All this time.
My eyes close, my hand going to the silver chain around my neck.
“It’s a reminder. So you never forget who you are.”
All this time.
Bear.
My Bear.
My hand goes to my mouth, tears spilling out of my eyes, falling unheeded down my cheeks. It’s always been him. All this time. I’m in love with him. I’m so in love with him, so deeply, so absolutely, unequivocally in love with him, that I couldn’t even see it.
I scramble from the bed, racing for the bathroom. For the trash bin. I grab it, my arm digging inside for the little white stick. My fingers close around it, and I pull it out, giving it a quick glance.
One pink line.
Just one.
I close my eyes, fighting disappointment. I want the baby. I want the family. I want Kyle. But I want the army too. I want it all.
I toss the stick back in the bin and leave the bathroom. Kyle is still fast asleep. I leave him that way. He needs it so desperately. Picking up my robe from the floor, I slip it on and make myself a coffee before taking a seat at the table, pulling the re-enlistment papers towards me, the pen rolling off beside them.
I flick through them, my heart a chaotic mess inside me. What am I supposed to choose?
My head tips back and I swallow, my throat thick as I try to make sense of the whirlwind in my head.
I just want to wake up without this heavy weight on my chest. I want to laugh, and love, and I want to live, just the way Kyle showed me it could be. I want to be … happy.
The internal revelation makes me stutter. Jake was right. It’s the only choice I ever had to make. To be happy. And not the happy I tried forcing myself to feel, but the kind that comes without even thinking about it. The kind that comes naturally, from deep down inside.
The heavy weight slides right off my shoulders and tears spring to my eyes, making them hot.
“Jamie?”
I blink them away and turn my head. Kyle is sitting up on his elbow, eyes bleary, rubbing at his face. He looks like everything I never knew I wanted.
“You can always change the ending.”
I set the papers back down. They might be signed, but that was yesterday. I’m not going to lodge them. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. Because it’s not the army that makes me happy. It’s helping people. It’s saving lives. It’s the hope that I’m making a difference, and that what I did at the end of my life mattered. I don’t need to be a soldier to achieve all that, but I need Kyle.
“Did I wake you?” I rise from the table, a smile curving my lips. “Go back to sleep.”
His voice is low and drowsy but there’s a happy light in his hooded eyes. “Kiss me first.”
I walk over, leaning down. Kyle tips his head up, and I kiss him. His hand snakes around my neck, tugging, and I tumble down on top of him, laughing.
“Mmm.” His mouth rubs against mine. “You smell like coffee.”
“I’ll make you one later. Sleep. I’m going to shower.”
He waggles his brows. “I’ll join you.”
“No! Sleep. You need it.” I push up off of him, tugging the tie of my robe free from his busy fingers. “I’ll give you something really good if you do.”
“Now you’re talking.”
“I know how to speak your language, Kyle.”
His laughter trails behind me as I walk inside the bathroom, shedding my robe. Making sure the temperature is perfectly warm, I step inside the shower. I take my time, soaping up my hair twice, leaving the conditioner in, combing it through, shaving my legs, exfoliating all over until I’m buffed and smooth, my skin pink. I step out an entire lifetime later, drying off, telling myself it’s a good thing my test was negative. I’m not ready. Neither of us are. We’re only just working out how we feel.
Wrapping the towel up in my hair like a turban, I slip on my robe and open the bathroom door, steam trailing out behind me.
My eyes go to the bed but it’s empty. I scan my little unit. Kyle isn’t here. My brows pull together. His bag isn’t by the door. Nor are the clothes he left on the floor. My skin prickles with the heat of panic.
I walk into the kitchen, spinning in a circle, searching. But there’s nothing. No evidence that Kyle was here at all. My gaze drops to the table and my stomach dips painfully low. My re-enlistment papers are a crumpled mess. The same papers I dated today, because today was going to be the day I handed them in.
