The Flawed Heart Series

by Wade, Ellie

  Dad bursts into the kitchen. “I thought I heard a birthday boy in here. Come on, come on,” he says to Mom and me. He grabs our hands and leads out the door and to the backyard.

  I stand in the center of the square of grass that makes up our yard and expectantly look around.

  “I spy with my little eye something that is red,” my dad says, his eyes shining with happiness.

  I turn in a circle in the middle of the small grassy space, but I can’t find anything that’s red.

  “I spy two wheels…twenty-inch wheels,” he clarifies.

  I gasp and frantically search.

  “With six speeds,” he adds.

  “Where is it? Where is it, Dad?” I shout, feeling so happy.

  He nods toward the garage, and I take off running until I’m in the building, standing in front of the coolest bike ever—an awesome, shiny red six-speed mountain bike. It’s like the one that boy down the street has, except way cooler.

  “Thank you!” I shout as I jump into my dad’s arms.

  He lets me down, and I hug my mom.

  “Thank you so much! I love it!”

  I can’t believe they got me the bike. I really wanted it, but I thought it was too expensive. I glance over to the worn green bike leaning against the wall of the garage. It’s the bike I’ve had since I was four. Even though it hasn’t had its training wheels for a long time, it still looks like a baby bike to me. Dad had raised the seat all the way up, but I could barely ride it because it was too small. But, now, I have a big-boy bike, a real bike.

  “Happy birthday, Loïc,” my dad says as he pulls me into another big hug.

  The memory of my seventh birthday plays in my mind. I can’t believe it was one year ago already.

  I wish it were still my seventh birthday. Actually, I wish my parents were here to celebrate my eighth birthday with me.

  I twirl the Happy Birthday pencil that I got from my new teacher between my fingers. If it weren’t for school, I probably wouldn’t have even known it was my birthday. Dwight and Stacey haven’t said anything about it. I’m sure they won’t.

  My mom and dad used to tape streamers and balloons onto the outside frame of my door, so when I woke up on my birthday, I would have to break through them to get out. I loved that.

  I loved everything.

  I haven’t even been here for a whole month yet, but it’s been the worst few weeks of my life. I’m trying to be strong, but truthfully, I hate everything about this place. I hate the smell. I hate the dirt. I hate Dwight.

  And, mostly, I hate that my mom and dad died.

  I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!

  I drop the pencil onto the dingy brown carpet and bury my face in my bent knees. Why did this have to happen to me? It’s not fair! Silent tears soak the knees of my pants. I’m trying to be quiet so that they forget I’m here.

  My back still stings from where Dwight threw me against the wall yesterday. I’m sure it’s bruised, but I don’t have a mirror to look.

  My dad never hurt me. He never even spanked me. I don’t even know why Dwight got so mad at me. I didn’t do anything. I’ve been trying to be extra good, so he won’t be angry. I don’t understand it.

  I can’t figure out why I’m here and not in London with Nan and Granddad. I don’t know who to ask either. When I asked Stacey if I could speak to my grandparents, she just laughed and said that no one was coming for me. It wasn’t a happy laugh but a mean one. I hadn’t realized until then that there was such a thing as a mean laugh. When my parents had laughed, their whole bodies would vibrate with happiness.

  I miss happiness. It’s nonexistent here. Of course, my world is covered in heartache, but even Dwight and Stacey seem to be miserable, like all the time.

  Why do they even want a child?

  I have so many questions and not a single answer. I just don’t understand why any of this is happening. There are people in this world who love me. So, why am I not with them? How do I get to them? How do I get out of here?

  My dad always told me that I was strong and brave, a warrior. That thought, as I’m crouched in a ball on my bedroom floor, makes me cry harder. It’s so hard to be brave when I’m so scared. But I have to be.

  I know that Nan and Granddad are looking for me, and when they find me, we’ll be happy. When they find me, I won’t have to be strong anymore because they’ll take care of me. They’ll love me and keep me safe. So, I just have to be brave for a little bit—until my grandparents come.

