[Conduct Unbecoming 01.0] Conduct Unbecoming

by LA Witt

  Sighing, I wondered why I’d even bothered. I couldn’t imagine she wanted to talk to me. Some exes had a wall of ice between them, but Katie and I were on opposite sides of a damned glacier. It was bad enough having such a rift between me and someone I used to love, but my kids were on the other side with her. It had hurt to lose my connection with my first wife when we bitterly went our separate ways, but at least we were able to walk away and be done with it. Katie and I had no choice but to be part of each other’s lives. It was like being handcuffed to someone when all I wanted to do was get the fuck away from her.

  The fact was, the only way I’d ever have a relationship with my kids was to find a way to mend fences with her.

  Obviously, that wasn’t happening today, though. Exhaling hard, I minimized the IM window and opened up my browser again to screw off for a little while.

  Then my e-mail pinged. I flipped to my in-box, and my heart skipped.

  Katie Connelly has accepted your add request.

  I maximized the IM window again, and sure enough, her name showed under Available Contacts. Ignoring my nerves, I sent a video chat request.

  Waiting for K_Connelly to respond…

  I chewed the inside of my cheek, wondering if this was a mistake.

  Connecting…

  My heart beat faster.

  The video window popped up.

  Initializing video connection…

  And all at once, she was there. The picture was grainy, but it was definitely her. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders, and her ever-present red coffee cup was in her hand. She didn’t have her makeup on yet, since it was still early, but I always thought she was prettier without it anyway. This was how she looked in the morning, and I hadn’t seen her like this in…in far too long. Since the days when she could turn me on with an e-mail and I’d never heard her tell me she had someone else to e-mail like that.

  God, Katie, how did we get here?

  “Hey,” I said with a nervous smile.

  “Hey.” Katie smiled back, though it didn’t extend beyond her lips, and her tone was guarded. “The… um… the kids aren’t up yet, so if—”

  “Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

  She blinked. “Oh.” Her posture stiffened, and, though it was hard to tell with the digitized image, I thought a hint of fear flickered across her face. She gulped and set her jaw like she was steeling herself. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. I mean, I…” I paused, trying to find the words, and I couldn’t help noticing she’d relaxed a little. With a pang of guilt, I realized her expression a moment ago had been the same one she’d had when I broke the news to her that I was going to Iraq for the second time. I took a breath. “Listen, I think we need to put our past behind us.”

  She narrowed her eyes a little. “Why now?”

  “You and I can barely have a conversation and I…” I exhaled hard. “Look, I barely know the kids. And the longer we keep a wall between you and me, the longer we’ll be keeping a wall between me and the kids.”

  “I have never kept them from you,” she snapped.

  I put up a hand and shook my head. “No, you haven’t. It’s both of us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We don’t get along,” I said. “Which puts them in a bad position anyway, but it also makes it harder for me to get in touch with them. You don’t want to talk to me, I don’t want to talk to you, and the end result is that I don’t get to talk to the kids.” I swallowed hard. “You’re my only connection to them, Katie. And for that matter, this has gone on long enough, don’t you think?”

  “You’re the one who refuses to let it go,” she said coldly.

  I avoided her eyes. She had a point. Nodding, I said, “You’re right. Maybe we need to talk this through, then. Put it behind us.”

  “What is there to talk about?” she asked. “If you want to talk to the kids more, fine. But, really, what is there for us to talk about? It’s over, Shane. We’re done.”

  “I know it is. I’m not suggesting we get back together or anything like that. Just, you know, maybe find some middle ground? Be civil?”

  She looked away but said nothing.

  “I’d suggest getting counseling like we should have back then,” I said. “But from here, this is all we have.” I chewed my lip. Then, struggling to keep my voice even, I went on. “There’s something I want to know. And you don’t have to answer, but I hope you will.”

  She faced me again, raising her eyebrows, but still didn’t speak.

  I hesitated, then finally said, probably just loud enough for the microphone to pick it up, “Why did you do it?”

  Katie flinched. “Shane…”

  “You don’t have to answer,” I repeated softly. “I’m just…it’s been eating at me for the last four years.” I chewed the inside of my cheek. “I mean, was it something I did? Did you—”

  “No,” she said quickly. “No, it—well, I guess in a way, but it”—she released a sharp, frustrated breath—“it wasn’t your fault.”

  I furrowed my brow and inclined my head, silently asking her to continue.

  She didn’t speak for a long moment, eyes closed and hands folded in front of her lips. Finally, she said, “Do you really want to know?”

  I forced my voice to stay steady. “Yes.”

  She set her shoulders back, and I half expected a defensive expression and a hard edge to her voice. But then her shoulders dropped. A second later, so did her gaze. And finally, she spoke.

  “When you were just at sea, it wasn’t as bad. It was a separation, and it wasn’t fun, but I knew going into this that you’d be gone sometimes.” She bit her lip. “But when you went to Iraq, I was so scared, and after a while, I resented you for putting me through it. I know, I know, it’s selfish, but…” She trailed off, shaking her head and looking at something off-camera before she turned to me again. “God, Shane, I never thought you’d be gone for an entire year, and knowing you were getting shot at instead of just being on a ship, I was scared to death. And then when you went over there the second time…”

  I forced back the lump that tried to rise in my throat. “Tell me.”

