Four years ago

Got called in at the last minute :( Won’t be able to make it. I’m sorry.

The sounds of the airplane faded away as I read the text from my fiancée sent while I was in-flight. My stomach, already in knots from the anticipation of seeing her again after nine months, lurched, nausea overcoming me.

Not that I couldn’t get home without Emily, but I had been really fucking looking forward to seeing her face after everything that had happened since I left for Afghanistan.

The plane stopped moving, and there was a frenzy of movement and I stood, awkwardly stooped so my skull didn’t bash against the overhead compartments, making sure my left arm stayed firmly in its sling. My body buzzed from the plane ride, and there was a strange sense of finality that I couldn’t get over.

Twelve years in the army, six deployments and a gunshot wound to the shoulder later, and it was over. I was a civilian now, a veteran, something I never thought I’d be. But this last deployment had nearly wrecked my entire world, and I was finally coming home.

When it was finally my turn, I filtered into the aisle, following the line off the plane. Once in the terminal, I made my way to baggage claim, hardly paying attention to anything as I went. It was strange to be in an airport without my uniform on.

Leaving the military was like a bittersweet goodbye. There were many things I liked about the army - the rigidity of it, the constant comfort of knowing exactly what to do and when to do it. The ease of following orders and giving them. And, as of the last couple of years, the knowledge that I was working for something, or rather, someone, and creating a strong foundation for the family I wanted to have.

Standing in baggage claim, I regarded the people around me. I wondered if they had families to go home to. I wondered if they were here for a vacation, albeit an extremely cold one. The forecast was barely over 25 for the next week or so; I’d checked it before I came home.

I had nobody to come home to, because Emily got called in. Being a nurse meant she worked insane hours, but I couldn’t begrudge her it. She saved people’s lives and it was her passion. I just wished she was here with me now. Was that selfish?

It just wouldn’t feel like I was home until I saw her face, held her in my arms. Told her I was sorry.

After grabbing my duffel bag, I flagged a taxi, knowing it would be an expensive trip but not caring. I gave the driver my address and sat back, eyes to the sky as he drove.

At our apartment, I paid the cabbie and dug for my keys. The elevator was still broken, so I climbed up the stairs and stopped at my door.

I could hear banging down the hall in someone’s apartment, and from someone else’s, the low, thudding sound of music leaking through the thin walls. Someone nearby was shouting in Spanish, and I sighed.

Home sweet home.

Inside my own apartment, it was cold. I didn’t take my coat off and went to the thermostat immediately. It was set at 55 degrees.

Why would Emily do that? I turned it up, listening for the heat to kick on. When it did, I turned to head toward the bedroom.

The first thing I noticed was the pictures. Most of the art that Emily had hung was gone, and I puzzled at that for a moment. I set my duffel on the bed and realized that every single piece of decoration, all the stuff that Emily had bought in an effort to domesticate this shit Brooklyn apartment, was gone. It left the room sad and bare, something I never thought I’d think. I had never had a problem with the apartment before her.

I unzipped my bag, taking some socks and boxers and, going to the dresser, putting them in my drawer, which was tedious with only one arm. One of the knobs was still detached. It was one of those things I told her I would fix, but never did.

My eyes fixated on the blank walls again. Why had she taken them down? Was she replacing them with something else?

There was a picture of us in a frame on her nightstand, taken on our first date. I’d taken her to Coney Island, one of the most cliché places we could have gone, but I looked back on that memory fondly. I walked over to it, picking it up. Emily’s smile shined up at me from the picture, her eyes trained on the camera. Trained on me, now.

I had put her through so much. Being deployed this last time had almost ruined us. I was lucky I still had her at all.

Something pink on her nightstand caught my eye. A piece of paper, with something written on it. I set down the frame and picked it up.

I can’t do this anymore.

My mouth dried. My heart kicked into overdrive. I read the words over and over and over. I read them until they didn’t even look like words anymore.

On the nightstand, where the paper had been, was Emily’s engagement ring.

The heat being set to 55, the pictures and decorations being gone. Fuck, even her being called in.

She was never going to pick me up from the airport. She left me.

She left me?

I dropped the paper and blindly searched for my phone, finding it on the kitchen counter. I dialed her number, one of the only ones I knew by heart, and held the phone up to my ear. Hoping beyond hope that she would answer and giggle this all away.

“The number you dialed has been changed, disconnected, or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error…”

“No, no, no…” I mumbled, refusing to believe it. She had just messaged me. How could her number be different?

I dialed it again, my fingers fumbling.

“The number you have dialed has been changed…”

Tears sprang to my eyes at the cold and indifferent recording. I threw my phone across the room, not caring if I broke it. I slumped against the wall, rubbing my eyes and trying to calm my erratic breaths, forcing myself to evaluate the facts.

Emily left me.

I would never be able to tell her I was sorry.

This was all my fault.