Marc – Day eleven

Over the course of the evening, the light rain came and went repeatedly without warning. The eave of the roof shielded us from most of it, but from time to time, a drop found its way to where we were sitting. As I gazed toward the ocean, I found the sporadic rain to be symbolic.

Taryn’s talk revealed that she had tremendous strength, which didn’t come as a big surprise. Her trust in me was a different issue altogether. I hoped it would come with time and exposure, and although it was something I would require of her, had no expectation of her expressing it so early.

Convincing myself to trust anyone was a struggle, and for good reason. Over the years, my confidence in people – all people – had diminished to nearly nothing. Nonetheless, I realized if our relationship was going to make any progress, I had to give as much as I expected to take.

“You’ve been here ten years, then?” I asked.

“Uh huh. Moved here when I was twenty-four.”

“To escape your ex, and all of the people who knew about his affair?”

“You know, that’s what I told myself.” She looked at me and then looked away. “But in being honest with myself, I’m thinking I really came out here running away from the other thing. From the wreck. My parent’s death. The lie. My sister doesn’t even know.”

“Do you only have the one sibling?”

“Yeah. She’s still in Oklahoma. You?”

“Only child.”

“Parents?”

“My mother’s a professional shopper, and--”

“Really?”

“Not as a profession, she just passes her time by shopping.”

She giggled. “Oh.”

“My father is the Chief of Police. They live in Portland, Oregon.”

She shot me a surprised look. “Your dad’s a cop?”

I gave a nod. “Police Chief.”

An audible sigh shot from her lungs. “Oh wow.”

I turned to face her. “Have something against cops?”

“Uhhm. I mean, kind of but not really. No. I guess not.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m just scared of them. After the accident. I just. I’ve got this fear that one day they’re going to come get me. It might seem weird, but I think about it all the time. I almost obsess about it. When there’s one behind me in traffic, I get all tense. It’s pretty bad. I think I do obsess about it.”

“So, you fear retribution, but have nothing against the police, in general?”

“I guess so. Yeah.”

It was comforting to hear that she didn’t have some deep-seated resentment toward police officers for some reason. I turned toward the beach and gazed blankly into the darkness for a few minutes, trying to decide how to start.

Discussing my past wasn’t something I’d done with another woman. Not having been in a relationship since my ugly breakup left me no reason to. I hadn’t even told my parents the truth about why Shelby and I split up, only that it happened as a result of me being away.

As much as doing so troubled me, I decided to take the advice of Lewis Carroll’s King in Alice in Wonderland.

Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end: then stop.

“Three of us were gathering intelligence in the Helmand province. We’d been in hiding behind a few large boulders in a valley at the base of a mountain for three days. Taliban soldiers began to show up a few hundred feet from where we were, and they continued coming for two days. So, there we were, surrounded. We rationed our food, knowing we could be stuck for a few more days. The three days turned into a week. It seemed they were using our location as a compound. Exhausted, short on water, and out of food, we knew we had to do something.”

I let out a sigh. From a combat standpoint, the events of that day were noteworthy, but it wasn’t the most significant of all the missions I’d been on. It was, however, a turning point in my life.

“We called for evac, and scheduled our pick up for the next morning. We planned on getting to the other side of the mountain, and knew in the shape we were in, we’d need twelve hours to get there. If we could get there.”

She looked at me and swallowed hard. I forced a smile and turned toward the beach.

“Think of a pie, and what it would look like if you took one small sliver of a slice out. The pie that remains was where they were. The slice was our only way out. Halfway between our position and the base of the mountain, we were spotted. It got ugly, and it got ugly quick--”

“How many of them were there?” she asked.

“A hundred or so.”

Her eyes went wide. “And there were three of you?”

I nodded.

“Oh. My God. Obviously, they got you out, though. I mean, you’re here.”

I somehow managed to laugh. “The day we were to be evac’d, I got shot. Four hours after we pulled out of their compound.” I pressed my hand against my thigh, directly below the wound. “Trapp got shot twice, and Big Gus had more bullet holes in him than I could count.”

“I’m so…did they…did they live?”

“The three of us did. More than I can say for the rest of my platoon, though. They shot down the evac chopper with an RPG as it was landing. Half the platoon was killed in the explosion. The three of us were stuck on the side of that mountain for another 24 hours, but we held our ground.”

I realized how emotional I’d become while telling the story. Every hair follicle was raised and my hands were shaking, but it was the tears that I didn’t expect. Weeping for my fallen teammates wasn’t something I’d taken the time to do.