  She brushed a strand of hair out of her face with a trembling hand. When she spoke again, her voice shook, and she spoke quickly, like she couldn’t stop now that she’d started. “I just, I hated you for it. I was basically a single mom, and I was always terrified someone was going to call and tell me I was a widow.” She wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. “I jumped every time the phone rang. I can’t tell you how many times I almost had a panic attack just watching the news. And the kids, God, the kids. They kept asking when you’d be home, and I wanted to tell them you’d be home soon, but I was afraid you wouldn’t, and then they’d never forgive me for lying to them about you. I guess I just needed someone who was here and who wasn’t…” She bit her lip.

  “Who wasn’t, what?”

  She batted an unseen tear from her cheek. “During both years you were over there, I had nightmares every night. About going to the base to pick you up when you came home, but when you were supposed to step off the plane, they brought—” Her voice cracked, and she covered her mouth with shaking fingers. Then she took a breath and whispered, “They brought out a casket with a flag over it instead.”

  I winced.

  Katie went on. “And then I started hearing about guys doing third and even fourth tours, and I was hanging by a thread just trying to get through the second. I know it sounds so wrong and selfish, but I resented you, and I hated you, and I just needed someone I didn’t have dreams about losing.”

  My heart dropped. “My God, why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “What difference would it have made?” A hint of bitterness crept into her wavering voice. “You were over there. What the hell could you have done?”

  I shifted my gaze away from her. There were few things in this world I hated more than that helpless feeli
ng of being thousands of miles away when someone needed me. And in Iraq, there wouldn’t have been anything I could have done for her, especially if the very fact that I was over there was the problem.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, that was out of line.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” A lump rose in my throat, but I forced it back. “I am so sorry, Katie.”

  “You don’t need to be. I’m the one who cheated.” She chewed her lip and dropped her gaze. After a long moment, she looked at me again. “I’m sorry, Shane. For…everything that happened. I never set out to hurt you, I just…” She looked away and made a sharp, frustrated gesture.

  “I know you didn’t, honey,” I said softly. “And I’m sorry I put you through that.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “We both knew what the military life meant.”

  “I don’t think either of us thought I’d ever be gone for a year for a combat deployment, never mind two of them.” My voice threatened to crack, but I managed to add, “It was hell for me too.”

  “I know it was, which is why I feel even worse for what I did.” From thousands of miles away, she met my eyes. “You were a good husband, Shane, and you deserved better than what I did to you.”

  “You deserved better than a life that gave you nightmares,” I said. “Neither of us signed up for that.”

  “No.” She dropped her gaze and sniffed sharply. “But I signed up to be a military wife. I knew that was a possibility, and I…” She wiped her eyes again and looked at me. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” I said. “We should’ve sat down and talked about this a long time ago.”

  “Do you think it would have changed anything?”

  “Do you mean, would we have stayed together?”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe, maybe not. But if nothing else, I think we could have walked away on better terms. The kids deserved better than what we gave them, and quite frankly, so did we.”

  “Yeah,” she said so softly I barely heard her.

  “We can’t change any of that now,” I said. “But if I try to do things differently in the future, can you meet me halfway?”

  Katie dropped her gaze but nodded. “I can do that. And, the kids…” Her eyes met mine again. “How often do you want to talk to them?”

  “As often as I can.” I shrugged. “With the time differences and our work schedules, it probably won’t be more than a couple times a week. Just, you know, if you see me online, you can always ping me.”

  “Okay.” She released a breath. “Okay, yeah, I can do that. And maybe…” She folded her arms on the desk and shifted her weight. “Maybe they can come see you.”

  I grimaced. “They’re awfully young to be flying that far on their own.”

  “Well…” She hesitated. “I could fly part of the way with them, and then you can meet me halfway. Seattle, or Tokyo, or wherever you usually change planes.”

  “You…wouldn’t mind flying that far with them?”

  Katie chewed her lip. “I might need a little help for the plane ticket, but I think they need to spend more time with you, so…” She trailed off again and shrugged.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  She looked at something off-camera, and when she turned to me again, she said, “Sounds like the kids are getting up. You want me to go tell them you’re on the line?”

  I sat up. “Would you?”

  She smiled. “Give me a minute. I’ll go get them.”

  “Thanks, Katie.”

  “You’re welcome.” With that, she got up and stepped out of the frame.

  While she went to get the kids, I leaned back against the couch cushions and looked up at the ceiling. A tremendous weight had pressed down on my shoulders since the day I found out she was cheating, and it slid off now. Sure, there were feelings that wouldn’t disappear overnight, but the grudge had been the worst of it. The grudge, and that question that had been eating at me since I’d learned about the affair: Why?

  Guilt tugged at my gut. I’d been so angry and hurt that she’d cheated, I’d never considered the reasons she’d just given. I’d worried incessantly about her and the kids every day I spent in that godforsaken sandpit, but I never imagined the fear and loneliness would drive her into another man’s arms. Her reasons didn’t make it right, but I…I understood.

