Fighting Absolution

by Kate McCarthy

  “It’s in the glove compartment of your car.” The sneaky SOB. Trying to distract me from feeling sad by hiding presents in my car. “See you soon,” he says, grinning.

  “Later, Wood.”

  After his boarding pass is scanned, he turns and gives me a brief casual salute.

  I return it and then he disappears down the ramp.

  Gone.

  My eyes fill, causing my nose to fizz and burn. I blink and turn away, making my way back through the airport, oblivious to those around me. Families rushing for flights, couples walking arm-in-arm, business people powering along in dark suits, wheeling carry-on suitcases behind them.

  His present is sitting right there where he said it was. It’s wrapped perfectly in bright yellow and white stripes, the paper thick and sharp, the edges precise. I tear it open and toss the wrapping to the passenger seat. It’s a flat box with a lid. I open it, pushing tissue paper aside. It’s a white tee shirt with block print on the front that reads MY BFF HAS A LIGHT SABRE AND HE’S NOT AFRAID TO USE IT in black.

  I’m laughing when my phone dings with a message. It’s from Wood. It’s a selfie with his stupid, grinning face. He’s standing in the crowded aisle of the plane, pointing to his shirt, the hoodie he was wearing this morning unzipped and hanging from his shoulders. His shirt is the same except black with white font that reads MY BFF HAS A BLACK BELT AND SHE WILL TAKE YOU DOWN.

  My eyes well up. Again. God, Wood. You’re such a damn loser. I quickly tug my shirt free, not caring who sees, and replace it with his. It fits perfect, maybe a little snug. I put my sunglasses on to hide my eyes and take a quick selfie, sending it with a message.

  Jamie: Your shirts are stupid and ridiculous. I love them.

  Wood: Erin said they were stupid too, but I knew you’d love them. You’re the sister I never had, Murph. I miss you already.

  I sit in the car a long moment, just taking a breath. When I look up through the front windscreen, I see his plane rising into the cloudless sky, the morning sun gleaming across the sleek white metal as it lifts higher.

  “Miss you already too, Wood,” I say softly.

  I’m in the car driving back to base when I remember I’m supposed to be buying myself a handbag. I change direction and start for CastleTown Shoppingworld. It has a Witchery, and I remember Erin once saying that I could do no wrong in that store. The amber light ahead turns to red when my phone chimes brightly from its dashboard holder. It’s Kyle. I slow to a stop at the light and answer the video call.

  I briefly catch his face before returning my attention to the road. “I’m driving. Can you call back in ten?”

  “No can do. I have to head out.”

  I glance at him quickly. “Okaaaay then,” I draw out slowly as the next set of lights change to red. I’m catching all of them today. “What did you have to tell me?”

  I pull to a stop and look at my phone screen. There’s tension on Kyle’s face. And a smudge of dirt. Sunglasses sit perched on his head, and he’s dressed in desert camouflage. My stomach takes a nosedive to my toes. “Wait. You’re in Afghanistan?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you’re only just telling me now?”

  “About that.” He rubs at the back of his neck, wincing.

  I’m tempted to hang up on him, but he deserves a piece of my mind first. I rip the sunglasses from my face. “You can eat a dick, Kyle.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  The car behind me beeps its horn. I look up. The light is green. “Shit,” I mutter and accelerate, glancing at him quickly. “I thought we were friends. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “We barely got any notice.”

  “It takes five seconds to send a message.” My chest hammers with hurt. “You know what? Who cares anymore? If you can’t be bothered, then neither can I.”

  My hand reaches for the red button.

  “Jamie, wait! Just pull over for a second, okay?”

  The intensity on his face is a little unnerving. I make sure he sees my glare before I put my indicator on, pulling to a stop just off the road. After putting the car in park, I give him my attention.

  “What, Kyle?”

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.” He looks away. “I didn’t know how. Coming here without Jake feels so fucking wrong.” His head drops for a beat before he looks at me again.

  “I’m sorry too,” I say softly, and the urge to wrap my arms around him and wipe the desolate expression from his face rises inside me. But I can’t, and it hurts that I can’t.

