It makes it tricky, though, because you’ll be getting to know him from far away, you know?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’ll…I mean, we’ve spent basically the entire week and a half together, so we’re more than just a few dates?” I say weakly, wondering if this is any kind of decent defense.
“Of course! Yeah, of course,” Sierra says, nodding supportively. “You both seem really happy about the relationship. It’s tricky making it when you’re apart, I won’t lie, but it’s not impossible.”
“Yeah. If it’s just six months…” I say, trailing off.
Sierra gives me a sort of grim smile. “Well, it’s six months of deployment. But I’ll level with you— he won’t necessarily be home right after. There’s training and sessions and work-ups and…a lot, honestly. I’m definitely not trying to suggest it can’t work out or anything, but I do think you need to know what you’re in for. It’s a lot of phone sex, basically.” She’s laughing at the end. I try to smile along, but I know it looks fake— because it is.
“I live in Denniston,” she says when she sees my expression, her voice sincere and kind. “If you need anything, look me up on Facebook, okay? Heath and Nathan aren’t tight, so don’t feel like you can’t talk to me.”
“Thanks,” I say sincerely.
Sierra scowls at something behind me; I turn to see Vic and the guy I remember as her boyfriend racing to drink Irish car bombs. “I wish Heath and Nathan were tight. He’d be a better friend than Vic.”
“How does Nathan know Vic?” I ask, noting the difference in age. “Was Vic like his…commander or…something?” I flush, realizing I know zero of the terminology and hoping it’s not a total military-girlfriend faux pas.
“Ha,” Sierra says, voice darkening as they load up a second round of car bombs. “Vic’ll never be in charge of much, not the way he acts. He’s been twenty-two for the last thirty years. Nah, they met at some sort of training and Vic…well. Vic is charismatic, if you’re a young soldier. He buys a round for the bar, he helps you get through drill, he’s nice. And he’s also an enormous man-child.”
“No kidding,” I say, thinking about my first interaction with him. “Heath and him aren’t very much alike.”
“No,” she agrees. “Neither are he and Nathan, really. It’s when all these guys get together, especially before one leaves…that’s when they sometimes wind up like this. Expect to be rolling Heath into bed tonight, and not in a sexy way.”
I shake my head. “He’s leaving tomorrow, so it’s our last night together.”
Sierra gives me a sympathetic look, one she quickly chases with “Oh, right! I’m sure it’ll be fine then. And hey, remember that he’s a SEAL. There’s no one more qualified for the missions he’s going on, right? So try not to worry too much. Remember— message me if you need to chat!”
I nod, but I’m not thinking about Facebook or SEAL qualifications or even the deployment, right now— I’m thinking about Heath, and I’m staring at Vic.
What world have I gotten myself into?
Chapter 23
I make my way to Heath’s bedroom, still clean, flawless, smelling like deodorant and masculinity. The party has been going on for hours, and much to my dismay, every time a group leaves, a new group of guys arrives. It’s clear they’re mostly Vic’s friends, but it’s also clear that there’s a connection between all of these men— they all serve the country, they all know what it’s like to fight, to be afraid, to overcome that fear. Vic’s friends or not, I see them all make their way to Heath and wish him good luck or offer to keep him in their prayers.
Which is nice, really— but…it goes on for hours, and hours, and hours, and the alcohol seems to be as endless as the stream of military buzz cuts. It’s ten o’clock now, according to my phone, which lights up Heath’s darkened room, casting shadows that make me very aware of how alone I am in here.
I’m being selfish. I know I’m being selfish, wanting him to come to me, wanting him to leave all these well-wishers behind and spend his last few hours with me alone. But I’m not used to this, this saying goodbye, this hardcore celebration over something that, to me, feels like anything but a celebratory event. At about eleven o’clock, I hear a chorus of cheers from the kitchen, and look out to see Heath and Vic competing in a keg stand. Heath loses to Vic, who high fives him before play punching him in the shoulder.
They’re both wildly drunk. I’m sure Vic has technically consumed far more alcohol than Heath, but Vic is also better trained at the art of being shit-faced. Heath is laughing loudly, loose on his feet, the strong shouldered confidence blurred at the edges. If this is how he’d looked the first time we met, I don’t know that I would have fallen so hard. This version of Heath isn’t in control, or cool, or firm. He’s incredibly attractive physically, but his demeanor makes you want to shake your head or help him to the car.
I close the door. I don’t want to watch this. Especially since Sierra’s words are echoing through my mind— that Heath was going to have to be rolled into bed tonight.
I didn’t know that. She did, because she knew how these parties worked. She knew how it’d feel for him to be gone. She knew what it was like to be a military girlfriend, and she appeared to be good at it.
