John
Iwait all day to hear from Muncie and pounce on the phone when he finally calls at ten. “Did you see her?”
“I did.”
I want to ask him everything—how she looks, what she said, where she lives. “And?”
“Sir…”
My heart sinks at the way he says that single word. “What?”
“She’s engaged to be married.”
I want to howl. No, no, no. She can’t be engaged to someone else. I can’t hear that. Although… What did I expect? Ava is a beautiful, wonderful woman. Of course she didn’t sit around waiting for me. But still, I held out hope that maybe she had—hope that’s now been dashed.
“Sir? Are you still there?”
“I’m here.” I grit my teeth. “Who’s the guy?”
“His name is Eric Tilden. Seems like a nice enough guy. I did a search on him, and he’s the son of the New York governor. There was an article about them in the New York Times because her sister married his brother. That’s how they met—at the wedding last June.”
Last June. She was single as recently as last June. They haven’t been together that long. “Does she… Is she… happy?”
“I was only with her for a short time, but I would say she seems happy—albeit rattled to hear that you want to see her.”
My heart sinks to the floor and crashes.
“She’s not coming, then?” Earlier in the day, I got someone to cut my hair, and I shaved off the beard I allowed to flourish during my hospitalization.
I sent word to my unit that I wanted my dress blues updated with my new rank and brought to me so I could meet her in uniform. She’s never seen me in my dress blues.
“She asked for the night to think about it.”
I had this picture in my mind of her screaming with joy at the news Muncie brought and begging him to bring her to me right away so we could get on with the rest of our lives. I feel like I’ve swallowed a ten-ton boulder now that I know she didn’t exactly jump for joy at hearing I want to see her.
“I’m really sorry to not have better news, sir.”
I can’t bear his pity. “Don’t worry about it. Let me know when you hear from her tomorrow.”
“Will do.”
I end the call before he can say anything that’ll make me feel worse than I already do.
I’m like a balloon that’s been deflated.
Every minute I’ve spent in this hellhole trying to get back my mobility has been with her in mind.
She was the light at the end of the tunnel, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
The possibility that she wouldn’t want to see me never occurred to me.
Maybe it should have. I know what I did to her was unconscionable, but I never in a million years expected the deployment to last as long as it did.
However, when I accepted the assignment to the task force, I knew years-long deployments were a remote possibility.
That was before Al Khad came into our lives and changed the ballgame.
I roll my chair to the window to look out on the world that’s gone on without me.
Six years is a long time to be gone. I feel like a foreigner in a country I no longer recognize.
And without Ava, I have no idea where I belong.
She’s my home, the only real home I’ve ever had, the only home I’ve wanted to come back to since the day I left.
Without her, I have nothing.
Less than nothing.
Tears burn my eyes as the worst pain I’ve experienced yet attacks my heart, making it almost impossible to breathe. I can’t conceive of going on without her. She’s been my reason for living.
I haven’t shed a single tear since I lost my leg. Even during the painful rehab, I haven’t cracked. But this…
This guts me.
I wheel the chair to the table next to my bed and push the nurse call button, keeping the chair facing the windows so they won’t see my face or my tears.
“Hi there,” a nurse says cheerfully when she comes into my room a few minutes later. “What can I do for you, Captain West?”
“I’d like something for the pain, please.”
“I thought you weren’t accepting pain medication any longer.”
“I changed my mind.” I want to scream at her to get me the fucking pills, but I don’t. I somehow manage to contain myself. Just barely.
“I’ll be right back.”
She’s not gone long, but it feels like an eternity before she returns with a medicine cup full of relief. This time she comes around the bed, hands the cup to me along with a glass of water while taking a too-close look at my face.
I take the pills, chase them with the water and close my eyes to pray for respite from the grinding ache in my chest.
“Are you okay?” the nurse asks.
I nod.
“I like the haircut and shave. You look great.”
It was all for nothing if Ava doesn’t come. “Thank you.”
She squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll let you get some rest. Give a ring if you need anything else.”
I nod to let her know I’ve heard her. The only thing I want or need is the one thing she can’t get me.
