16. Will
CHAPTER 16
WILL
“FREE FALLIN’” - THE CADILLAC THREE it’s difficult to fathom how I can also give it to Cam. If I did, what would she be left with when something happens to me?
It may be selfish, but my identity is dictated so much by my profession at this point. I’m caught in the middle of a cataclysmic game of tug-of-war, holding on desperately to the little bits and pieces I have left that are just for me. And weighing the options of my future, whether I could bring someone into it with nothing to offer but unknowns.
Aside from me being scared of losing her, I can’t open Cam up to the heartbreak that would inevitably come when something happens to me while I’m deployed. Not to be morbid, but it’s only a matter of time until I’m physically damaged or emotionally scarred enough to not ever be the same. She doesn’t deserve to become my caregiver or to watch my soul fade away like Thatch’s did.
Thatch...I miss him more than words could ever describe. Thinking of him is one of those things where it feels good doing it but also leaves you twisted up afterward. Seeing the poster and reading the words spoken by Bri wounded me. Loss like this is similar to a knife being plunged just deep enough and then turned to enhance the pain. Thatch was a good man, and he didn’t deserve to go out the way he did. The guilt, more than anything, eats at my soul when I remember the events playing out. They flash through my mind like a black-and-white movie playing on reel.
“Will, did you want to share today?” Brad, the chaplain in charge of leading our mandatory small group discussions, breaks into my thoughts.
After our unit got back from overseas, they made us start going to these group sessions with a bunch of other people around base. Some are from the Air Force, and some from other branches. The purpose for us all is the same: learn to cope with what happened. My therapist says these sessions are good for me, but they have a special way of bringing up all the things I desperately want to forget. We just sit around sharing heartbreaking shit—talk about pouring salt in a wound. We have to do it though, it’s either agree to this or not be cleared to return to work.
“Ugh, not really. But I know you’re not gonna let me out of it so here goes...” I mumble. “We were working a mission with our unit...”
The guys and I belong to a joint tactical airborne unit, so our group is comprised of members from multiple branches of the service. Our mission is to provide early entry and airborne communications. This means we’re often the first group on the ground, sometimes dropping in via parachute to remote locations.
“Thatch was watching the video feeds, remarking about how dull of a day it had been, when our position was compromised. It wasn’t compromised by your average terrorist looking to engage, but by a child. The girl couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old, and she was strapped with enough C-4 to blow most buildings. The other unit we were with moved to try to communicate with her and tell her they could help by disabling the weapons. But the vest she had on must have had a remote operator because she never pressed the button and yet it still blew up. Most of us were far enough back that injuries were minimal, but the image of that innocent girl, one who was likely not even given a choice, reverberated through our team the way shock waves linger after a large earthquake. You’re never the same after you’ve been through something like that, and yet here we all are, minus Thatch, getting ready to go do it again.”
“How does that make you feel, getting ready to head back, minus your buddy?” asks Brad.
“It’s the job, Brad. You act like we have a fucking choice,” I spit back at him, annoyed that he would even ask the question.
Smith chimes in, saving me from ripping innocent Brad’s head off. “We all miss Thatch. Hell, he was a better man than most of us...But like Davenport said, we have a job to do. Rehashing it all isn’t going to make any of it go away, and it sure as shit isn’t going to make the enemy fight fair the next time.”
Brad looks at us over the rim of his standard-issue, thick-rimmed black glasses, his brow furrowed a little. I’m sure he’s seen this too many times to count, and there isn’t an argument for it. We signed up for this exact thing, to fight against all enemies foreign and domestic when no one else will. Hell, Brad signed up to try to give us some hope and peace as a chaplain. I’m sure he didn’t expect the horrors of war to fill his days. He probably envisioned us all sitting around in a circle singing each other’s praises for a job well-done.
“Since we don’t seem to be making any progress toward a resolution of what happened, is there anything else you’d all like to talk about today?” Brad asks, looking at his watch and frowning distinctly as the realization that we have thirty-eight painful minutes left smacks him on the cheek.
“Can we talk about the stunner that Davenport brought to the course this past weekend?” some dude named Shoemaker pipes in.
Brad’s face shifts immediately from a state of surrender to intrigue. I know the line of questioning that’s coming my way, seeing that I never bring female friends to anything work related for this very reason. I have to say something quick to shut it down. There’s always someone looking to cozy up to your girl and keep them comfortable while you’re overseas. I’ve seen it too many times, and it’s something I strictly avoid. Cam, however, is my friend, and while I knew I shouldn’t have opened her up to this scrutiny, I couldn’t help myself. When it comes to her, I can never help myself. I’m starting to need her close all the time, and that scares the hell out of me.
“Cam is not open for discussion or dating!” I shout definitively, scoring me a couple of raised eyebrows from Smith and Ruiz. Butler is so damn lucky he doesn’t have to come to these sessions since he wasn’t on our last mission.
“Fair enough. Gibbs, you’re up. What do you have for us today?” Brad gives me a nod of solidarity.
I try to pay attention to the stories that Gibbs recalls. I do believe people get something out of sharing their feelings, and I don’t want to see anyone else end up like Thatch. Even so, sitting through these sessions is never easy. The meeting drags on until Brad finally declares us free to go, and I sigh in relief that the conversation never made its way back around to me.
Now that our group session is over, Smith, Ruiz, and I head to the base exchange, which is basically a glorified food hall, to get some lunch before going back to work. It’s inevitable that they’re going to bring up what I said about Cam. It’s more a matter of when they’re going to call me on my bullshit. We grab tacos, since that line is the shortest and we’re running low on time. I’m working my sauce packet open when the tension mounts to an almost unbearable level.
“Okay, out with it. Smith. I know you have something to say,” I mutter.
“Dude, laying claim to a woman you won’t even fess up to liking...bold move,” he says, snickering at me.
“What was I supposed to say? What would you have said if that guy chose to comment on Lo?” I demand, pointing my finger at him and raising a brow.
“Relax, I’m just giving you a hard time. But seriously, what’s the deal with the Cam situation? She’s all we heard about for years, and now that she’s finally here, you’re acting like a wimp. Why won’t you ask her out?”
“We’re just friends, Smith. I don’t do relationships, remember? We’ve been over this!” I practically shout. He’s pissing me off now.
“Okay, okay, okay, but hear me out...I know you don’t do relationships, but you don’t even know if Cam wants a relationship. Maybe she’d be cool with a few friends-with-benefits sessions, you know, until we leave. Keep it light, casual,” he explains.
“Yeah, a little Netflix and chill, man,” Ruiz adds, crunching down his taco.
“It’ll never work, we have too much history, too many feelings. It’s best if we’re just cool with each other. That way once we leave, it’s no big deal,” I say around a mouthful of taco. I’m not about to open up and spill my heart out to these two town gossips anyway. It’s better if I downplay any feelings I may or may not be having. They wouldn’t understand where I’m coming from. They’ve never lost people, at least not in the way I have. Thatch was close with them for sure, but we were best friends. He was the first person I let in after my dad walked out and I dumped Cam. He was the only other person besides Cam that I let all the way in.
“Fine, if you say so, but let the record show that I think she’s exactly what you need. She makes you better. I even saw you smile at the race, and my dude, I haven’t seen those pearly whites since long before our last deployment. I even poured one out on Thatch’s grave telling him about it. We all just want you to be happy,” Smith admonishes.
I chuckle and shake my head because while he means well, Smith is relentless. I’ve been happy and smiled prior to the race day with Cam. He’s just playing up the drama for his own enjoyment. Does she make me happy and want to be better? Yeah, of course! Is it possible for us to be together without one of us getting hurt? That’s still a big, fat no.