But I don’t know anything. I don’t know Heath’s favorite color or how he feels about shooting an enemy. I don’t know who his first kiss was or what food he misses the most when he’s away. I don’t know his mom’s first name. I don’t know his middle name. And I definitely don’t know how to say goodbye for over six months, knowing I’ll have to do it all again because that’s just what it means when you’re with a SEAL.
Around two o’clock in the morning, the noise dies down, and I dare to creep out of the bedroom. To my surprise, the place isn’t totally trashed— but that’s clearly due to some helpful partygoers rather than Heath or Vic’s efforts, since they two of them are passed out in the main room. Heath is on the floor, sleeping flat-backed, a small pillow from the couch tucked behind his head. Vic, on the other hand, is sprawled across the couch like he was crumpled up and thrown there.
I carefully pick my way over to Heath and kneel down, thinking about how I wore this outfit specifically for him, about how I DIDN’T wear underwear specifically for him. About how tonight I wanted us to be together for the last time in who knows how long. I’d made mental notes to remember to focus on how his arms felt around me, on how he smelled, on how he tasted— things to keep with me after he left.
“Heath?” I say quietly, shaking his shoulder.
>
“Hm?” he asks, creaking his eyes open.
“Are you coming to bed?” I ask.
“Mmhmm, minute,” he mumbles, and closes his eyes again.
I wait for a second, and it’s clear he’s fallen back asleep. I prod at his shoulder a second time. “Heath?”
“What?” he asks, almost snapping, eyes opening. He can’t quite focus on me, not with all the alcohol in his system
I look at him, tears of hurt welling up. “I just wanted to see you tonight,” I whisper.
“Ok, ok,” he says, and starts to turn over, like he’s going to push himself up.
But then he goes still, and I realize he’s fallen asleep again. I bite my lip and look over my shoulder at Vic, snoring loudly on the couch. Even if the party went down this way, we were still supposed to have tonight, weren’t we?
I swallow and make my way back to Heath’s bedroom. I could go home, I guess, and I almost do— but I said I’d drive him to the airport tomorrow, and if I leave, then this will be the last time I see him: Drunk, on the floor, snapping at me.
Maybe tomorrow morning will be better. Maybe we’ll have time, or we can stop and get coffee or something, ANYTHING that doesn’t have Vic’s influence tainting it.
I sleep in my clothes, pulling Heath’s perfectly straight sheets up to my neck. I bury my face in his pillow, inhaling the scent of him. I’ll have this to remember, at least. This moment. Even if I’m as alone as I’ll be after Heath is gone.
Chapter 24
The next morning I’m woken to the sound of Heath creeping into the room, bleary-eyed and rumpled from his night on the floor. It’s late, for him— the sun is starting to lighten up the horizon, turning the mountains into silhouettes of ocean waves. I upright when he shuts the door behind him.
“Morning,” he says hoarsely, looking somewhat weak on his feet. He sits down on the edge of the bed and leans forward to kiss me. I smile— until the scent of cigars and booze on his breath makes me gag and turn away.
“That bad?” he asks, rubbing the back of his head.
“You were so drunk,” I say, looking down. I’d forgotten for a few seconds how everything had gone last night, but it’s all rushing back. I blink the sleep from my eyes and sit back against the headboard.
“Sorry— everyone just wants to have a beer with the guy going back out there, and my dad…well…it’s not a party if you don’t pass out, as far as he’s concerned,” Heath says, looking mildly sheepish— but only mildly, like it’s an emotion he’s intentionally trying to convey rather than one that comes naturally.
“I wanted to spend the night with you. It’s our last night together,” I say quietly.
Heath exhales. “We have a few hours now,” he says compromisingly.
“That’s not really the same thing,” I say. “I just— I thought it was going to be me and you and your dad and a few friends, and suddenly I was at a frat party all on my own, basically, and—“
“I’m sorry about last night— I didn’t mean for it to go so far. It’s hard to turn Vic down, though.”
“You’re a SEAL, Heath. You clearly have a flair for things that are hard,” I say stiffly.
“Different kind of hard,” he argues, then sighs and looks down. “I don’t want to argue with you Karli. Not when I’m about to leave. I’d much rather spend the time with you.” There’s a truce on the word “with”— an implication, a hope I’ll slip out of this dress for him.
And I want to, really. But my throat feels thick and my body is anything but warm, much less hot with desire. This is what I wanted last night. This is what I thought we had last night.
“I just wish you hadn’t gotten so drunk. I don’t mind the party, but did it have to go so far?” I ask, voice rocky.
Heath’s mouth firms— he’s clearly disappointed to see that fences won’t be mended nearly as easily as he’d hoped, despite his imminent departure. “Karli, we’ve been together every night for the last week and a half.”
“I know, and I know it sounds selfish, it’s just…you’re leaving, and I barely know how to deal with that. And then to think we had this time, only to lose it…”
“That’s how it works,” he says. “That’s what being with someone on active duty means.”
