I excused myself to go to the bathroom so that I could freshen up for dinner. It was at the end of a long hallway and huge, with a double sink. I walked to the sink, turned the water on, and started splashing my face.
The warm water splashing on my face reminded me of when I was in the SEALS. The last time that I had splashed water on my face like that was the day that we were preparing to go up on that fateful flight.
I could feel the nausea wash over me again like I was standing in the barracks all over again. The stench of dried up vomit on my shirt kept wafting up into my nose, making me nauseous over and over again.
Snap out of it, I told myself. I was sick and thought that maybe it had been from something I had eaten. But what if it wasn't? What if I was just experiencing a bad case of nerves? What if I was such a coward that the very thought of going up in the air on that mission was enough to make my stomach weak? If that were the case I knew that I would never hear the end of it.
"Are you alright in there?" came the voice of my commanding officer as he pounded hard on the door.
"Yeah," I managed to say, wiping my mouth as I tried to stand up taller. Somehow I thought that standing up taller would make it all go away, like I could will my nausea away. I quickly dismissed this idea as I ran to the toilet again and empty the remains of what was left over in my belly.
I cursed myself for being so weak, so afraid and sickly.
When I was younger, I spent a lot of time in the hospital with stomach issues. My mother was convinced that I was having imaginary pain because I would stay in the hospital for weeks at a time, only for the doctors to tell me that they didn't know what was wrong with me. She thought that either it was my imagination or that I was somehow making myself sick.
I was starting to think that maybe she was right.
"Well, when you finish up, I need you to do a final check of the aircraft."
"Yes, sir," I called out weakly. I splashed water on my face one last time and walked out to the helicopter. I felt like the room was spinning and I was walking on clouds. My legs felt like they were going to give out at any minute. Another recruit noticed me and gave me a worried look.
"You alright? You don't look too good," he said.
"I'm fine," I barked back.
"Don't worry, Elijah," said Harlow, walking toward the helicopter with a group of other SEALS. "If you get scared, we can always bring you a teddy bear along for you to hug and squeeze." He started making crying sounds and sucking his thumb. The rest of the guys laughed. They made a few other baby jokes and then left the barrack to get ready for the mission.
I laughed with them, but a large part of me felt bad that they were making fun of me. I didn't say anything though, because that would have only made them rip into me even more. Instead, I focused on trying to take in enough air to make my nausea go away. I wanted to be well enough to go up in the air so they wouldn't have a reason to make fun of me.
When I finally realized my nausea wasn't going to go anywhere, I knew that I had to tell my commanding officer the bad news… that I wasn't going to be able to go on the mission. In my mind, I thought that I would just sit this one out and be ready to fly the next one.
"The aircraft is in perfect condition, sir," I reported to him, saluting him and standing at attention. "Unfortunately, I am not in a position to operate said machinery. I am requesting leave for this mission as I am not feeling physically up to par."
"You got the shits soldier," said my commanding officer.
"No sir. It's coming out of the other end."
My commanding officer took a step back and covered his mouth as if he were trying to protect himself from catching whatever it is that I had.
"It’s probably a mild case of food poisoning sir," I told him. "I expect that I will be feeling fine by morning and ready to join the team on the next mission."
I had no clue there would be a great tragedy, that lives would be lost… that I would never go on another mission…ever!
I looked at myself long and hard in the mirror as I stood in the bathroom at Darren and Hope's.
I thought about Michelle's words, then how freeing it was to tell her the truth about what had happened. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of me, one that I didn't realize had been weighing me down all these years.
Maybe I should tell them the truth about what happened all those years ago, I thought. I wasn't sure what they thought about me after I left the SEALS. I wasn't in contact with anyone afterward to find out. This was actually my first time seeing any of them since before the accident. Whatever they thought or felt I could find out now. Good or bad, at least I would know the truth. And besides, like Michelle said, maybe it was all in my head and they didn’t think poorly of me. Maybe they would hear my side of the story and understand.
Either way, I was ready to tell my truth, to get it off of my chest, and move on with my life. Whatever the future held, I hoped that it would turn out for the better… and hoped that Michelle would be included in that brighter future.