My eyes close and I see Kyle sitting up in bed, watching as I set them down on the table, moving the pen. He doesn’t know. He came here declaring his love for me and all he got in return was a signed document telling him I was giving the army another three years of my life, and giving him nothing.
“Fuck!” I shout, running for the door. I rip it open, stepping out, looking left and right, but it’s like he was never here.
I run down the full length of the balcony in nothing but a tiny terry cloth robe, past unit doors, past soldiers in uniform, my bare feet slapping against the wet concrete, until I reach the very end, breathless, looking out across the road.
“Jamie?”
I turn.
It’s Connor.
“What’s going on?”
I race back past him, ignoring his question. Maybe Kyle ducked out for some reason and slipped back in from the other side, using the staircase on the left. I swallow panic as I dash back inside, but it’s exactly how I left it. Empty.
I slap a hand across my mouth, holding back a sob.
My phone.
I need my phone.
Where the fuck is it?
I dash about the unit, frantic, searching, until I remember I tossed it on the bed last night right before I answered the door. I find it down the side, on the floor, but it’s dead.
I race to the kitchen for the charger, and that’s when I see it. I jerk to a halt, my eyes landing on the flat brown package. It almost blends in with the tabletop it rests on. I pick it up, turning it, my name scrawled on the front. I take it with me to the counter, plugging in my phone. After an endless minute, it comes back to life. I go straight to my contacts, dialling Kyle, heart in my throat as I set the audio to speaker. An automated message comes through. His phone is off. Dammit.
I hang up and I’m setting it back on the counter when a message dings. It’s from Kyle. I open it, breathless, sick.
Kyle: Jamie, I’m sorry for leaving the way I did, but I feel like such a fool. I snooped through the papers on your table, and I’m sorry for that too. I got up to make a coffee and they were right there, but that’s no excuse.
I came here for no other reason except my need to see you. No ultimatums. But you have this plan of your future in your head, and you’re so intent on living it on your own terms. I’m not sure I’m included in that. At least, not in the way I want to be. You’re closed up so tight I don’t think anyone could break through. Not even me.
I love you, Jamie. I fell in love with you because of the million things you never knew you were doing. But I want to be loved in return. I want the kind of love that’s so deep, and so endless, and so consuming, it goes beyond a lifetime. I want forever, and I wanted it with you. But this morning I realised it’s not possible and that coming to see you was a mistake.
Please don’t call or message. At least not for a while. I need time. And space. And I need to hope we can one day be friends the way we used to be.
You’ll always be my Little Warrior.
Bear.
“Damn you, Kyle!” I yell, getting to the end of the message. I rip the charging cord free and throw my phone. It flies across the room, hitting the wall. The screen cracks on impact before dropping to the tiles below.
My back slides down the kitchen cupboards as I sink to the floor, holding both palms against my head as a sob breaks me open, so wide and deep it doesn’t make a sound. The next one is loud. And it hurts. And the next. Until I’m crying so hard it feels as though I’ll never stop.
I
can’t hold them back anymore.
I can’t.
Kyle left me again, but this time it’s my fault because I didn’t give him a reason to stay. I gave him nothing. I bang the back of my palm against my forehead. “Arrghhh!” I should have fucking told him.
I cry until my eyes are swollen and my stomach heaves. I cry until I’m sick. For everything I’ve ever lost.
For my father.
For Jake.
For Arash.
For Kyle.
When I’m wrung dry, I get to my feet, wobbly like a newborn foal. My stomach rolls over in a slow, queasy thump, and bile climbs my throat. I race for the bathroom, throwing up in the toilet, heaving, gagging, until there’s nothing left.
“Jamie!”
Banging comes at my door. It’s Connor. This time I know it is. I brush my teeth and wash my face in the basin before walking out of the bathroom, dizzy and tired. “Go away.”
“Are you okay? Open up.” He bangs again.
I grab the nearest object, a heavy book, and throw it at the door, shouting, “Go away!”