I wasn’t able to attend the traditional funeral service, or participate in the pounding of the trident onto the coffin. I realized as I sat there and wept that I never took the time to acknowledge their deaths, or to let them go.

I leaned out from underneath the overhang far enough to allow the rain to fall onto my face. Each falling drop helped mask what I was feeling, and I welcomed them. I silently said each of their names, paying respect to them for their sacrifice.

Little Smith.

Tremont.

Gus.

Wilson.

Patterson.

Hart.

Sweeney.

Carson.

Eventually, she broke the silence and brought me back to reality.

“I can’t imagine how three men could fight against a hundred. That’s amazing,” she said. “I’m sorry about your friends, though.”

“So am I. We understood the risk when we signed up, though.”

“Luckily, we recovered a dozen Kalashnikovs from men we had killed. We spent the night taking shifts. One man would sleep for an hour while the other two took position and fired at opposition. Our constant repositioning, and the changing of weapons from our M4s to the Kalashnikovs kept them wondering just how many of us there were. By the grace of God, we held them off. The next morning, we got CAS from a couple of F-18s and an A-10.”

“CAS?” she asked. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Close Air Support. Airplanes flew over and dropped bombs.”

I recalled the elation I felt when the airstrike happened. In circumstances such as ours, airstrikes don’t always go as planned. Ours, however, was spot on. Seeing the devastation to our opposition gave the three of us the energy to make it to the extraction site.

“Energized by the airstrike, we got to the new extraction site. When that bird landed…when the skids touched down?”

I swallowed hard. The emotion of that day, of that extraction, and of that mission, all of a sudden returned. The odor of our adrenalin-laced sweat and chopper filled with blood replaced the smell of the beach and of the falling rain.

Incapable of continuing, I extended my right hand and gave the thumbs up.

After taking a minute to recompose myself, I drew a breath and continued. “I was taken to a hospital in Germany. It was the second time I’d been shot. It wasn’t that bad. In and out the front of my thigh. They sent what was left of my team to be with another team until they could reassign some men. I got one week of leave, and came home unexpectedly.”

I clenched my jaw muscles and looked away. I needed to continue, but doing so was a reminder that although I told myself I wasn’t resentful about what happened, I obviously was. I was something, that much was certain.

I decided I was simply hurt.

What happened was beyond my control. To think for one minute that what my girlfriend did was a result of something I had done – or failed to do – was preposterous.

“I didn’t tell her I was coming home. She didn’t know about the mission, or about my injury. I never told her about the bad, only the good. It was best that way. There was a truck in the driveway when I pulled in, and I got that feeling in my gut. You know, the one that you can’t deny?”

I looked at Taryn.

She rested her hand on my knee. “I do.”

“I didn’t announce my arrival.” I forced a laugh, and it sounded like it. “I snuck in. They were in bed together. I don’t know how long it was going on, but I didn’t really care. We weren’t married, but we’d been together five years. I moved out that day. Put all my stuff in storage, and stayed abroad for five more years. It took that long for me to feel like I could come home. So, for what it’s worth, I know what it feels like to be cheated on.”

She inched closer.

I draped my arm over her shoulder, and pulled her into me. Silently, we stared toward the beach. I’d always told myself if I somehow ended up with someone who had been cheated on in the past, that they’d never do to me what was done to them. My belief was that anyone who felt the pain associated with the betrayal of being cheated on certainly wouldn’t want to impose that upon their significant other.

I glanced over my shoulder.

She did the same.

“Do you like malts?” I asked.

She coughed a laugh. “What? Malts?”

“Chocolate malts? Milk, ice cream, malted milk. You know, a malt.”

“I haven’t had one in forever. Yeah. They’re pretty good, why?”

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go inside. I’ll make us a malt.”

We stood in unison, and when we did, she turned to face me.

“A malt sounds good, really,” she said.

I could only suspect that her feelings mirrored my own. I knew a malt wouldn’t fix either of us, but I’d never had a chocolate malt worsen my mood, I knew that much for sure.

She looked in my eyes. I held her gaze for some time, wanting both of us to feel better about everything, but knowing what heartache we felt wasn’t going to miraculously vanish. The sacrifice we’d each made in our brutally honest revelations was a huge step in understanding each other’s pasts.

I reached for her chin, lifted it, and leaned toward her.

Her eyes fell closed.

I kissed her softly, but as passionately as I’d ever kissed anyone.

It wasn’t planned, it simply happened. I wouldn’t change it if I were able, though. Kissing her told me everything I needed to know.

Everything.