by June Gray
“The first time took about a month, for me at least.”
I blew out a breath. “Okay. That seems like a long time,” I said. “But at least I’ll eventually stop missing him so much, right?”
She shook her head. “I think it’s more like you just get mentally tougher, so you learn to avoid dwelling on the fact that he’s gone.”
“How do I do that?”
“I’m not sure. You just do it. When you start thinking about how much you miss him, just distract yourself. Put on a movie, read a book, do anything. Just don’t give any thought to how much you miss him.”
“Does that actually work?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes.”
* * *
I didn’t hear from Henry until the Tuesday after he left. I tried to take Beth’s advice and keep myself occupied but it was impossible to concentrate without knowing Henry had made it to Bagram Air Base safely. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything for the next six months.
Then on Tuesday morning, at some godawful time, my cell phone began to ring. I was instantly alert and cried into the phone, “Henry?”
“Hey, Els!” Hearing his voice felt like heaven; it caressed down my back and loosened the knot of worry around my heart. “We made it. We’re here.”
I sat up, glad to finally have some time to talk. “I’m happy to hear that. It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“You too. How are you?” he asked.
“Absolutely miserable,” I said.
“Listen, I have to get going. Other guys have to call home,” he said. “I love you, Elsie. I miss you so much already.”
“I love you too,” I responded, and much too quickly, the call ended. I hugged his pillow to my chest and for the first time in so many days, I finally breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Henry was okay.
Three days down, a bajillion more to go.
* * *
The first week of deployment was definitely the toughest. The imbalance to my routine was terrifying, and I often fumbled around like I’d forgotten a step. At night I sat in the apartment, feeling so lonely I thought I’d go out of my mind, and watching those sappy romcoms that Henry refused to sit through certainly didn’t help—in fact, it had the opposite effect.
My body also physically ached from missing him, a feeling that was wholly new to me. After Jason died I missed him intensely but I never felt an ache in my bones, as if I were walking around with a missing limb, like I was currently experiencing with Henry.
Then it started to get better. Thankfully.
After that initial month, I finally started to sleep in my own bed again. Partly because I missed my pillowtop mattress, but also because I knew I couldn’t sleep in Henry’s bed forever. It was high time I put on my big-girl panties and sleep in my big-girl bed.
Henry called as often as he could, which amounted to a five-minute call every four or five days, but he emailed almost every day. He mostly talked about the base and his job, but sometimes he’d write out long, graphic emails detailing what he wanted to do to me. Those emails would get me so aroused, I eventually had to go into the back of my closet and break out my stash of battery-operated buddies.
The best part of Henry’s emails was always at the end, when he’d write that he loved and missed me, that he couldn’t wait to come home to me. I didn’t think I’d ever tire of seeing those words.
* * *
In the third month, the emails stopped. So, too, did the phone calls. I called Beth in a mild state of panic, and she confirmed that she hadn’t heard from Sam either.
“But they’re probably just on a base comm lockdown or something,” she said. “They do that from time to time.”
She promised she would call if she heard anything, so I sat on my hands, trying to remain cool. I waited with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, that little ball of dread growing with each passing moment.
One night, while I was trying to distract myself with a Firefly marathon, my cell phone rang with a call from an unknown Oklahoma number. The caller turned out to be David Novak, Henry’s buddy from another squadron on Tinker.
“Hey, Elsie,” he said. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay. Trying to keep busy. You?”
“Doing good. Just got back from a TDY in Vegas.”
TDY stood for Temporary Duty, a trip that sometimes lasted a few days, sometimes weeks. “Sounds rough.”
“Oh, it was. All that sun, booze, gambling, women. I’m exhausted.” He laughed. “Anyway, Logan asked me to check up on you before he left. So this is me checking up on you.”
My heart warmed at the thought. “That’s sweet. Thanks, I’m fine.” I bit my lip, wondering if I was crossing any boundaries, but ultimately decided the question needed to be asked. “Although, I did want to ask if you’d heard anything from Bagram.”
Dave was quiet for a long time. Too long.
My heart began to beat at double speed. “Is Henry okay?”
He cleared his throat. “Well, it hasn’t been released to the media yet. So I can’t tell you.”
“It?”
“There was an incident.”
The hair rose on my arms. “But is Henry . . . Is he okay?”
Dave sighed. He was in the same squadron that my brother was in, knew that Jason’s death hit me hard. “Yeah. He’s fine.”
I breathed a sigh of relief all the way down to my toes. “Thanks, Dave.”
“Just keep an eye out. I’ll be able to tell you more about it once the media starts squawking.”
“I will. Thanks.”
“So, hey, a bunch of us are going out this Friday. Do you want to come?”
“Sure, why not.” That’s one Friday that I wouldn’t have to spend alone.
“The other guys are bringing their girlfriends, so you won’t be the only girl,” he said.
I smiled, the first real one in so many weeks. “Sounds like fun.”