  Kyle cocks his head, his gaze on mine. “Why are your eyes red?”

  “They’re not red.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  I tip my face to the rearview mirror. They are a little. “It’s dusty today.”

  “I call bullshit. There’s no dust in Townsville.”

  “There is today.”

  His lips press in a hard line. “Did someone upset you?”

  I let out a breath. “Wood left this morning. I just dropped him at the airport.”

  “Shit,” he mutters.

  “Brooks,” I hear Ryan say from somewhere behind him. Kyle turns his head. “We gotta go.”

  “Go,” I say when he turns back.

  “I’ll call you in a couple of weeks.”

  “Sure. Okay.”

  “Don’t be mad at me, please?”

  “I’m not mad. I promise.” Which is true. I’m not mad. Just sick. Two weeks means he’s headed out on a mission. The last one his team went on— My stomach churns and I can’t finish the thought. “Take care of yourself. Please.”

  “You too.”

  My hands white-knuckle the steering wheel when he hangs up. Erin better be right about her ‘shopping is therapy’ mantra because I’m about ready to drop a truckload of cash right now at a whole bunch of retail stores.

  25

  KYLE

  Bagram Airbase

  Afghanistan

  Little Warrior: My deployment schedule’s been posted.

  Bear: When?

  Little Warrior: Can I video call?

  My heart does this weird leap, like a horse at the starting gate. I rub a hand over my chest as if I can force it to calm down. It’s just Jamie. The girl I’ve known since forever. I miss her is all, but I miss home too. I miss the colours. Everything is brighter back in Australia. More vivid. The water is clear blue, the sun a brighter shade of yellow, the grass lush and green.

  We’ve been here two months now, and there’s been too much time to sit around and think. We have one reconnaissance mission under our belts. I’m eager for another. They make the time here move faster and leaves us feeling like we’re actually achieving something.

  Bear: Sure, just give me a minute to get undressed.

  Little Warrior: Please don’t.

  Bear: So that’s a no for naked video?

  Little Warrior: Can you see me rolling my eyes right now? That’s a hard no.

  Bear: You just said hard.

  Little Warrior: …

  Bear: Fine but you’re missing out. I’ve just done a thousand push-ups at least. My muscles are fully jacked right now.

  I haven’t. I’ve been lying in bed trying to summon the energy for a run. It’s hot out. And truth be told, it’s difficult without Jake. A gaping hole has been torn in the team. They’ve filled it, but Jake is a man not easily replaced. Nathan has the unfortunate honour of taking his place, having been hand-picked by our squadron commander. He’s young and cocky, as opposed to my mature and cocky, but that’s off the field. On patrol he’s eagle-eyed and focused. The man is no weak link, but it doesn’t make our hearts any less heavy.

  I roll over and sit up as Jamie replies, the three bubbled dots appearing and disappearing as she types.

  Little Warrior: I can’t believe you just said jacked.

  Bear: I say a lot of cool words. Are you going to video or what? I’m taking off my shirt.

  The video call comes in, and I hit the green butto
n to answer it. There’s an odd pull inside me when Jamie appears. There’s a natural earthiness about her that’s more inviting than a cold beer on a hot day. Her face is tan and familiar. It’s late afternoon and she’s in her unit, her uniform on with her hair loose. It ripples over her shoulders and down her back like whiskey—rich, silky, and lush. My brows snap together when I find myself tripping down a path that is decidedly non-platonic. What the hell? It’s just goddamn hair.

  “I see you’re wearing a shirt.” Her voice is husky and a little grumpy. She’s tired.

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “Relieved mostly. Don’t want my eyes getting rug burn from looking at your hairy chest.”

  I laugh, loving when she makes the effort to joke. It’s cute. She’s like an angry kitten revealing her playful side, and she would literally punch me in the nuts if I ever voiced the thought. I slide a hand beneath my cotton tee shirt, rubbing at the modest expanse of hair. “It’s hardly a carpet, but I can wax if you prefer it smooth,” I joke.

  Her eyes goggle. “You would wax your chest?”