I flinch at his words, at how harsh they feel. “Yeah, but being with someone on active duty doesn’t mean watching him get near blackout drunk the night before he leaves. You and your dad were the only ones who took it that far.”
“Well, Vic is my father, so to some degree he’s what being with me means too,” Heath says sharply. “You knew what he was like. Why is this such a surprise?”
“Because I didn’t know you could be so much like him. I thought you knew that he isn’t…that being your buddy isn’t the same thing as being your father. I thought you accepted it about him but didn’t condone it, but…you do, don’t you?”
“That’s just how he is. It’s how he’s always been. Yeah, it’s not perfect, but he’s my father. I don’t condone it, I just—“
“You do, though,” I say, voice cracking. “When you let him get you that drunk, when you spend the night on the floor instead of in the bed with me because of him, you condone it.”
Heath goes rigid, stiff and angular. It’s hard for me not to imagine for an instant how frightening he would look, were I an enemy combatant.
“Fine. Sure. But I don’t condone his behavior any more than you condone your mom’s— you rush over there to investigate any time she calls, you talk her through anxiety—“
“That’s a mental health issue, Heath.”
“So is alcoholism,” he answers, and I’m cowed.
“Listen,” he says, taking a breath. “I don’t want to fight with you. I’m sorry I didn’t get to come be with you last night—“
“You chose not to come be with me,” I say, shaking my head.
“Okay, I chose not to come be with you. But Vic is family, and so are all the guys that were over here.”
“What am I, though?” I ask hesitantly. “Because it makes sense that you would ditch me if I’m a fling, or if you know you won’t have to deal with me after today.”
“Neither of those things is true, and you know it,” Heath says.
“And in that case it doesn’t make sense. In that case, it means you spent all day drinking and smoking with guys, most of whom were you dad’s buddies anyway, instead of spending it with a girl you care about more than just a fling. It means you chose them over me. And I know we don’t know one another that well, Heath, but if I’m going to do this— if I’m going to wait for you—“
“I didn’t ask you to wait for me,” Heath says darkly.
My mouth drops. “Are you serious right now?”
“I didn’t ask you to. If you do, that’s your choice, but—“
“Of course I’m going to wait for you. But only if I’m waiting for something that’s real.”
Heath exhales and holds his arms out. “It’s real to me Karli— but this is who I am. Vic is part of who I am. Deploying and leaving you and coming back is who I am. So if you can’t handle that—“
“I can handle you leaving, Heath, or at least I think I can. But if it’s not going to be worth the wait, then—“
“Then I don’t know either,” Heath says, letting his arms fall to his sides.
We both fall silent. I pull my knees to my chest and hug them tightly. What am I supposed to say right now? I don’t want to fight any more, I don’t want to spend time angry. Still, I can’t just pretend that everything is fine. I can’t just kiss him and then spend the next six months wondering what we really were— or, should the worst happen, a lifetime wondering.
“I need to head to the airport soon,” Heath says slowly, dully.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“Vic can take me,” Heath says.
I bite my lip, cut by this suggestion— I was supposed to take him. That’s been the plan all along, and I open my mouth to argue…but why
? Will anything change in the next two hours? This problem is too big for such a small amount of time to fix. This problem might be too big for any amount of time to fix.
“Are you saying I should leave?” I ask weakly.
Heath exhales. “I’m saying that maybe we get in touch when I come back, and see if we can talk things out.”
“So you’re saying I should leave,” I repeat.
“I’m saying that I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to spend my last little bit before deployment in an argument, or feeling guilty, or apologizing for drinking with my friends.”
“You weren’t drinking, Heath, you were passed out—“
“No,” he says. “Look, I should have known this would just end with you getting hurt. I’m sorry for that. But I can’t be sorry for what and who I am.”
“I’m not asking you to be sorry, Heath, I’m asking you to just be considerate.”
“I’ll get in touch when I come back,” Heath says, looking away. It feels like I’ve been punched. Is this real? After all that, after the time we’ve been together, the things we’ve done together…he’d rather walk away than meet me in the middle on this?
I swallow. “Alright,” I say, rising, refusing to cry. “If that’s what you really want.”
“I think it’s for the best,” he says, and his voice is different. No, no— his voice is the same voice he used when we first met, the same voice he uses with everyone else. The voice he hasn’t used with me since our first night together.
So I rise from his bed, tug my dress down to cover myself, and hunt for my shoes. I slide them on, grab my purse, taking my time, waiting to hear him interject, to feel his hand on my arm, to feel him pulling me toward him.
It doesn’t happen.
So I leave Heath’s house. I leave him. I leave it all, and it isn’t until I’m through my own front door that I realize it’s all over nearly as suddenly as it all began.