Like a Good Wife (Oahu Naval Officers Book 2)

by Drea Braddock

  “So, um, how do you see November going down?”

  “November? Like for the holidays?”

  “Well, no. Like after November 8th.”

  I’m not really following the direction of the conversation, but I look at her and it’s clear she thinks I should be. That makes me more confused. “Uh…” my brain is scrambling, trying to figure out what she wants me to say.

  Hurt flashes across her eyes and she sucks in a deep breath, bracing herself against the countertop before she continues.

  “Are we going to get divorced, but still hang out with Ka‘eo and Norah together? Will I need to stop being friends with them? Will we still be friends? How are you envisioning life after November 8th?” Her cheeks are flushed and she’s gripping the edge of the countertop hard enough to make her fingertips white.

  I drop the knife, suddenly nauseous. She wants to know my plans for after we break up? I swallow hard, trying to find some equilibrium. “You, uh, you want to get divorced, but still be friends?” I can’t even wrap my brain around that. I thought things were going really well. We hadn’t talked about it, but I certainly wasn’t imagining us being together, like we have been, another half a year and then walking away. I hadn’t considered it ending at all. I love her. I’ve loved her since the first time I saw her.

  “Well, I don’t want to not be friends.” Her voice rises on the last word, and she bites her lip, looking like she’s trying not to cry. “You’re my best friend, Ames.”

  Fuck. I’m her best friend. And she wants to stay friends. Talk about misreading things.

  Did my love for her blind me to her lack of feelings for me?

  How did we get here?

  What is happening?

  I grab her, dragging her to my chest and crushing her in a hug. She wraps her arms around me, and I breathe in her sweet scent, feeling the familiar lines of her body.

  She’s mine.

  At least, I thought she was mine.

  But apparently, she doesn’t want this.

  She pushes me away, hard, swiping at her face. “You can’t do that,” she sniffs angrily.

  “I can’t touch you?”

  “You can’t hold me like that while we’re talking about getting divorced. It’s not kind.”

  “I’m not trying to hurt you, Nalani! I’d never want to hurt you!” I’m yelling at her, and I can’t control my voice. It keeps rising in time with my plummeting heart.

  “Well you are, Ames! You are hurting me! This hurts too much. I don’t think I can do this anymore. Why wait to get divorced in six months? Let’s cut to the chase, do it now.”

  “Wait? You want out now?” My voice shakes along with my hands, matching vibrations. I never realized heartbreak had its own frequency.

  “Might as well! Why prolong the inevitable?”

  I don’t know what to say. I legitimately have no words. I feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. My stomach clenches like I’m going to be sick.

  She bites her lip again, hard enough that I’m afraid she’s going to draw blood. “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to talk to the doctors about the double mastectomy, while I still have insurance. That is why we did this, isn’t it?”

  I nod numbly. I try to talk but can’t find my voice. All the moisture seems to have evaporated from my mouth. I clear my throat and try again. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Do? I’m going to make an appointment. I think I can handle that without help.”

  My eyes are stinging and I’m finding it hard to breath. “No. Um. We were making dinner. Then bed. Do you still want me here? Or should I leave?”

  “Oh.” She freezes. What did she think the outcome of this conversation was going to be when she started it? Did she not think about what would come next? “I…uh…” I can see the wheels in her brain spinning, spiraling out. She’s going to panic and shut down. She’s been so rundown lately; I can’t bring her fog back too. Shit. I’m only making this worse.

  “I’ll go,” I say softly. I can’t possibly keep sleeping next to her, knowing how she feels. This already hurts too much. I pack a bag, feeling like I’m moving through heavy water. I thought, after the phone call last night, I was going to be sharing good news with her tonight and instead my whole world is falling apart. I want to kiss her, to at least say a real goodbye somehow, but everything feels wrong. I start to reach for her and drop my arm. “Lani, Darlin'…” I choke on the word and turn my back to her, rushing out the door.

