Peyton

Two weeks and five sessions of EMDR therapy later, and I was feeling better than I ever believed could have been possible. One eighty-dollar suction cup seat later, and my ass was in heaven. I felt like kidney-punching Navarro as he leisurely rolled down the street for keeping me in the dark about the possibility of a comfortable ride.

We rode along Mission Beach Boulevard after our fish taco dinner, and the ride was a completely different experience altogether. The new seat made riding much more pleasurable. I thought I liked it before, but riding without having my teeth jarred with each bump was allowing me to enjoy everything around us.

I peered beyond the boardwalk and fixed my eyes on the beach. It was late in the evening, and although the sun wasn’t setting yet, the low clouds on the horizon seemed to be reaching for the orange ball of fire as it descended toward the ocean.

Seeing the beach, ocean, and soon to be setting sun while riding on my new seat took me to a place I hadn’t been since I was a little girl. I tapped Navarro on the shoulder and leaned forward. “Can you pull over?”

“We’ll hit Belmont,” he said.

“Okay.”

After a few more wonderful minutes of riding, he turned into Belmont Park and came to a stop. I pulled off my helmet, climbed off the bike, and waited for him to get off. Instead of hopping off in a rush like he normally did, he gazed toward the beach for a moment, and then looked right at me.

“Got any plans tonight?”

I hung my helmet on the handlebars and shook my head. “No, why?”

“Want to just sit here and watch the sunset?”

It seemed like an odd question, coming from Navarro. I had hoped that he’d pull over and allow me a few minutes to sit and watch the clouds transform from white marshmallow puffs to picturesque brush strokes of oranges and pinks as they encompassed the sun.

Actually witnessing the sunset, especially with him, seemed like a dream come true.

“I’d love to,” I said.

He hung his helmet on the handlebars. I waited for his usual five-steps-ahead I’m bigger and badder than you stroll, but he stepped to my right side and waited.

“You ready?” he asked.

I took advantage of the situation, and of him. I gripped his left arm in hand and prepared for his refusal. His eyes met mine, then he looked ahead like nothing had happened. After a few steps, I felt guilty, and released his arm. I really wanted to know if he was going to tell me to get the fuck off of him or if he’d somehow manage to find a way to allow me to touch him.

Knowing he wasn’t going to browbeat me over it was nice.

After a few steps, he reached for my wrist, tucked my arm inside of his, and continued walking. No eye contact, no spoken words, just a gentle gesture by a man who probably didn’t have a gentle bone in his body.

I fought against my urge to grin, not wanting him to know just how special he was making me feel. I realized we were nothing more than associates, but having someone understand exactly when to act like a human wasn’t a common occurrence in the world any longer, and I knew it.

I accepted his offer of kindness and wore an internal smile all the way to Oceanfront Walk. A thigh-high concrete wall separated the walkway from the beach, and when we reached it, we both naturally stopped.

I wondered if he planned on standing there or actually going down to the beach. About the time I decided to ask, he turned to face me.

“You gonna step over that fucker, or you want me to toss you over it?”

I spread my feet shoulder width apart, and gave him my best fighting stance pose. “If you think you’re big enough.”

For that fleeting moment, I had forgotten that he possessed the skills of a ninja. He reminded me really quick of it, though.

In one effortless move, he picked me up and flipped me over his shoulder and onto the other side of the wall. Somehow, while doing so, he retained control, and lowered me to the ground on the other side.

More than likely some instructional judo move he learned in preparation for combat. No matter how he came to learn it, I was impressed. With him on one side of the wall and me now on the other, I stood there and grinned.

“More soldier bullshit?”

“Soldier?” he snapped. His eyes quickly thinned to slits.

Oh fuck, I hit a nerve.

I prepared for an evening-ending argument.

“Soldier? For fucks sake. You think I was a soldier?”

Not now, no.

He wasn’t just acting like he was insulted, he was insulted. I didn’t know what else to do, so I shrugged.

“United States Navy. SEAL Team One. I wasn’t a fucking ground pounder,” he barked.

My throat constricted, my mouth went dry, and my pussy started tingling. All at the same time.

I swallowed hard. “You were a SEAL?”

He inhaled a deep breath and glared. After a forced sigh, he shook his head. “Some fucking reporter you are.”

