Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
DUSTIN
W e’ve been here for a good two months, moving back and forth every ten days between the combat outpost and the forward operating base. When it comes to keeping my mind busy, I prefer our time at the outpost and our daily missions, no matter how minuscule some of them are. Those moments seem to keep the personal sharing to a minimum. Unlike now, as the guys sit around bullshitting one another. We arrived back at the operating base a few days ago and while I’m thankful for a shower and clean clothes, I could do without the Kumbaya sessions.
I sit in the back, cleaning my weapon as they watch Field of Dreams. Or more like have it on as background noise. Hell, I’m paying more attention to it than they are, but truth be told, I could recite the whole movie in my sleep. A fact none of them need to know.
My mind begins to drift back to my childhood and my obsession with ball. It’s all I ever knew. It’s all I ever loved. Until she moved to town. And while she wasn’t in competition with my love for the game, she fell in line with it and easily became more important. The dynamics of my future shifted. Until she was gone, and my future as a third baseman disappeared along with her.
“Roberts. Greyson. Pool. Williams. Daniels. Adams. Adams. Dustin Adams.”
I jump to my feet at the use of my first name. I haven’t gotten close enough to anyone for that information to be known. First Sergeant Mills stands holding a handful of envelopes. I take in his deep brown complexion with eyes to match. The only thing darker is his hair that has a shading of gray setting in.
“You’ve got mail, soldier,” he says, holding out the envelope. If it were anyone else, we’d have words. But Mills, he’s put me in my place more times than I’d like to admit, and I respect the hell out of him for doing so.
“Lieutenant,” I say and nod. I inspect the envelope, trying to get an idea of where it’s from. The return address is for Jasper, Georgia, but I know it’s not from my mom. I haven’t given her the address. I rarely ever do.
Dustin,
Wow! I don’t even know what to say. The multitude of crumpled papers at my feet is evidence of that. Maybe I should put them all together so you can witness the evolution of this letter. Actually, that’s a horrible idea as my words have been all over the place trying to string together something that makes sense. How is that even possible when nothing seems to make sense?
I don’t know if this is a bad idea, but the idea of not reaching out seemed worse. I don’t have many regrets in my life, but the ones I do have seem to all involve you. More so the way I’ve handled situations. Most recently, the one at Dax’s award ceremony. Truth be told, I keep playing the night in my head over and over, wishing I had handled it differently. Given the circumstances, there’d only be so much I could change, but maybe it’d be enough.
For the last thirteen years, all I’ve ever wanted was to see you again—to make sure you’re okay. Then I finally had that chance, and I blew it. Things never seem to go as we picture them to, do they?
Well, are you okay?
So many words I want to say. Words that just seem pointless, yet I keep finding myself wanting to say them all to you.
Stay safe, D
Love, E
I stare at the letter in my hand as if I’ve never seen words on paper before. As if I’m trying to brand every single one of them in my brain so I can play it on repeat. I want to scar her words onto my heart so I never forget them—in case I never receive them again. I stare and stare, trying to decipher this feeling. It’s foreign and somewhat obtrusive. My instinct is to fight it off. To be impenetrable. But something within is going to battle against that logic.
“Holy shit.” Someone snickers. All eyes are on me as I’ve seemed to become the entertainment. “Adams is smiling.”
“No, I’m not,” I say, straightening my mouth.
“You can’t bullshit a bullshitter,” Daniels says, strutting toward me. “Who’s got you smiling?” His eyes drop to the letter in my hand, and I quickly fold and tuck it in the envelope.
“Your mom.” I sit back down to reassemble my gun. “You didn’t know we had a thing?”
A look of disgust washes over his face and I snicker. He mumbles something about me being nasty as he retreats. I catch Brian sitting quietly, looking my way. He received mail, too, and I wonder what his wife had to say to him. He seems to be lost in thought, but his doesn’t put a smile on his face like mine did.
Reality slowly returns, sobering my thoughts. She’s married. Her husband is here. She was just being kind. Checking on me like one would an old friend. An old friend. That is what we had reduced one another to at Dax’s award ceremony. Whatever her reasoning may be, that’s what I have to tell myself. False hope or happiness are things I can’t afford to creep in and cloud my judgment.
The guys start to clear out, heading to bed. All but Brian. Figures. He sits in a chair, leaning back with his legs outstretched, crossed at the ankles. His hands rest in his lap, clasped together as his head rests on the back of the chair. His eyes are closed, and I take the rare moment to assess him. With his naturally tanned skin, black hair, and knowing he’s an Oklahoma boy, I’d venture to say he’s part Native American.
“Where’d you say you were from, Adams?” Brian doesn’t open his eyes or break form, confirming something does indeed have him in deep thought. I’m not sure I like where his thoughts might be going as he seems to be attempting to piece together a puzzle.
“I didn’t say.” Before he can prod any further, I gather my stuff and walk away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Walking into our shared room, I head up to the bunk bed we also share. For the sake of self-preservation, I’ve made it a point to avoid being around when he talks about his family. I don’t want to hear about something that was supposed to have been mine. Something I feel he doesn’t value the way he should. If I had what he has back at home, I’d be there, not here.
The picture I’ve avoided analyzing catches my eye, and I lean into the bottom bunk for a better look. I stare at Echo longer than I should, imagining she was smiling at me the way she was at the camera. I follow the arm draped around her to Brian. I can’t be mad. I see the appeal. Stark contrast to me…and the very white, blond boy in the family picture. I lean further to get a better look. The door handle jolts, and I jump, hitting my head on the metal bars above me.
“Adams.”
I grab the top of my head and turn to face Lieutenant Mills. “Sir,” I say, dropping my hands and straightening my stance.
“I just received word your team will be sent back out sooner than planned. I’ll give you further orders as I receive them but wanted you to give your team a heads-up.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll inform them.”
THE NEXT MORNING, we gather our belongings and wait for orders. I pull Echo’s letter out and read over it again even though I can repeat it verbatim. I picture her sitting legs crisscrossed, writing it, scrunching her nose at each word as she second-guessed herself.
I do the unthinkable and grab a piece of paper and quickly write her back.
Echo,
Give me all the words.
Love, D