  I start driving, but don’t even know where I’m going. I think about heading to K and Norah’s. I could use a friendly face, a listening ear, a couch to crash on…but everything is too raw. I don’t want to talk about it yet. And they have a studio like us. Like Nalani does, not us. I couldn’t do that to them. I end up going to the ship, crashing in my rack, and begging sleep to take me before I can feel anything more.

  45

  Nalani

  Oh fuck, what happened? I don’t know if Ames was saying he didn’t love me or if he genuinely didn’t know what we were talking about. It was like he forgot our anniversary, and that surprised me and hurt. A lot. Then I blurted everything out in the worst way possible. Like, I could not have handled that more badly if I was trying to screw everything up on purpose. That was the exact opposite of what I was supposed to do! But…he didn’t disagree. He yelled and I started to shut down the more heated he got. I’m not even sure what all was said. I do know, without a doubt, that he did not ever say he had any feelings for me. If he had, things would have turned out much differently. And then he didn’t fight for me, for us. At all. He gave up. He walked away. He packed a bag and left. Oh God, I didn’t even know that when he held me, when we made love, when he kissed me hello after work, that it would be the last time. He’s not mine. He never was.

  I break down at that thought — big, ugly, loud sobs that wrack my body and knock the air right out of me. I cry until I can’t breathe out of my nose, until my throat is raw, and my eyes are swollen. I drop to the hard floor, body curling up on itself like the dried husk of a bug that I feel like. My only comfort is knowing that, as much as this hurts, it would have been even worse in November. It’s not much comfort actually. It fucking sucks.

  Eventually I hobble up from the floor, grab my laptop, and log in, scheduling the appointment for my cancer screening before I forget. Might as well get it out of the way this year and then, when the results are in, I can speak to the doctor about the preventative double mastectomy. I know, no matter how things went down tonight, Ames would never begrudge me medical care. When I put the laptop up, I see a note with Ames’ tidy handwriting, detailing things he intended to ask the doctor. That stupid fucking note gets me, it’s weight settling like a giant monk seal on my chest.

  I love him.

  What have I done?

  I love his meticulous planning and how he uses it to take care of me. I love his weird sense of humor. I love how considerate he is and how patient he is with me. I love how he doesn’t push me to be someone else, but he helps me be the best version of myself I can be. I love him, and I lost him. No, worse. I love him and I pushed him away. Sobbing, I drag myself into the shower, then into bed. It smells like him and that woodsy smell with hints of leather and citrus sears a path from my olfactory organs down to the pit of my stomach. I hug his pillow to my chest, breathing in his scent and weeping quietly. Will I ever not miss him?

  When I wake up the next morning, I see all of our dinner ingredients still on the countertop. That sets me off again and I leak tears while throwing everything away and washing up. Then I make myself some coffee and force myself to go to work. And I do barely more than that the next day and the next and the next. I sleep, I stress vomit, I work, I sleep some more. I avoid all phone calls and text the bare minimum to keep anyone from checking up on me. I can’t even watch Jessica Fletcher. That’s been ruined for all time. The peppy 1980’s theme song leaves an aching hole in me.

  I’m an empty shell masquerad
ing as a human woman. I see Ames’ bottle of Jo Malone cologne in the bathroom and wear it, torturing myself with his familiar scent. At the end of the week, I’m finishing up a job townside when I get a call from Tripler. They had a late cancellation and can fit me in for a mammogram and MRI if I can be there in a half an hour. I drop everything and drive over. Miraculously, I find a parking spot right away and make it inside with five minutes to spare.

  We do all the fun intake junk — weight, blood pressure, urine test, yada yada yada. I do my favorite thing: fill out the paperwork, answer the same exact questions for the nurse, answer the same fucking questions for the corpsman, then the doctor comes in and asks me a third time because apparently no one speaks to each other or reads the files before they enter the room. I’m sad and angry and over all of this shit. All I want is to crawl back home and go back to hiding and crying in total isolation. They send me to get my boobs smashed, but when I get back to the exam room the doctor tells me to go ahead and get dressed. They can’t have found something already, could they? I get dressed in a hurry and wait, crinkling on the paper covering and swinging my legs since I’m too short to reach anything. I’m thinking about how much I wish I could call Ames, just to hear his voice, when the doctor finally comes in.