* * *
Dave insisted on picking me up on Friday night and I accepted, not really eager to walk around Bricktown in the dark by myself. Everyone was already there when we arrived, and they greeted us with drunken shouts and cheers. I played fast and loose with the alcohol, glad that for once my thoughts were not being monopolized by a certain tall, dark, and sexy man.
“Hey, did you see on the news today?” Kelsie, the wife of one of the captains, asked as we sat around the booth. “The base was attacked.”
Dave nudged me with his elbow, letting me know that this was what he had been referring to.
“What happened?” I asked. “I haven’t had a chance to watch the news.” Honestly, I’d actually been avoiding any coverage on Operation Enduring Freedom for fear of picking up more unfounded fears. Remaining ignorant about the goings-on in Afghanistan meant less ammo for my nightmares.
“A suicide bomber drove a passenger van with a VBIED to the gate and shot the poor guy on duty,” Kelsie said.
“VBIED?” I asked.
“Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive Device,” Dave said. “The fucker was killed before he could get on base, but he managed to detonate the bomb and take out the gate and a large portion of the fence. A few of the buildings nearby also sustained damage.”
My heart was pounding wildly even as I told myself that Henry was fine. Still, at least one person had been hurt in the attack “Were there any casualties?”
I looked up at Dave, who was nodding solemnly. “One airman was shot and killed, while another lost his leg to flying debris.”
I covered my mouth and realized that my hand was trembling. It could have just as easily been Henry at the gate that day.
Dave noticed my immediate change in mood and began to rub my back. “Do you want to get some air?” he whispered.
I nodded and tried a polite smile for the rest of the table. “Sorry,
guys. I just need a few moments.”
“You okay?” Kelsie asked.
I swallowed hard, feeling the familiar tightness in my chest. “My brother was killed in Afghanistan,” I said and excused myself before they could ask questions.
Dave accompanied me outside, standing awkwardly by with his hands in his pockets as I paced the sidewalk.
“You should go inside,” I told him, taking deep breaths to calm my nerves. “It’s cold out here.”
He smiled crookedly. “I’m not about to let you stand out here by yourself.” He kicked at a discarded bottle cap on the ground. “I’m sorry about your brother. Jason was a really good guy.”
I nodded. “Yeah, he was.”
“He was so proud of you, you know.”
I looked away, wanting to hide the tears that were threatening to fall. “He talked about me?”
“Yeah, all the time,” Dave said. “Logan too. He’s always talking about you.”
That brought an unexpected smile to my face.
Dave came closer and rubbed my shoulders, a touch that seemed comforting at first, until it went on a little too long. I frowned up at him and opened my mouth to ask what he was doing when he bent down and touched his lips to mine.
I pulled away as if electrocuted. “What—”
Dave held his hands up and took a step back. “I’m sorry.”
“What were you doing?”
“I think I was trying to kiss you.”
“I know that,” I said. “But why?”
“Because I like you?” he said, the end of the sentence lilting up as if he was asking a question.
I paused, wondering if Dave was a slimy jerk or if he was just not aware of the situation. “You do know that Henry and I are together, right?”
His eyes widened, giving me the answer. “Shit. I didn’t know.” He stuck his hands back in his pockets. “Fuck. Sorry. That jackass should have told me.”
I couldn’t have agreed more. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Honest mistake. It’s his fault for not telling anyone.”
“My mistake, really,” Dave said with a wry grin. “I should have asked you out sooner.”
2
HOMECOMING
The emails resumed, but they didn’t sound the same. Gone was the intimacy of his words, replaced by nonchalant, almost robotic descriptions of his life there. I asked about the attack during one phone call but he just evaded the question and suddenly had to go. Since I didn’t want any more abrupt ends to the calls, I never brought it up again.
The third, fourth, and fifth months all blurred together. Keeping busy was not the problem; it was trying to keep my mind from straying back to Afghanistan that was tough. Beth’s tactic of self-distraction was hard to apply when everything around me reminded me of Henry, from his car keys that hung on the hook to his established seat at the dining table.
I read a ton of books, caught up with friends, ran a lot, and probably wasted too much time on the Internet. I spent many hours at the office, trying to lose myself in work to while away the lonely hours of the night.
Then the final month came and, I swear, time slowed. I felt like I was moving in slow motion, that no matter how I distracted myself, I’d look at the clock and find that only a few minutes had elapsed. It was so much worse than the first month.
The anticipation was killing me. He was so close to coming home, yet still thousands of miles away. In preparation, I tidied up his room, vacuumed every nook and cranny of the apartment, and dusted every surface. I filled the fridge with his favorite food and beer, going so far as buying the bottled olives that he loved so much.
Finally, the most special Wednesday of the entire year arrived. I jumped out of bed with extra spring and took an extra long shower, humming to myself about my boyfriend being back, hey la, hey la. I dressed carefully, then drove to base a whole hour before they were scheduled to arrive. They checked my license at the visitor center, handed me a pink slip, and let me drive through the gate with a knowing smile.