  Maybe they’ll be here tomorrow. I can be brave for one more day. I can do anything for one day.

  I let my body fall to the side until my face is lying on the carpet. It has a yucky smell, but it’s soft enough. My eyes close against the grimy brown material. I’m so tired, and my body’s worn out from crying.

  I feel myself drifting off to sleep, and I welcome it. I hope my dreams take me someplace happy. A small smile comes to my face as I look forward to tomorrow. I feel brave and strong.

  Tomorrow, they’ll come.

  Tomorrow, I’ll be happy again.

  Loïc

  “She’s everything that I never had the courage to wish for, but for some reason, I was lucky enough to find her. Now that I’ve found her, I just hope I can keep her.”

  —Loïc Berkeley

  Damn it!

  I bolt up to a sitting position and drag my fingers through my damp hair. I hate how long and unkempt it feels already. Absentmindedly, I drop one of my hands to my beard, which has a good half inch of growth already. In the Special Forces, we are encouraged to let our hair grow so that we’ll blend in on our missions. But let’s face it; there’s no way in hell we are blending in here. Most of the guys love it. It’s an excuse not to shave every day. It annoys me, but honestly, everything does, especially my damn nightmares that are back to being a nightly occurrence.

  I’ve never been more ready for a deployment to be over, and I’m only a month in. There’s this air of unease that follows me around like a suffocating fog. I keep searching, waiting for something to happen, for a ball to drop. It’s exhausting, but I can’t shake the feeling.

  Maybe this is how all guys who leave behind someone they love feel. I’ve never had to deal with the paranoia before because I’ve never left anyone I’ve loved. I trust London. I do. I believe that what we have is real. Yet I’m constantly worried that she’s going to leave me, cheat on me, get bored of waiting. Name it, and I’ve thought of it.

  It’s insane—these irrational thoughts. Yet, at the same time, I’ve watched guys’ marriages fall apart while on deployment, and some of them had been married for years. It makes my seven-month relationship almost laughable. Regardless of the duration, it’s the most meaningful relationship of my life, and I can’t lose it.

  I can’t lose her.

  London isn’t just my end objective; she’s the entire mission. She’s my life from here on out. I never thought I would love someone the way I love her. I could never have imagined needing someone the way I need her. She’s everything I never had the courage to wish for, but for some reason, I was lucky enough to find her. Now that I’ve found her, I just hope I can keep her.

  So, add my fears of losing London to the place of hopelessness and loss that enshrouds me when I wake from a nightmare, and I’m a fucking basket case.

  I’m so tired of dreaming of the scared boy, the pain, the loss, the fear of losing Sarah. I’m so sick of thinking about all of it. I want to move on to a place where I can be happy. London has shown me that true happiness is possible, and I want it—with her.

  It’s maddening that my brain won’t cooperate. I just want to forget it all, except for her.

  Is that too much to ask?

  I quickly throw on my running gear and exit my room. I pound on the door next to mine until a tired Cooper answers.

  “The fuck, dude?” he huffs out.

  “You ready?”

  His eyes drop to my feet before they make their way up to my face, as if his
tired mind is trying to figure out what’s going on. Some clarity lights his eyes. “Why are you up already? We weren’t planning on going running for, like, another hour.”

  He looks back into his dark room, and I know he’s looking at his alarm clock.

  “Like an hour and a half actually,” he grunts.

  “Well, I couldn’t sleep. You coming, or you want me to go without you?”

  “I’m coming.” He runs his hands through his longer hair, which is so thick that it almost stands up straight on its own. “Let me get dressed real quick,” he says before letting the plywood door swing shut in my face.

  A minute later, we’re running through the dark base, the only light coming from the dim streetlights. Cooper doesn’t say anything when I follow our ten-mile route even though today was supposed to be a six-mile run.

