A Lover's Lament
Page 21
Bile rushes up my throat. Scrambling from the floor, I run to the trashcan. A burning sensation rips through my stomach as I expel all of its contents.
Mom sweeps my hair out of my face, securing it in a band. Seconds later, a cool, wet cloth is pressed against the back of my neck. With each surge of my stomach, I bawl, breaking down bit by bit until there’s nothing left. Only then do I allow myself to drift toward the dark tunnel of the place I was before … the empty hole I buried myself in after Daddy’s death.
How could I put myself through this again? How could I care for a man that could so easily be torn away from me? I knew Devin was a soldier and I knew the risks that went along with that, yet I still allowed myself to fall for him … care for him … love him. Another rush of bile crawls up my throat, but this time I’m able to swallow past it.
“Come on.” Wrapping one arm around my back, my mom guides me gently to my room, tucks me in bed and then climbs in next to me. I snuggle against her side, and she kisses the top of my head and then whispers, “Devin, huh?”
My eyes snap up. Mama is watching me, but instead of looking upset or confused, she looks curious. I told her that Wyatt and I broke things off, but I never did tell her about Devin … not even that we’re talking again after all this time. I decide she needs an update.
So I tell her about the pen pal program, and we talk about Devin and what he’s been through, and how he’s managed to break through my walls and steal a piece of my heart. She smiles when I relive the moment I read his first letter to me and how his words were a punch to my solar plexus, then she laughs when I tell her about the way he made fun of me trying to run. My eyes drift shut as I describe hearing his voice for the first time in so long, and the way it literally made my heart flop around in my chest. When I open my eyes, I see that she has tears building in hers.
“So what do we do now?” She said we. Air rushes from my lungs. Tilting her head to get a better look at my face, she smiles. “How do we find out if Devin is okay?”
“I, uh …” Scanning through every letter, email and conversation in my head, I try to think of anything to help me out, but I come up empty. “I have no idea. I don’t even know where to start. There is a number on my phone, one that pops up when he calls, but I don’t know if I’m allowed to call it—or even if I should. Not after what I heard on the phone.” I don’t know the fucking rules or procedures or anything, and it’s driving me insane. Rubbing a hand over my face, I thread my fingers into my hair, gripping it at the roots. What do I do?
“I wish I had some answers for you, sweetie, but I don’t.” Mama sighs, readjusting herself on my pillows. “Devin always was a smart young man, and I’m sure he could tell how scared you were on the phone.” I nod, remembering his words and the way he was trying to comfort and reassure me when all hell was obviously breaking loose around him. “I’m sure that, whenever he can, he’ll find a way to reach out to you.”
“I know.” Biting my lip, I suck it into my mouth. “But that doesn’t help me now. I’m scared for him. I want to know that he’s okay.”
“I know, honey.”
“He’s more than my friend,” I whisper, tucking my head under her chin. “I know it sounds silly, but I feel like I’m right back where I was when I was eighteen. It’s like nothing has changed. My feelings haven’t wavered, and if anything, they’ve only grown stronger. He feels it too,” I add, just in case she’s wondering if the feeling is mutual. Under thick lashes, I peek up at my mom to find her smiling. “It’s sort of scary because it’s not like I forgot that he left me, Mama. And I do believe him when he says he’ll never leave me again. But what if this time he doesn’t have a choice?”
Sayings these things out loud, telling someone else all of the feelings that I have for Devin, is freeing in a way I never expected. It’s almost as if, after he left all those years ago, I balled up everything inside, tucked it all away and never talked about it again. “Do I sound crazy?”
“Not crazy,” she whispers.
“I never felt for Wyatt what I feel for Devin, and it’s terrifying because I haven’t even seen him in ten years.”
“Love doesn’t have an expiration date, Katie. There is no cookie cutter for it, and there sure as hell aren’t instructions. It just is. Who says you can’t fall in love with someone who’s already broken your heart? Who says you can’t move on and then fall in love all over again from thousands of miles away via letters and emails? That’s the great thing about love … it finds you. And when it’s true love, it doesn’t go away, and you just know. You don’t have to wonder or guess, because it just … is.”
“That’s exactly how I feel.” A sense of peace blankets me, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “How did you get so smart?”
Mama laughs. “It’s a mother thing. You’ll understand one of these days.”
“I love you. You know that, right? I know I was a pain after Daddy … after Daddy died, and I know I said some things and did some things—”
“You’ve already apologized. No more.” Kissing my head, she slides from the bed and I sit up, wishing she would stay. There is just something about being wrapped in your mother’s arms. For a few moments, I was a kid again, and her words and soothing touch had the ability to make everything better. “We all grieve in our own way, on our own schedule. I knew you’d get through it, you just needed time.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home. I need to take care of the horses.”
“No.” Flinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I stand up. “I’ll do it. I told you I’d take care of them.”