Ava
I’m up all night, tossing, turning, pacing. One minute I’m positive I’ve made the right decision not to see John, and the next I’m questioning myself again. The facts run through my head like a movie I can’t escape:
He lost a leg.
He nearly died from blood loss.
He nearly died a second time from an infection.
He wants to see me.
After all he’s endured, how can I not honor his request?
But what about what I’ve endured? That counts for something, too.
And then I’m back to not going. For this minute, anyway.
Dawn peeks through the buildings that make up our neighborhood, a place where I’ve felt safe to get comfortable and start over. Where will John be comfortable now? Where will he start over?
God, I have to see him, even if it’s not in my best interest. I need to know he’s all right and that he’ll be all right. How will I ever have any peace to call my own until I reckon with the past?
I’m standing in front of the big windows that look toward the Hudson and New Jersey in the distance when Eric joins me, placing his hands on my shoulders and his chin on my head.
“Did you sleep at all?” he asks.
“No. You?”
“Not much. What’re you thinking?”
“That I have to see him, even though I probably shouldn’t.”
After a long pause, he says, “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
Three hours later, Eric and I are loaded onto a sleek military jet and preparing to depart from Teterboro.
We’ve been treated like VIPs, which is somewhat surprising.
I say as much to Muncie, who jumped into action as soon as Eric called him this morning.
I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger, so Eric took care of that as well as letting Trevor know I’ll be out of work and notifying our closest friends of where we’re going and why.
“You are VIPs,” Muncie says. “The Navy has instructed me to see to whatever Captain West needs.”
Before I can process that information or the fact that one of Captain West’s needs is me, my phone chimes with a text from Miles. You are in my thoughts as you make this difficult journey. Whatever happens, you have my love and support.
His words bring tears to my eyes, but then again, everything does. My emotions are so raw that when Eric made coffee for me, his unwavering kindness nearly made me cry. He can tell I’m on the razor’s edge between holding it together and falling apart.
When the pilot announces we’re next for takeoff, Eric takes my hand and holds on tight. As we lift into the air, I’d give anything to be on my way to work. There is so much to be said for a boring, routine day in which nothing out of the ordinary happens.
I no sooner have that thought than I immediately feel selfish.
So many people, including my dear friend Miles, would give anything to be able to see the people they lost on the ship as well as the military members who’ve died fighting Al Khad’s organization.
I recall the sales clerk at Bloomingdale’s, and how she touched the pin on her lapel that she wears in honor of her late parents.
I think of Dawkins and his tireless pursuit of justice on behalf of his daughter and son-in-law.
What they wouldn’t give for the chance I’ve been given.
I have no right to be undone by the opportunity to see John.
I need to celebrate it for the blessing that it is and take this moment to celebrate the great victory John helped to achieve for our country as well as those who lost loved ones on the ship and in the war.
I’ve nearly got myself convinced that it’ll all be fine. That I’ll be able to see him, talk to him, get answers to my many questions, thank him, maybe hug him and then go on with my life—my new life, the one I was forced to create for myself after he left and never came back.
Eric is so tense, his body is rigid in the seat next to mine. He stares straight ahead without blinking while chewing on the inside of his cheek, something he does when he has a lot on his mind.
I touch his face to let him know he’s doing it, and he offers a small smile of gratitude.
It always hurts after he does it, but he says he doesn’t know he’s doing it until it hurts.
I don’t want him to hurt, and this roller coaster I’ve been on since the night Al Khad was captured has hurt him.
It’s filled him with insecurities and concerns about me and our relationship—and I hate that for him.
I hate it for both of us, but mostly I hate it for him.
I want him to feel confident about me. We’re planning our wedding. This should be the happiest time of our lives, but here we are on a plane flying three thousand miles to confront my past. It’s too much to ask of anyone, especially someone who’s survived what he has.
“I hate that this is happening now,” I whisper so only he will hear.
“What do you mean?”
“This is supposed to be a happy time for us.”
He touches his index finger to my cheek. “I’m happy to be wherever you are.”
“You always know what to say to me.”
“Because I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I know you do, babe,” he says, sighing as he rests his head against the seat.
“Will you tell me how you’re feeling? The truth?”
“I’m kinda tired after a restless night.”
“And?”
“That’s about it.”