  My feet pound against the ground, and I push my body until it screams in pain with each breath, but I don’t stop. Running is the best stress reliever I have access to in this country, and I’m going to take advantage of it.

  We don’t talk the entire time, not that we could anyway.

  When we reach the end of the run, Cooper bends at his waist and lets out a groan as his hands rest on his knees. His chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath. I put my hands behind my head, trying to stretch my lungs so that they can take in air more efficiently.

  Finally, Cooper says, “Did you time us?”

  I shake my head.

  “Damn. I bet we beat our time, too.”

  “Probably,” I agree.

  “Bad night?” he questions.

  “Something like that,” I answer as we start walking toward our rooms.

  After I shower, I power up my laptop, hoping to find London online, but I know that it’s midnight, Michigan time, and a weekday, so she’s probably sleeping.

  Sure enough, she’s not online at the moment. We’ve been able to Skype a few times since I’ve been here, and that’s my favorite. It almost feels like we’re not almost seven thousand miles away from each other.

  I have a new email from her.

  To: Loïc Berkeley

  From: London Wright

  Subject: Question 31

  Hey, babe. It was so fun Skyping with you yesterday. We need to work out times when we can do that more often. It’s the best. I know you said that your schedule changes a lot and you don’t know when you’ll be around the computer, but still…we should try to set up some chat dates—at least when you know you’ll be around.

  Well, to answer question 30, if I had to live without one sense…I’d agree with you that it’d have to be smell. I couldn’t live without seeing, hearing, or touching you. And I really love tasting my food. Although not being able to taste would be a hell of a diet plan—not that I follow a diet plan now, but you know what I mean. So, it’d be smell. Though there would definitely be some scents that I would miss incredibly, number one being the smell of your cologne or body wash or whatever it is that makes you smell so delicious. I’d also miss the smell of spring and the flowers and the smell of food…particularly freshly baked bread or cookies. The smell of those is almost as good as the taste.

  Nothing new is really going on here since my last email. I’m still exhausted from my New Year’s trip to LA with Georgia and Paige. I think I’ve told you already, but I really hope this is the last New Year’s that we’ll spend apart. I don’t want to ever start another New Year without you by my side. In fact, all the stuff that we’re missing as a couple—our birthdays, Christmas, Valentine’s…all the holidays—I hope we never have to celebrate those apart again.

  Although I will say that, hands down, our Skype sex on Christmas was the best gift I’ve ever received. Oh! That just gave me an idea…

  Question 31: What’s the best present you’ve ever gotten? I just told you mine. ;-)

  I have to sign off and finish writing a few articles.

  I love you, babe. I hope you’re safe and happy. Talk to you soon.

  Love,

  London

  I’m relieved after reading London’s email. The tone of it is much more upbeat than it has been for the past few days. I’m so glad that I got to see her face on Skype yesterday. I think that’s all she needed, too. On the days following New Year’s, her emails weren’t the same. I don’t know how to explain it, but there was just something off about them. They were shorter than usual and lacking London’s flair. Even though her words were positive enough, they felt sad, if that makes any sense. This long-distance relationship is no joke. I don’t envy the guys who have had to leave girlfriends and wives for multiple tours.

  I’ve just started typing my reply to London when Cooper walks in, freshly showered, and plops down on my bed.

  “Seriously?” I twist in the chair to face him.

  “Whatever. You’re the one who interrupted my beauty sleep.”

  “So, what? Since we have some extra time now, you’ve come to annoy me?” I quirk up an eyebrow.

  “Basically. Annoy you, talk to you? Same difference lately.” He shrugs, eyeing me with mock annoyance.

  I give him the one-second finger before I turn back to the laptop and quickly finish my email to London.

  To: London Wright

  From: Loïc Berkeley

  Subject: Question 32

  The answer to your question is so simple…it’s you. You are the greatest gift in my life.