Mama cups my face in her hands. “Not today.” Her words may be simple, but they’re firm, leaving no room for discussion. “You need to be here. I know you’re worried, but try to stay positive and strong until you hear something.”
That’s easier said than done. “Okay, Mama. Thank you.”
Following her through the house, I give her one last kiss before watching her walk out the front door. She shuts it gently behind her and I’m left standing in my living room. Everything is quiet and I feel lost, so I do the only thing I can do … I communicate with Devin the one way I know how in this moment.
To: Sergeant Devin U. Clay
From: Katie Devora
Subject:
Devin,
I left the subject line empty because I simply didn’t know what to put. I’m scared. No, scared probably isn’t a strong enough word. I’m terrified. I have no idea what happened today … sure, I can take a few guesses, but what I know for certain is that you were torn away from me, your words cut off, and in a split second, you were gone. And right now I just really need to know that you’re okay. Actually, you have to be okay because there are still so many plans we need to make and things that I need to tell you.
My mom came over after our phone call. I needed someone to be with me because I felt like I was falling apart. I told her all about how we became reacquainted, and I half expected her to go all Mama Bear because of the way things ended between us. But she didn’t. She stepped up to the plate and took care of me, just like I needed her to do.
Okay, so I’m going to go about my day, cleaning the house and doing laundry, but don’t think for a second that you aren’t consuming every single spot in my head. Because you are, and that won’t change until I hear back from you—and I will hear back from you. Please call me as soon as you can.
Love,
Katie
It’s been twenty-four hours since I heard Devin’s voice. Twenty-four hours of waiting, worrying and pacing … and I have been doing a lot of pacing. And where there is pacing, there is thinking, and right now, I’m thinking about all of the things I may never get to say to Devin.
To: Sergeant Devin U. Clay
From: Katie Devora
Subject: I want you
Devin,
I had a dream last night that we were on the phone. You were laughing at something I said and there was a loud ban
g. It was a weird dream, because even though you were on the phone, I could see you. I watched you get thrown across the room and you were lying there, writhing in pain, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. I was screaming, desperately beating at the invisible wall keeping me from getting to you, but it wasn’t doing any good. I was frantic to get to you, but I couldn’t.
That was it … I woke up in a cold sweat and then realized it wasn’t a dream. I realized that it was real, only in reality, I don’t know if you’re okay. I don’t know if you’re lying somewhere, hurt … or dead. I’ve decided that I don’t like the unknown … it leaves too much room for my mind to wander, and my mind doesn’t usually wander in the right direction.
I have to work today. I’m not sure if working will be a good thing or a bad thing. You’re still consuming every inch of space in my head … and my heart. I forgot to tell you that the last time we spoke, but it’s true.
Love,
Katie
Clasping my hands together, my gaze flits around the room, avoiding the computer sitting right in front of me. My stomach rumbles, but I don’t dare put anything in it, not with the amount of throwing up that I’ve been doing.
Thoughts of Devin fill every second of every day. Yesterday after work, I broke down and began searching the Internet for any information that I could find. I had no idea what to search for, so I started combing through headlines on the Internet, hoping to see something—anything—that might give me some sort of peace … some sort of comfort in the hell I’ve been living. I found nothing.
Gritting my teeth, I try to fight the tremble in my chin, but it’s a lost cause. My throat burns, constricting with emotion, as tears fall from my face. Wiping the tears away is pointless—I gave up on that a long time ago.
To: Sergeant Devin U. Clay
From: Katie Devora
Subject: I want us
It’s been forty-nine hours, twenty-two minutes and fourteen seconds since I’ve heard from you. I’ve checked my email hundreds of times, hoping to see a reply, and each time I come up empty, a little piece of me breaks away. My phone has become a permanent fixture in my hand because I keep waiting for you to call.
I miss you. How did that happen in such a short amount of time? I miss seeing your name in my inbox … I miss reading your words, and with each passing second, I’m convinced that I may never see them again. I need to see them, Devin. You’ve always been a part of me, but this is still new and I’m not done exploring. I’m certainly not ready to let go.
I’m still holding on to hope.
Love,
Katie
“Hi, honey.”
“Hi, Mom.” It’s the third time she’s called today. I canceled my appointment with Dr. Perry, and I haven’t shown up to take care of Mac, Molly, and Toby all week. I would never leave her to do it, so I’ve hired out extra help on top of the kid I’ve already got going there. She’s worried … she should be. I can feel myself slipping, giving up hope with each passing second. I can see myself going down the road I’ve recently traveled … the one where I shut down because being numb is so much easier than feeling the pain.
“I’m making lasagna for dinner. Would you like to come over?”
“Nah. Thank you, though,” I answer. “I made a pizza a little while ago.” Closing my eyes, I cringe. Lying to her is not the grown-up thing to do, but I hate to make her worry, and right now, I just need to be alone.
“How about breakfast in the morning? I can make your favorite.”
“I have to work.”