It’s followed by blessed peace. I pad over to the beige package, carrying it with me to the bed. It’s wrapped with precise corners, neat and perfect. I climb onto the middle of the mattress, cross-legged, eyes swollen and puffy, and peel the tape away from the edges, ripping it open. The brown paper falls away, revealing a black leather-bound folder.
I set it on my lap, flipping the cover. It opens to the first page where a photo sits square in the middle. I bring a hand to my mouth. It’s Arash. My eyes swallow up every detail. He looks a little taller, but he still has that cute grin, the very one that says how cool he is. He holds a sheet of paper in his hands with writing on it in thick black marker. It’s neat and legible, so I know someone has written it for him.
Hi Jamie!
That’s all it says. I swallow, fingers trembling as I turn the page. It’s another photo of Arash. This time he’s standing in front of an old building. There’s a fresh white sign on the front, words painted blue that read Helping Hearts Orphanage. A red heart sits underneath, surrounded by two hands.
This is where I live.
I didn’t think I had more tears left inside me, but it seems I do. They fall down my cheeks, slow and silent. I run my fingers over the image as if I can touch him from here. I swipe at my face and turn the page. Arash is standing by a bed, holding another sheet of paper. The mattress is thick, the bedding clean and fluffy, with two pillows and a stuffed dinosaur in the middle.
This is where I sleep.
I turn the next page. Arash stands beside an open box of toys.
These are all my toys.
I peer close, bringing the page to my eyes. He has the entire collection of Avengers. All of them look brand new. Thor. Iron Man. The Hulk. Black Widow. I even see Rocket peeking out alongside Captain America.
Did Kyle do all this? Pay for all this? Suddenly I can’t breathe, but still I turn another page because I can’t stop. Arash is standing by a pile of books and pencils in the next photo.
This is my school work.
I turn another page. Arash standing next to an Australian soldier. One I don’t recognise. He’s crouched, bringing him to the same height as Arash, sunglasses on, both of them holding up thumbs.
This is Anderson. His team brought me here.
I start to shake. Another page. Arash with a boy. Both of them appear similar in age, arms around each other’s shoulders. It’s an awkward pose, but they don’t seem to care because their grins are wider than the Sahara Desert.
This is Farjaad. Anderson brought him here with me.
Another page. Arash with a small girl.
This is Hajira. Anderson brought her here with me too.
I turn another. And another. Until I count six kids in total, including Arash. Six. I close my eyes, remembering back to my road trip with Kyle. His phone conversation.
“How many did you say?” Kyle had said before pausing, listening to the person on the other end of the line speak.
“Six? Jesus H.”
He paused, listening before speaking again. “No, do it. Let me know the cost and I’ll wire the money. Can you get the photos?”
I turn another page. All six kids are in the next photo, their arms around each other in a huddle of bright happy faces. Another sheet of paper is held by Arash.
We are safe because of you.
The lump in my throat is so large I can’t swallow around it. I smooth a hand across the page, my finger tracing along their little smiles. But the folder hasn’t reached its end, and I can’t stop myself from flipping another page, greedy for more. The next photo is Arash standing in front of a mature couple. They both have a hand resting on each of his shoulders.
I am leaving the orphanage in two weeks. I got adopted. This is my new family.
My lips mash together, eyes blurring through my tears. Kyle is killing me. I have never seen such a selfless act of kindness in all my life. Never.
I turn another page. It’s Arash by himself. He’s holding up another sheet of paper, but in his other hand is the photo that Connor took of us on that bright happy day.
I will never forget you, Jamie. You saved me. Thank you.
I turn the page but there are no more photos, just a simple card with his full name and new address, clearly placed there so I can keep in touch.
I don’t leave my unit all day, ignoring the messages that build up from Erin and Wood. The folder doesn’t leave my side. I go through it again, and again, and again, until I can’t see straight. I sleep with it that night, exhausted, hugging it to my chest, and when I wake in the morning my mind is clear. I know what I need to do.