  “Fuck no.” I physically recoil. “Have you seen The Forty-Year-Old Virgin? They damned near ripped his nipples off.”

  She props her phone up on the kitchen counter and sets about making a coffee. “That’s because they were supposed to put Vaseline on them first and didn’t.” She snorts. “Amateurs. I could do yours if you like. I think I’d enjoy making you cry like a little baby.”

  “Like you know how to wax a man’s chest.”

  Jamie pauses her action of spooning coffee into her mug and looks me in the eye. “I am a female, Kyle, in case you can’t see past the shapeless fatigues. We’re pretty much born knowing how to wax our own vaginas.”

  I lean forward into the phone, my lungs suddenly feeling a little tight. “You wax downstairs?”

  “Oh good lord.” She rolls her eyes and pours a dash of milk in her coffee. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

  “You started it.”

  She presses her lips together, but I see her fighting the urge to laugh. “And your point is?”

  “Don’t start a conversation you aren’t prepared to finish.”

  Jamie nods and brings the mug to her lips, blowing carefully on the hot liquid. “I’ll remember that in future.”

  “So is that a yes?”

  “Yes to what?”

  “The waxing.” I hold back a laugh. A little payback is in order, I think, for her hairy chest comment. “Do you go full Brazilian? Or do you leave a little landing strip? Or am I way off base and you’re a full-blown furry native?”

  She splutters, setting her coffee down before she spills it. “What in the actual fuck, Kyle? It’s none of your business!”

  “Of course, it is. I’m your friend. Friends talk about this stuff, right? I have no preference if you were wondering. Us guys aren’t as choosy as you women—”

  “I wasn’t wondering.”

  “—seem to think. In fact, I don’t mind a bit of hair. It’s like the framing of a Da Vinci painting. It’s—”

  “Oh my god. Okay! Okay! I’m sorry I implied that your chest was a rug.”

  “Apology accepted,” I reply in a haughty tone as she picks up her phone and starts walking with it. “But don’t ever diss on my chest again or I’ll start asking what other parts you wax and when I say parts, I mean—”

  The screen goes black.

  Jamie hung up on me.

  I tip my head back and laugh.

  Bear: I was going to say eyebrows. I swear.

  Little Warrior: You were not!

  Bear: Totally was. Why? What did you think I was going to say?

  Little Warrior: I’m not even going to say it.

  Bear: This conversation is a safe space, Jamie. You can say anything. I’m not here to judge you.

  Little Warrior: You know if I was there right now I’d punch you.

  Bear: Feisty women are hot.

  Little Warrior: I’m going to pretend I don’t know you when I get there.

  Bear: When are you getting here again?

  Little Warrior: Well I was videoing to tell you until you got all dirty.

  Bear: How dare you? I shower every day.

  Except on missions. There are no showers in the mountains nor across the rocky terrain. There’s no shaving. There’s no room to pack ten pairs of clean socks. You get dirt and dust inside your uniform, or mud and sludge in your pants and boots from walking through thigh-deep creeks, and it stays there until you return to base. The days are long when you spend them caked in dirt. The nights are even longer and usually spent either guarding the camp or dreaming of cold beer, thick juicy steaks, hot showers, and sinking your cock inside a warm and willing female.

  I push the last particular thought away with a curse, tossing my phone and rubbing at the back of my neck as I stand and leave my bunk. Sexual frustration on the front line is an absolute sonofabitch.

  Little Warrior: I’ll be there in a week.

  My head tips back, a harsh breath pushing past my lips. The thought of her coming back here fires every protective instinct I possess. I know she can take care of herself, but it’s different here. This place takes from you and doesn’t give back. It’s not gentle. It’s not compassionate. It’s war. And the only thing predictable about war is that there will always be war. Jamie’s done enough. She deserves a little happiness.

  Bear: So soon?

  Little Warrior: I put my hand up to replace Wood. I don’t have family. Or children. It’s easier for me to leave last minute.

  Easier for everyone else, I want to say, but I don’t. When Jamie wants to do something, she does it, stuff the consequences.

  Bear: Then prepare to have your ass handed to you at poker.