  “Mrs. Cabot, first of all, we’ll call you with the mammogram results in a couple of weeks.”

  “Ok, is there a delay on the MRI or something?”

  “We won’t be able to do the MRI. I do apologize, they shouldn’t have even scheduled it for you. We don’t advise it during pregnancy.”

  I stare, unable to form even one coherent thought.

  “They did tell you you’re pregnant, right? After the urine test?”

  “Oh, uh, right. Pregnant. I’m pregnant. Um, how pregnant, exactly?”

  “Based on the date of your last period, 6 weeks is likely, but you’ll need to make an appointment to see an OB to be sure. They’ll do an internal ultrasound during that first appointment and measure the embryo. It’s more accurate that way.” He looks at me kindly, but my brain is spinning like tires in mud.

  “Right. Ultrasound. Ok. So I’ll just go then?” He nods and shakes my hand, pointing the way out.

  I’m in a daze as I make my way out to my car. It’s a good thing I grew up here otherwise I would have needed my brain to navigate home and people probably would have died by my distracted driving. As it is, I make it back to Kaneohe in one piece with no unintentionally dead bystanders. I want my mom. More than just about anything, I want to fall in Kaachan’s arms and lose it within the safety of her love. But I know how disappointed she will be when she finds out we lied to them. I can’t handle that on top of everything else. Not today. Not after that appointment. I just need to go home. I can think about what is next once I’m home.

  46

  Ames

  Five days. I’ve been alone, sleeping on the ship for five days. I think people are starting to notice I’m not going home but I don’t give a fuck. I can’t even bring myself to care about how this looks to other people. Everything hurts. I feel a bit like I’m dying, but that can’t possibly be true. I throw myself into work, putting in long hours since I’m not going anywhere, and using the weight room a couple of times a day. I’m exhausted and sore, but I have less time to think about Nalani. Less time to acknowledge how much I miss her. Every time I think about her, how perfectly her petite body fits with mine, the kindness in her big hazel eyes, the smell of her soft, dark hair, I want to either cry or punch something until my knuckles break. Neither seems like a great option right now. I opt for not thinking about anything but my job. I guess my ex was right, I am an unfeeling robot. Better unfeeling than completely miserable. Norah has been giving me the side-eye, but thus far, I’ve successfully avoided having a private conversation with her. I can’t. I won’t be able to hold it together if I have to speak out loud about Nalani.

  I miss her so much. I miss our life together. And even worse than that, I’m really worried for her. She’s moving forward with the double mastectomy. That’s scary as fuck and she’s intending to do it alone. She doesn’t want me, but I still want to be there for her. I don’t know how to do that though. I’m sure she won’t accept help from me. I’m left as is. At least she will still use the insurance. That’s something.

  It’s almost lunchtime and I’ve been working for seven hours already. I decide to go grab lunch and remind myself what the sunshine looks like. I haven’t gone topside in days, and I feel like a subterranean creature, stumbling out into the blinding daylight. I want to crawl back into my dark hole and hide. I’m almost to my car when Norah intercepts me.

  “Cabot. What the fuck is going on with you? Talk to me. Now.”

  “I’m going to get lunch.” I tell her lamely.

  “You know that’s not what I mean. Why have you been sleeping on the ship? Why do you look like shit? Is Nalani ok?”

  “She wants a divorce.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my emotions under control.

  “Bullshit! There’s no way!”

  “She said, ‘why prolong the inevitable’ and that we should do it now.” My voice cracks.

  “But you love her! And I swear she loves you! Is this some contract bullshit?”

  “Wait, what? I don’t…what?” I have no idea how to respond to any of that.