Thanking my lucky stars I didn’t break my phone in my little fit yesterday, I go through my contacts and find Ryan, dialling his number.
“Hey, Jamie,” he answers. “How are you?”
I don’t have time for pleasantries. I explain everything that happened, and I do it quickly because I’m impatient. He doesn’t sound surprised at Kyle’s visit, but his voice turns hard when I get to the outcome.
“It was a misunderstanding.”
“There wouldn’t have been one if you just spoke to him,” he says.
I want to protest but Ryan is right. “I know that now. The thing is, he left behind this gift for me. A folder. It’s—”
“I know what it is,” he replies, interrupting me.
“You do? Because I can’t even begin to imagine what it took to make all that happen.”
Ryan does not fuck around. “It cost him everything to make it happen. Everything. Do you get what I’m saying?”
I nod, even though he can’t see it. “I don’t deserve him, do I?”
“He seems to think you do.”
“Ryan?” My hand grips tight to the phone. “You’ll probably say no, but I need a favour.”
His voice softens, gruff. “I’m not a total asshole, Murphy. I care about the both of you. Tell me what you need.”
I lay it all out and when I’m done, there’s a deep measure of respect in his voice. “I’ll get right on it.”
“Thank you,” I breathe. “Thank you so much.”
“You got it, Murphy.”
I hang up the phone and set it on the counter, my bladder ready to burst. I make my way to the bathroom. Tugging down my underwear, I take a seat on the toilet, my eyes falling to the trash bin beside me. The white stick is still sitting there, reminding me what could have been. Finishing up, I flush and wash my hands. I dry them off and start to walk out, but something pulls me back, and I don’t know why.
I go back to the bin, plucking the stick free. I look at it, giving it a closer inspection. My heart begins to pound when I see a second line this time around. It’s so faint it’s barely visible at all, but it’s there.
I press a hand to my belly, my insides leaping with a mixture of excitement and terror. Oh my god. Is it real, or just a phantom second line?
The box is sti
ll on the counter. I pick it up, slightly breathless, and take out another test. I drink as much water as I can and wait ten minutes. I can’t wait longer than that.
My hand shakes as I pee on the second stick. I stay seated on the toilet, waiting, knickers around my ankles and eyes on the test. The second line appears slowly, and it’s still faint, but it’s there. It’s fucking there.
Holy shit.
I’m actually going to have a baby.
Kyle is going to be a father.
36
JAMIE
Three months later …
The plane circles in the sky above Perth. We’re in a holding pattern over the airport. I heard the grinding of the wheels below my seat a while ago, and my gut is telling me something is wrong. I don’t think they’re coming down.
I have about (I check my watch) zero time for a crisis. My plan is in motion, and if I’m not there it’s going to blow up in my face.
My head tips back and I take a hand from my belly to grip the armrest, expelling a deep, impatient breath. Every day, every hour, every minute, has led up to this moment, and it’s been endless. I need Kyle. I need him so much.
“We’re going to be okay, dear,” June, my fellow passenger says from beside me. She pats my hand in a soothing gesture, mistaking my tension for a paralysing fear of flying. June is returning from Brisbane, having attended her eightieth birthday party with family. They live on the east coast and she lives here on her own because it’s home. My head tips towards the window, looking down. Home.
“Thanks,” I say, tilting my lips, hoping it somehow forms a smile. I don’t tell her I’ve been through worse. Planes dipping and lurching to avoid gunfire, coming down in a war-torn country in the dead of night to the deep shuddering boom of missiles hitting the earth. That’s all behind me now.
I’m officially honourably discharged from the army. They warned me the transition would be difficult, but I never imagined feeling so adrift. Untethered from the harbour. I’m a civilian now, no longer a part of something special. I don’t belong anymore.
Bitch, you’ve got bigger problems, my bladder screams.
Fighting Absolution Page 38