I stood at the designated waiting area with the others. Our excitement was a living, breathing thing, so palpable you could almost reach out and touch it. We looked at one another—wives, girlfriends, family, and friends—with unconcealed excitement bursting all over our faces. Some people had created welcome signs; others held balloons and flowers in their hands. I had only the hopeful heart pinned prominently on my sleeve.
Everybody cheered when the bus appeared from around the corner. We cheered when it drove into the parking lot, and we cheered when it pulled up in front of us, but we were deathly silent when the bus hissed to a stop, as if shushing us.
We all held our collective breaths when the door opened, and I swear, it must have taken five minutes for the first person to step down off that bus, but when he did, a woman squealed from somewhere within the crowd. My eyes remained glued to the bus door as airman after airman stepped down. My heart lurched in my chest every time those tan boots came into view; I thought I’d pass out after about the tenth guy who wasn’t Henry.
Then he appeared and, for a few moments, I forgot how to breathe.
Henry stepped from the bus and cast his gaze around. From across the sea of people, our eyes met and his sullen face broke out into a smile that lit up his entire face. I honestly don’t know how I managed to walk toward him when all of my brain cells were currently fried, but I suddenly found myself standing in front of him. He was within touching distance but I suddenly couldn’t figure out what to do with myself.
“Oh, Els.” He bent down and buried his face in my neck, holding me tight for a long, wordless while.
I couldn’t stop the tears if I tried. Feeling him in my arms again felt like surfacing from a deep ocean and finally taking a breath. I pulled away and held his face in my hands, enjoying the sight of him. He was thinner, the skin under his eyes a little darker, but his blue eyes carried the same intensity as before.
“Will you just come here?” he said with a grin and pulled me to him, our lips mashing together in six months worth of pent-up frustration. When we finally pulled away to breathe, he pressed his forehead to mine and said in that husky, gravelly voice, “God, I’ve missed you.” His thumbs wiped away the tears on my cheeks and he kissed me again.
“I missed you too,” I said and hugged him to me.
We walked back to my car hand in hand. He walked around to throw his stuff in the trunk but when I went to open the driver’s door, he was suddenly behind me, boxing me in with his arms. He pressed his erection into my back and whispered against my ear, “I can’t wait to be inside you again.”
I was instantly wet, ready to jump on him then and there, but he was in uniform and we were surrounded by people.
“Get a room,” one airman called as he walked by.
“Shut up, Jackson.” Henry said with a tight smile.
My face flushed as I dodged out from under his arms. “To be continued,” I told him and got into the driver’s seat before I did something I would later regret.
Henry, however, was incorrigible. As soon as we drove off base, his hand landed on my thigh, then slid upward, warming the skin in its wake.
“We’re going to crash, Henry,” I warned.
“That’s okay,” he said, his fingers inching under my skirt, sliding upward ever so slowly. He gasped. “Oh my God, you’re not wearing underwear.”
I chuckled and flushed and throbbed all at the same time. “Surprise.”
“Pull over,” he ordered.
“Where?”
“I don’t care, just take the next exit,” he said, nudging my legs apart. His fingers slipped along my folds before sliding inside me.
I let out a hiss between my teeth when he found that most sensitive spot and began to rub it. The car might have swerved a little.
“Henry,” I said, gripping the steering wheel
so tight my knuckles were turning white. “Not right now.”
“Yes now.”
“Wait till we get home.”
“I’ve waited long enough. Pull over.”
I squeezed my legs together to keep his hands from moving but those damned, delicious fingers kept flicking higher. I tried to remain relaxed to fight off the impending orgasm, but months of deprivation had made me so desperate that my muscles clenched around his fingers of their own accord.
“Do you really want your first time back in a tiny car, on a dirt road?” I asked, finding it hard to catch my breath. It’s a wonder I even managed to keep my foot on the pedal at all. This was dangerous.
“I don’t care. I just want to bury myself inside you.”
I groaned at his words. I was so close.
An exit came into view and I swerved onto it, the last of my resolve completely gone. Half a mile off the highway, I parked in the lot of an abandoned gas station in a heavily wooded area.
As soon as I set the gear into park, Henry grabbed my hips and pulled me up and over the center console. I performed a minor miracle by straddling his large body in the passenger seat of my narrow Prius. His hands roamed everywhere, digging his fingers into my ass cheeks as he ravaged me with kisses. My fingers made swift work of undoing his pants and I gripped his shaft, guiding the tip to my entrance. His hands squeezed my hips, urging me to take him all at once, but I took my time sliding down, relishing the feel of him stretching me once again.
“Elsie,” he whispered against my neck. He groaned when he was all the way in. Henry was home.
He lifted my shirt up and unclasped my bra, burying his face in my breasts. “I love you,” he said through a mouthful of nipple.
I grasped the back of his head and kissed him roughly as I slid up and down on his engorged member. I ground my hips into his and experienced a brand-new sensation that quickly sent me reeling toward the edge. Henry clutched my hips once more and took control, slamming me onto his lap over and over.