Chapter Four #2
Salazar called down to them, “Too fuckin’ slow. I almost fell asleep up here! I think maybe we need a four-mile soft-sand conditioning run and some log PT before securing for the weekend.”
Shane’s stomach dropped to his toes. It was late Friday afternoon, and the weekends had become little oases of recovery and rest in a sea of exhaustion. A long conditioning run and a workout with the logs, which were actually huge chunks of old telephone poles, would take hours.
“Unless…” Salazar paused dramatically. “Unless Alphabet Soup here can complete the O-course with a new personal best and do twenty dead-hang lifts.”
A murmur passed through the assembled men as Matt went still.
“He has to do both. If he fails either task, then you’re all gonna be here past midnight, gentlemen.”
Dead silence while everyone watched for Matt’s response. He still hadn’t moved, but his eyes flicked over the O-course. At last he firmed his lips.
“Piece of cake.”
At those words loud cheers erupted. Several guys rushed to escort him to the start of the course, rubbing his shoulders and jostling him around like he was Rocky Balboa.
Shane winced. Matt was soaking wet and covered with sand, his boots squelching with water… Not a good scenario for setting a new personal best. As Salazar counted backward from ten, Matt closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths in and out, his lips moving soundlessly.
That’s it, Soup. Run through it mentally. Visualize every step, every handhold.
“Three…two…one. Execute!”
Matt exploded into action. The trainees went wild, waving their arms and running alongside as he leapt, climbed, and crawled.
Every move was smooth, and smooth really was fast; it was like watching a ballet.
Shane shouted in awe as Matt effortlessly scaled the rope Shane had just fallen from, reaching the top to do a Tarzan swing over to the cargo net.
When he neared the end of the course, the screaming escalated into a frenzy of “Soup! Soup! Soup!” Matt hit the sand at a dead run and ran to the pull-up bar, leaping to grab it. The men counted along. “One! Two! Go, Soup! Four! Yeah! Fuck yeah!”
At the triumphant shout of “Twenty!” Matt collapsed into the sand, chest heaving. Silence fell as the class breathlessly waited for the verdict, and when Salazar shouted, “You made it,” they all broke into loud cheers.
Matt jumped to his feet to be greeted with backslaps and head rubs, and Shane caught his breath at the sight of the open, devastating grin that lit up Matt’s whole face and made his eyes dance.
Wow.
“What’re you gonna do now that you’re the hero of our class?” Elias shouted as he grabbed Matt up in a bear hug and swung him around.
Matt slapped his back a few times before he pulled away, his teeth white in his sweaty, dirty face. “Just gonna enjoy feeling like a hero.”
* * *
There was still equipment to be washed off, boats to be rigged, and supply chits filled out before the class was secured for the weekend, but Matt was floating on air the whole time.
It was nice to see smiles on the faces of those who’d previously looked through him like he didn’t exist, and Matt basked in the approval and camaraderie, beyond relieved to be back in their good graces.
After their chores were finished, everyone filed into the classroom for one last debrief.
“Report.”
“Sixty-three men assigned, all present.”
“Well, that’s it for my part, gents,” Salazar said. “Thirty-nine have already decided this training is too much, that life in the teams isn’t for them. You still have a helluva long way to go, guys, but I think you’re ready.”
“Hooyah!”
“It’s been a tough three weeks, but lemme tell you, it’s only gonna get tougher. Days will be longer, there’s gonna be way more after-hours stuff, and you have to get everything done. If you don’t, believe me, you’ll pay for it.”
A tingle of anticipation went through Matt at the thought of the challenge to come.
“Hooyah!”
“I suggest y’all go home this weekend, make love to your wives and girlfriends, and kiss your kids, because as of 0500 on Monday, First Phase owns you. Drop.”
As they pushed ’em out, Salazar shouted, “Keep making me proud. I want to shake every single one of your hands at graduation, understand?”
“Hooyah!”
“Recover. You’re secured.”
With loud whoops, everyone rushed out to start their weekend.
Matt watched Shane dash eagerly on ahead.
Some of the married guys went home every night, no matter how late it was, in order to spend even a few hours with their families.
Others, like Shane, stayed in the barracks all week and only went home on the weekends.
His wife picked him up on Friday nights like clockwork, and Matt could see her now in the parking lot, pacing next to her car, the baby strapped into her seat in the back.
Married. Family man. Off-fucking-limits.
Matt sighed and made his way to his room, almost bumping into Shane on the stairs as he flew down them.