  Question 32: If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you want to live? Before, I would have said Michigan. I love the four seasons and all the outside activities available to do in each season. But, now, I would say wherever you are because I’m a lovesick sap, and I miss you like crazy.

  Miss you, baby.

  I love you.

  Love,

  Loïc

  I have an unanswered email from Sarah as well, but I decide to write her another time. I close the laptop and turn the chair so that it faces the bed.

  “Sorry, man. I’ve just been so freaking edgy lately,” I say in response to his comment about him annoying me.

  “I get it. No need to apologize.”

  If anyone gets it, it’s Cooper. He’s put up with my shit more than anyone. He’s seen me much moodier. I mean, this is the guy who had a weeklong one-sided conversation with me when we first met in basic training. Who talks to someone for an entire week, just to be ignored? I know, if the roles were reversed, I would have moved on after he’d ignored my first question…let alone a week of questions.

  “How do you do it?” I ask seriously.

  “What?”

  “Leave Maggie, stay sane…you know, all of it.”

  “It is what it is, man. There’s no sense in driving yourself crazy over it, you know?”

  I let out a halfhearted chuckle. “Easier said than done. How do you not let it drive you crazy?”

  “You just have to focus on what you have control over. You can’t focus on all the stuff you wish you could do because you’ll go insane. So, for example…I wish I could see Maggie today—hug her, kiss her, make love to her—”

  “I get the picture,” I scoff.

  “But I can’t, right? So, I try not to think about that. Instead, I think about what I can do. I can email her. I can reread the emails she’s sent, look at pictures of her—you know, stuff like that. I also make a checklist in my mind of what I’m going to accomplish today. I’ve already checked off a kick-ass run. So, next on my agenda is trying something new for breakfast, learning something new at our brief today, stuff like that.”

  “Trying something new at breakfast?” I almost can’t get the question out without laughing.

  “Dude, it doesn’t have to be monumental. How is the breakfast thing different than counting our steak and lobster dinners?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just being a dick.”

  Cooper continues, “I mean, our to-do lists here are going to be limited. But you have to have things to look forward to, things to try, to do…anything
to keep your mind busy. Sitting around and pining over what you wish you could do would make anyone feel insane.”

  “How do you handle the fear?”

  “Like, the fear of dying?” he questions.

  “For starters, I guess.”

  “I’m not afraid to die, Berk.”

  I skeptically look at him.

  “I’m not.” He chuckles. “Honest. I mean, do I want to die? Of course not. But I’ve always just thought that I’ll die when I’m meant to. If I were meant to die tomorrow, I would die tomorrow whether I was here or not. The manner in which I’d go would vary if I were back home, but the end result would be the same. There’s no sense in worrying about it.”

  “But what about the people you’ll leave behind? I suppose that’s what I’m more worried about.”

  “It would suck for them, no doubt. But they would heal. They would move on. No one is guaranteed tomorrow, Berkeley. You know that better than anyone. But what I think you haven’t grasped is that you have no control over it. It’s going to be the way it’s going to be—good or bad. You just have to make the best out of it. If I die, you’d better not spend a second being sad, questioning it, or playing the what-if game. You got it?”

  “Same goes for if I die,” I respond.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t fret one bit.” His face looks smug.

  “You’re a dick.”

  He laughs. “You know I love ya, man.”

  “What about the fear of Maggie leaving you?”

  “I don’t worry about it. It follows the same general principle. Maggie’s not going to leave me, and if she does, she would have anyway. Nothing I can do about it.”

  “That’s kind of depressing.”

  “No,” he disagrees. “It’s actually the opposite. It’s more freeing than anything. When you get that all the worrying isn’t going to change the end result, you can let it all go. When you realize that you have little control over the outcome of your life, you can stop spending so much energy trying to control it…and just live it.”

  I’m quiet for a moment, pondering over what Cooper said. “You know my entire existence is focused on control, right?”