“Don’t do this, Katie,” she pleads.
“Don’t do what?” I hiss. “What am I supposed to do? Should I just pretend that he didn’t exist, pretend that something horrible didn’t happen—”
“I know it looks bad—”
“Looks bad?” I scoff, pressing my thumbs into my temples because, damn it, I do not want to cry right now. “It doesn’t look bad, Mom, it is bad. I’ve done everything I can do, and I keep coming up empty-handed. I’ve contacted every military facility I can find, but nobody knows anything, or they just don’t want to tell me. So either something terrible has happened, or …” My words, along with my thoughts, trail off.
“Katie, I don’t want you to be alone right now.”
“I have to go, Mom.” Ending the call, I power my phone down, lock my door, grab my laptop and crawl into bed.
To: Sergeant Devin U. Clay
From: Katie Devora
Subject: What do you say?
Devin,
My mind is fucking with me something fierce. I’ve considered the fact that maybe I’ve been duped … maybe you’re not responding to my emails or calling because this was all some sort of joke or game and I’ve been played. But then I read the letters you’ve sent me and I know that couldn’t be it. Then I get mad at myself for even thinking it, because you promised you wouldn’t hurt me again. And I do believe you.
Last night I cried myself to sleep because this pain that has settled in the center of my chest is becoming too much to bear, and each day it hurts just a little bit more. I had another dream about you, only this time you weren’t hurt and it had nothing to do with our last phone call. In fact, you were here with me. We were in bed. My head was resting over your heart. Your left arm was wrapped around my shoulder, your finger drawing circles over my bare arm. It was perfect. We were happy and didn’t have a care in the world. And then I woke up and realized that I may never get to feel your skin against mine again, and that thought alone nearly brought me to my knees.
I want that, Devin. I want to see you. I want to feel your lips brush mine, to feel our fingers link the way they used to. But at the same time, I want to start over because we’re two different people than we were back then. I want the firsts all over again with the man that you’ve become. I want the first date, the first awkward kiss—because there always is one (remember ours?)—the first non-awkward kiss, the first everything. I want to snuggle up next to you and fall asleep to the beat of your heart. I want to be woken up in the middle of the night by your touch … the list goes on and on, but basically, I want it all.
More than that, right now, I just want to hear from you. If I can’t feel you, I want to hear your voice.
Love,
Katie
“Fighting My Way Back” – After Midnight Project
FIVE FUCKING DAYS I’VE BEEN stuck inside this building with the entire company up my fucking ass. We stand all day, one beside the other, in the hallways, one hundred soldiers deep, with nothing to do but let our thoughts run wild and nothing more than what we were able to carry in both arms.
A lucky enemy mortar round hit our ammunition point, which led to secondary explosions best saved for the Fourth of July—and for way fucking further away than two hundred feet. Our own artillery shells and tracer rounds burst under the heat of the flames, arching aimlessly in a blaze across the sky.
Disregarding our own safety, we watched the show outside for a little while as the shells erupted into beautiful reds, oranges, and yellows. Eventually, we were called inside by leadership, who, by the way, have been staying in their own buildings and in their own rooms. So while we’re left here like homeless under an overpass, the pricks have been sleeping comfortably in their cots.
Not that there’s been much sleep to be had. From behind these walls, it’s sounded like the entire compound was in the middle of Armageddon. Two days ago the explosions stopped, and since then, explosive ordnance disposal teams from the Green Zone have picked through spent rounds, carefully loading those that failed to detonate onto trucks to be taken to the middle of nowhere and manually blown up. God knows what shape the compound is in right now.
As for headquarters, there wasn’t any significant damage and no one was injured, thankfully. Some asshole in 3rd Platoon claimed he was hit with shrapnel, but it ended up only being some shards of glass from a broken window. What he really meant to say was that he’s being a bitch and wants to go home.
No phone.
No Internet.
No Katie.
I’m lying beside Navas in the middle of the hallway with the rest of the platoon sprawled out around us, and it feels like these walls are beginning to close in around me. I haven’t really spoken to anyone in a while. I’m sick of talking and sick of pretending we aren’t stuck inside this hellhole.
A blanket is tucked under each armpit and my head sits snugly against a pillow as I stare at the same Sports Illustrated I’ve read a thousand times before. All I can think about is Katie and what’s running through her mind during all of this. I know she heard that last explosion, because I could hear her talking right before it hit. Her last words float around my head … Devin, I’m scared.
No one has cared about me—not since her—and I’ve never had anyone anxiously waiting for my return. But she does, and hopefully she is. In the meantime, it breaks my fucking heart that she might think I’m dead, just another person to leave her behind.
God, if I could only call—if I could just hear her voice—everything would be okay. The magazine falls from my hands. My temples throb with each flicker of the fluorescent light, and I pin my eyes on the communications center just a few steps away. Knowing I can’t get in there annoys the hell out of me.