  Norah looks embarrassed. “So, um, I kind of know about the contract. Sorry. Nalani accidentally let it slip, but I’ve kept your secret!”

  “Ok, so you know the truth about why we got married. What about the rest?”

  “Remember when you had the flu?” I nod, confused. “You told Nalani you love her.”

  “I did?” I bury my face in my hands, feeling more sick and embarrassed than I thought possible. “So she knows I love her, and she still wants a divorce? That’s even worse. Thanks, Norah. I thought I had hit rock bottom, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “No, you idiot, she didn’t believe it! I told her that not remembering you said it because you were sick wasn’t the same as not meaning it, but she wouldn’t listen to me!” She grabs my hand, squeezing hard. “She’s convinced you don’t love her, that you couldn’t love her, and she’s running scared! I know what that’s like, remember! It’s just my opinion, so you don’t have to listen, but I think Nalani is in love with you! Problem is, she’s so fucking terrified of loving you and having it not be reciprocated, she’s willing to cut and run to protect herself.”

  “I have to talk to her. I shouldn’t have given in so easily and left her alone. I should have stayed.” Norah squeezes my hand one last time, nodding. “I’ll text you later.”

  I’m climbing into my car when my cell phone rings. As much as I don’t love talking on the phone, work calls are a regular thing and I don’t have the option of ignoring it. I don’t hesitate to pick up or even check to see who it is.

  “Lieutenant Cabot.”

  “Good afternoon, Sir, this is HM1 Sims calling from Tripler.”

  “Hey HM1, what can I do for you?” I’m idly wondering if this has something to do with one of my guys so I’m half listening, anxious to be done and on my way home.

  “We’ve tried to get ahold of your wife, but she hasn’t answered, and I didn’t want to only leave a message. You’re down as wanting to receive medical information as her next of kin.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” The knot in my stomach intensifies.

  “It’s nothing serious, Sir, but your wife didn’t schedule her OB appointment after we had to cancel the MRI. Because of her cancer screenings, Doc is really wanting her to get in and get that first ultrasound so we can stay on top of all the different appointments covering her care.”

  “You said OB appointment?”

  “Yes, sir. Some people wait until a little later in the pregnancy to schedule one, but Doc is pretty insistent that she come earlier, especially while we’re waiting for the mammogram results.”

  “Right. Ok.” My heart is racing, and my hands are shaking. “Well,
HM1, I’m going to have to check with her, but I’ll be sure to get that scheduled before next week. Does that work?”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you. Afternoon.”

  Holy shit. Nalani is pregnant? The immediate elation is tempered with the crashing realization that she left me. Did she know when she left me? Is that why she left? Does she not want me to be a part of this? It doesn’t matter that she said she can’t do this, now I HAVE to talk to her. I race back through the gate and across the brow, almost running bodily into the Executive Officer.

  “Whoa, Cabot, where’s the fire?”

  “Sorry, Sir!” I pant out. “I got a call from Tripler. Something’s wrong with my wife…” I’m trying to figure out how to explain my dilemma, but he’s already waving me off.

  “Go. Get to your wife. We’ll see you on Monday.”

  “Thank you, Sir!” I yell, throwing a sloppy salute while I’m already turning to run to my car. I’m reversing from my spot when my phone dings. I slam on my brakes and check it.

  Darlin: I need you

  That’s enough for me. I throw my phone onto my passenger seat.

  “FUCK!” I scream in frustration. I have no clue what is going on, but Nalani needs me. That’s all I need to know.

  47

  Nalani

  Is this what it feels like to be dying, actually dying? I’ve cried myself hoarse, I’ve thrown up, and then I cried some more for good measure. I miss Ames with a physical ache, like I’m missing an essential part of myself. I force myself to sip the lemon-ginger tea I made, the flavor settling my stomach some. I still feel like I’m about a breath away from cracking, though. I make a phone call, the combination of my stuffed nose and cracked voice making it hard for the receptionist to understand me at first. She transfers me back and I’m only on hold for a minute or so.