  Little Warrior: Nice try but you always lose. Funny how you conveniently seem to forget that.

  A faint smile forms on my lips. I miss her. Messages aren’t the same. I tap the button on my phone, bringing up my photo album. I scroll to the only photo of Jamie that I have. It’s from our barbeque at the beach. She’s sitting on the sand in her bikini. Her hair is tousled and damp and sticks to her neck, her nose a little sunburnt. I’ve caught her in a rare laugh, her hand stretched out towards the phone as she tries to hide her face from the camera.

  It’s my favourite photo in the world. It reminds me that humanity can be unspeakably destructive, but it can also be incredibly resilient. It can be hurt, and damaged, and suffer incredible pain, and despite it all, it can thrive. It can laugh and love and dance and be extraordinarily beautiful.

  Little Warrior: I want to ask you a question.

  I close the image, Jamie disappearing as I reply.

  Bear: Shoot.

  Little Warrior: Have you ever thought about leaving?

  Bear: The army?

  Little Warrior: Yes, the army.

  Bear: I think about it every damn day.

  Little Warrior: What would you do?

  Bear: I honestly don’t know. Raise my kids. Be there to pick them up from school. Take them travelling. I want to be a good dad. The dad I always wanted and never got. Why do you ask? Have you been thinking about leaving?

  Little Warrior: God no. This is it for me. The army is my life.

  I heave a deep sigh and rise to my feet. There’s no arguing with her about it. She’s too damn stubborn. Maybe I could show her instead. Show her what life can be like outside of regimens and rules and hierarchies. Show her that the army is a job, not a life.

  Bear: I’m taking you away after your deployment. Be ready. You’re mine for four whole weeks.

  Little Warrior: A holiday?

  Bear: Road trip.

  Little Warrior: Wait, what?

  Bear: We’re going to travel down the entire coast of Western Australia. We’ll do it all. Dive at Ningaloo Reef. Swim with whale sharks. Hike the gorges.

  Little Warrior: That actually sounds amazing.

  Bear: That, my clueless friend, is w
hat life is really all about.

  Little Warrior: Ahhh, I see what you’re trying to do here.

  Bear: Then let me.

  Little Warrior: You can try but it won’t work.

  Bear: It will work. Trust me, okay? I know you blame yourself for your father’s death. I do the same with Jake. But you can’t find forgiveness in war. Believe me, I’ve tried. We need to somehow let go. The only way I can think to do that is in living the best way we know how. Wouldn’t they want that for us?

  It takes a minute for Jamie to respond.

  Little Warrior: They would. You’re right. I trust you, Bear. Let’s do it.

  My chest swells as if a heavy weight has been lifted from it. I set my phone aside, and Monty appears in my open door, rapping on the side to catch my attention. “Briefing at 1700 hours.”

  I nod, rubbing a hand over my head, knowing I need to set my thoughts aside and focus on getting through this deployment. “Roger that.”

  “Let Kendall know. Not sure where he is.”

  “Will do.”

  He leaves and I find Ryan in the communication room, sitting at the computer. His hand is on the mouse but his eyes are closed. I squint a little at the screen. His emails are open. They’re his private business, but I look regardless. There’s one from Finlay. He’s clearly fighting against the urge to open it.

  I prop my shoulder up against the doorway. “Did the big bad soldiers tucker poor little Kendall out?”

  His fingers jolt on the mouse, and his head jerks my way, eyes flying open. He shuts his email down and gets to his feet. “I could do with some sleep. No one gets any rest bunking with you, asshole. You snore like a wounded elephant in heat.”

  My brows fly up. “How would you know what a wounded elephant in heat sounds like?”

  “Easy. It sounds like you.”

  I tip my chin towards the computer. “Heard from Fin?”

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “You just got that look on your face.”

  “What look?”

  “The look you get whenever you’re around her or when someone mentions her name. You know—the puppy eyes.”

  “Puppy eyes?” he growls. Ryan shoves me as he walks out the door. Being the rock-solid bastard I am, I barely budge an inch, and it only irritates him further. “Fuck off, Brooks. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”