He was freshly showered and damp, his T-shirt clinging to him in several spots, jeans riding low.
Fuck it all, despite everything they’d been through and all the soul-searching Matt had done, his stupid heart still sped up at the sight of him.
“Have a good weekend, man,” he managed.
Shane flashed him a brilliant smile. “Thanks, I will.” He leaned against the railing for a moment, regarding Matt with a mischievous look in his eyes. “As of Monday we won’t be swim buddies anymore, will we?”
During the rest of First Phase the class would be divided into boat crews and would do everything as a crew. It was unlikely they’d be assigned together since boat crews were grouped by height.
“No, I guess not.”
“Well, I declare you the winner of our impromptu competition.” Shane reached out for a knuckle bump. “You crushed it, Soup.” With a wink, he pushed away from the railing and ran lightly down the stairs toward the parking lot, eagerness in every step.
Matt didn’t want to watch Shane’s tender reunion with his wife, so he turned his back and trudged toward his room. Doors were standing open and guys were calling out to each other as they made their plans.
“Hey, Soup! Wanna hit McP’s with us tonight?”
McP’s was an Irish pub in downtown Coronado that was known to be a team bar. Privately Matt didn’t think they’d earned the right to go there and drink with real Navy SEALs yet, so he declined the invitation.
Elias shrugged, and with a clap to Matt’s shoulder disappeared back into his room.
Matt unlocked his, loneliness sweeping over him at the sight of the empty half of it.
He hadn’t been assigned a new roommate yet and he suspected that was part of the reason Salazar had targeted him with the inspection stunt, to see if he’d call on his classmates to start building the foundation of teamwork that would be so sorely needed during BUD/S.
What had he done instead? Alienated the very guys he should have been gathering around him. Luckily Salazar had provided him a way to redeem himself with that O-course challenge, and thank Christ he’d been up to it.
He had a clean slate now. And he wasn’t gonna fuck it up again.
After a quick shower, Matt dressed and ran down to the parking lot, intending to drive somewhere and treat himself to dinner. As he made his way toward his beat-up old truck, he caught a glimpse of a figure slumped on a nearby bench, duffel at his feet.
What the hell?
Matt trotted over and stood in front of Shane. “Everything okay?”
Shane glanced up at him, a hollow look in his eyes. “Not really. Just had an epic fight with my sister.”
What?
“Your sister?” Matt’s voice went all high and squeaky. Shane quirked his lips at him inquiringly as Matt’s face burned. “This whole time I thought she was your wife,” he finished lamely.
Shane chuckled. “Fuck, no. Alexis is my younger sister.”
“Oh.” Matt shuffled his feet awkwardly. So the dude wasn’t married. That didn’t change a goddamn thing.
“I’m, uh, sorry you had a fight.”
“Thanks. Me, too.”
He should walk away now, but something about Shane’s dejected posture made him blurt, “I was gonna grab some chow off base. Wanna come?”
A look of surprise crossed Shane’s face, but he stood up without hesitation. “Sure.”
It was a long, silent walk to Matt’s truck, where Shane tossed his duffel into the bed before climbing into the passenger seat. The cab felt way too dark and intimate, Shane’s big body entirely too close. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Matt asked, “Any preferences on food?”
“Um, I know a great little street taco place over in IB, if that works for you.”
With a nod, Matt hung a right on the Strand toward the neighboring town of Imperial Beach. Shane gave quiet directions, and it wasn’t long until they were seated at an outdoor table with an icy cold bottle of Corona for Shane and a Coke for Matt.
Shane took a long pull of his beer and smacked his lips in satisfaction. “Nothing like a cold one after a stressful week, huh?”
Matt shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” Gah, could he be any more awkward?
A short silence before Shane tried again. “Where are you from?”
“North Dakota.”
With a raised eyebrow, Shane said, “Ah. You’re a landlubber.” When Matt nodded, he went on, “Had you ever seen the ocean before this? In person, I mean.”
“No.” He’d never forget his first sight of it, either, stretching off into the distance, the sheer power behind the waves crashing against the shore making him feel small and insignificant. “Is it that obvious?”
“Eh, you’re fine. You don’t panic, and that’s half the battle.”
Matt took a swallow of his Coke, welcoming the caffeine and sugar hit. “What about you? Where are you from?”
“Florida, a little place called Sanibel Island. Have you heard of it?”
“Sure.”
“My parents own a boating charter service there, so I grew up swimming and diving, both free and scuba.”
It was Matt’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Shit. No wonder you’re part fish.”