  I stared at the screen where she’d looked back at me a moment ago. After all this time, after seeing her face-to-face like this, I didn’t see her as the bitch who’d cheated on me. Oh, I’d had no shortage of angry names for her. Whore, mostly. But now I couldn’t look at her that way. When I’d looked at her on my computer screen, I hadn’t seen my cheating whore of an ex-wife. She was just…Katie. She was human. Deployments weren’t easy for anyone. Combat deployments were hell. Who was I to judge her if she’d buckled?

  Nothing could ever take us back to what we were before I left on that deployment. We’d both moved on now. Our marriage was over. Contacting her tonight, I’d hoped to bury the hatchet enough to function as parents, but now I had an inkling of hope that maybe we could do better than just gritting our teeth and tolerating each other.

  Movement on the screen caught my eye, and I couldn’t help grinning as my kids vied for space on the desk chair.

  “Hey, Dad,” Jason said. “What time is it there?”

  I chuckled. The kids were fascinated with the time differences. “It’s”—I made an exaggerated gesture of looking at my watch—“well past your bedtime.”

  Jessica laughed, revealing two gaps. “Is it tomorrow there?”

  “Not quite,” I said. “Couple more hours. And when did you lose two more teeth, missy?”

  She leaned forward to show off the missing teeth and edge her brother farther out of the frame. As they fought for screen time and she told me all about how she’d lost her tooth at recess last week, I just smiled.

  Maybe there was hope for this family yet.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Eric

  On Wednesday afternoon, I took Marie into Naha to visit Kokusai Street.

  Shane didn’t join us this time. He had to work anyway, but from what I’d heard, this was one of the few places off base that Americans actually visited. We didn’t dare show our faces together in a place like this, so he’d catch up with us at my place for dinner tonight.

  According to Shane, Kokusai was touristy as all hell but a great place to buy souvenirs, not to mention local produce. As much as he avoided all the places where Americans gathered, even he liked the food and atmosphere that Kokusai offered, so he encouraged me to take my daughter to check it out.

  And here we were.

  Kokusai Street was an odd blend of the Japan with which I was familiar and a casual, touristy atmosphere. The sidewalks were teeming with people, but it wasn’t shoulder to shoulder like Tokyo or dangerously, rudely crowded like New York. Some people strolled; some people walked like they had somewhere to be.

  I’d heard Kokusai Street was home to numerous street festivals and a busy nightlife, and even on a lazy afternoon like this, it had the relaxed but upbeat atmosphere that must really come alive when the sun went down or a festival rolled through. A blend of traditional Okinawan music, Japanese pop and American pop came from speakers in shops and restaurants, adding an ever-changing background to the sounds of cars and voices. People wore flip-flops and sunglasses, drank from coconuts and ate chunks of pineapple off bamboo skewers. Palm trees spaced a few feet apart along the sidewalk offered a little bit of shade here and there from the blazing tropical sun.

  We were in the heart of Naha, the closest thing the island had to a bustling metropolis, but Okinawa had virtually no pollution, so aside from the exhaust of the occasional passing car, the air was clean and fresh. Instead of smog and garbage, Kokusai Street smelled like curry, coffee, steak and garlic.

  Colorful banners flapped in the warm wind, and dozens of colorful signs—mostly in kanji, some in En
glish—lined the various buildings, most of which weren’t more than three or four stories high. It was daytime, so there weren’t a lot of neon lights or brightly lit displays, but I didn’t imagine this place ever aspired to produce the flickering sensory overload of Tokyo or Hong Kong. It wasn’t necessarily more subdued than places like that, but considerably less electrified.

  “Didn’t you tell me Okinawa was a total dump?” Marie threw me a look, then made an emphatic gesture at our surroundings.

  “That’s what I was told. Completely Americanized too.”

  Marie looked at a sign outside one of the shops. It was nothing but kanji and a few cartoon images. “All Americanized. Right. Okay.”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  Most of the shops definitely catered to tourists. I couldn’t begin to count the number of T-shirts, key chains, stickers, stuffed animals and whatever else someone thought to put Okinawa-themed slogans on. Then there were the more specialized things, like Okinawan shortbread cookies and these weird purple cookies made from beni imo, a bright-purple sweet potato that grew here.

  Every possible size and style of Shi Shi dog imaginable could be found here, from ceramic to terra cotta to carved jade. Some were hand-glazed in the traditional style; others were molded plastic painted in bright colors or shaped into silly poses.

  And, of course, almost every store sold Habu sake, that lovely amber liquor that came in a huge jar with an openmouthed snake coiled at the bottom.

  “Oh my God.” Marie stared at a display of Habu sake. “Is that…is that a snake?”

  “Sure is,” I said. “It’s Habu sake.”

  “Sake?” Her eyebrows shot up above the frames of her oversized sunglasses. “You mean people drink that?”

  “Sure,” I said, trying not to smirk. “Just like tequila with a worm in it.”

  “Tell me they don’t actually eat the snake.”

  “God, I hope not.” I chuckled. “No, it’s supposed to add some sort of medicinal properties to the sake, but you don’t actually eat it.”