He hopped over the wall. “Come on, shit-for-brains, let’s go watch the sunset.”

We walked down to within a few feet of where the ocean met the land and sat down. The sound of the waves washing ashore was calming, and exactly what I needed. One benefit of having an outlaw biker accompany me to the beach was that most people – upon seeing his kutte and tattoos – decided to move further away, leaving us with our own little private spot.

“Thank you.”

He shot me a look. “For what?”

“This.”

He shrugged. “Used to do this when I was a kid. We didn’t live very far from the beach. It’s nice thinking back to when I was a kid. Before things went to shit.”

I wondered just what he meant by before things went to shit. Eventually, curiosity won the battle, and I proceeded to offer him an even trade. My when things went to shit in trade for his.

“When I was eight, my mother went to get some things from the store. My two brothers and I were at school. There was a pileup on the freeway, and she was sitting there waiting on traffic. They said the guy was going seventy or so when he hit the car behind her.”

He touched my hand. I looked right at him, and he looked back. We shared a moment with our eyes locked, and then I continued.

“She didn’t make it home. They said she wasn’t in pain though. I guess it broke her neck. At least that’s what they told us. That was when things went to shit for me.”

He decided to sit down, and pulled against my wrist as he lowered himself to the sand. We sat side by side with his hand touching my wrist lightly. Just enough that I knew it was there, but I didn’t look.

He stared out at the ocean for some time. All the while, he seemed to be doing breathing exercises. In through the nose and out through the mouth, which I never really noticed before. The sound of it became comforting, so instead of disturbing him, I just decided to watch the clouds change color.

“She looked about your age.” His eyes were fixed on the beach. “That’s what I told myself when I saw her. Twenty-five. I remember thinking that.”

If it took him fifteen minutes to develop the courage to speak, I knew better than to look at him. I simply nodded and continued to watch the clouds transform into a rainbow of colors.

“We’d just cleared a building that was filled with insurgents. They were assembling the IED’s that were blowing up our troops. A bomb making facility. I stepped around the corner, and there she was. Our eyes locked. She looked worried there for a second, and I figured she was just scared. Hell, everyone was scared. She must have seen it in my eyes. The relaxation, or the tension leaving. I don’t know. But she saw something.”

He turned his head away from me and I heard him spit. He looked back at the horizon, but I didn’t turn toward him, I could see him out of my peripheral.

“Whatever she saw let her know I was no longer a threat. She relaxed. I relaxed. We pressed on. Maybe ten meters. And then I saw it. She started to raise a Kalashnikov. It wasn’t a choice. It was a combination of training and experience.”

He didn’t have to say it. My heart sank for him. I lifted my hand and placed it on top of his.

Our hands touched, and he looked at me. The skin under his eyes was swollen, but he wasn’t crying. More than anything else, he seemed exhausted. “She was twelve.”

He must have seen it in my eyes.

The shock.

I didn’t respond.

He looked out at the horizon. “I shot a twelve-year-old girl. You want to know the sad thing?”

I fought to swallow, and once again, didn’t respond. The silence encouraged him enough to continue. Either that, or he simply needed to say it.

“If I hadn’t shot her, she would have shot me or one of my team members. If I had to do it all over again, I’d do it the same way. Sad, but it’s true.”

“I’m sorry,” I somehow managed to say.

I squeezed his hand for sincerity’s sake.

“So, I came home from the war. I’d been fighting in one place or another for fifteen fucking years, and I was ready to settle down. I tried to get a VA loan for a house.” He turned toward me and shook his head.

“They denied me. The motherfuckers put me in a position where I had to kill a fucking pre-teen girl, then denied my government home loan because I had insufficient credit. Tell me how the fuck I was supposed to get credit when I was busy fighting for this country’s fucking freedom?”

I’m so sorry.

“Anyway. That’s when things went to shit for me.”

He looked away, obviously upset, but not angry. I was upset too, with our government. I turned toward the setting sun, but left my hand on top of his. He didn’t object. Not in the least.

In a few moments, the sky illuminated. It was a glorious display of the most magnificent colors I had ever seen. Slowly, the sun lowered itself into the water.

Together, Navarro and I watched it happen. While we held hands.

On the beach.