Ask Me Again

by E. J. Noyes

  Jana stared at the pizza box then pushed it aside. “How’s work?”

  The question drew me away from my introspection. “The wrong side of hectic.” I didn’t mind. Being busy helped keep my mind away from the loneliness.

  “Anything exciting happening?”

  “The usual gunshots, stabbings and car accidents. Oh, actually no, I did have something interesting today. An MVA where the steering wheel broke and the impact threw the driver forward onto the column. It was still embedded in—”

  “No! I don’t want to know.” Both her hands came up palms out, fingers splayed wide in the biggest STOP gesture she could make. “I’m sorry I asked.”

  I smiled into my champagne. “Almost got it past you.” Jana hated gore and it had become a game to see how much detail she’d listen to before cutting me off. I also hoped that telling her some of the realities of the people passing through my trauma unit might scare her into moderating her driving a little—she’d look right at home on an Indy 500 track—but after all this time, it seemed a lost cause.

  The MVA was an interesting case. It’d taken me and my team hours to remove the shaft then repair the damage, and I’d thought how much I would have liked Sabine’s steady hands working alongside mine. We often spoke about our cases during this deployment, and if I’d wanted to I could pretend it was just like when we actually worked together. Almost…because being without her was a constant dull ache that no amount of make-believe would ever dispel.

  After Jana and I finished dinner and cleaned up, we relocated to the den to watch mindless television and talk about mindless things. The date she had tomorrow night, Sabine’s homecoming, whether Jana really needed a dog. Most of the bottle ended up in my glass and when nine o’clock rolled around, Jana stretched, her toes pointed like a dancer. Her nails were still the delicate pink from our day at the spa last week. “I’d better get home.”

  “Not staying?” She had a room here in case of emergencies. Like too much wine.

  “Ugh, no. I wish I could, but I need to file a brief tomorrow and if I stay here we’re going to open that expensive bottle of scotch you’re saving for Sabbie.” Jana sprung to her feet and wasted no time putting her heels back on—they really were very nice—and gathering her coat, handbag and briefcase in a whirlwind.

  “You know all you need to do is come around, and you can share it. Maybe we can open it up this weekend. The three of us.” The thought made my stomach flutter with excitement. We were so close to normality.

  “Mhmm, sounds good.” Jana flicked the collar of her coat up. “I guess she’ll call me when she’s settled.”

  “I’m sure she will.” Probably before she’d settled if I knew Sabine. I wouldn’t be surprised if she asked me to stop at her sister’s office in the city on the way home from the base. The thought of being in a car, doing something as mundane as driving with my girlfriend sent another surge of excitement through me.

  “I can’t wait to see her,” Jana said quietly, pulling open the door.

  “Me either…” In the open doorway, I embraced her tightly. “Thanks for coming over. Drive safely.”

  “Will do. I’ll talk to you guys really soon!” Jana released me with a cheerful, “Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  She squeezed my shoulders then strode to the brand-new silver Mercedes she’d only had a month, parked in the driveway. Clearly, messy divorces did pay well. When she’d reversed out and driven away at her usual terrifyingly excessive speed, I went back inside to tidy up.

  I ran a cloth over the counter, lingering and smiling to myself as my thoughts flickered briefly to the first night I’d been here, two years ago. Before that, for over eighteen years, I’d worked within an institution that made me suppress a part of myself and I’d always felt pride in my discretion and incredible willpower. Then the first time we’d operated together, Sabine had torn it all down with a lame joke and a sheepish, helpless look.

  She’d slowly stripped away every bit of self-control I had until I’d broken down, acted against protocol and come to this house during recreation leave. When I’d knocked on Sabine’s door it wasn’t as her superior officer, but as a woman wanting a lover. We’d danced around the inevitable until I’d shed my clothes, hopped onto this very counter, opened my legs to her and begged. We’d devoured each other for most of the night and the next day, and every day we’d been together since only strengthened my conviction that I’d done the right thing for us.

  After one last check to make sure the house was locked up, I turned out the lights and climbed upstairs. The champagne had dulled me to a pleasant sort of inebriation and I wondered if I might actually fall asleep in a reasonable amount of time, rather than lying awake thinking of everything I had to do the next day. It was wishful thinking. I’d always been prone to insomnia—a consequence of being on call—but with Sabine away it had increased. I’d been subsisting on around four hours a night, supplemented with naps in on-call rooms.

  I pulled on one of Sabine’s old tees and climbed under the covers. After an hour, I was still running through mental lists. Finish cleaning the house, grocery shopping, brush the cat and make the bowtie I was going to sneak onto him, plan meals. The other side of my insomnia was because I hadn’t heard from her in a few days. I knew firsthand how hectic the last days of deployment were but still, I worried.

  Rationally, I knew that if something had happened, we’d have been notified. I’d made that exact call to her parents and my stomach still churned whenever I thought about it. Even more rationally, I knew that the chance of Sabine, a member of AMEDD, the Army Medical Department, being involved in anything dangerous was unlikely. She’d already defied probability once. Twice was unthinkable.

  I closed my eyes and pictured the moment when Sabine would be back in our house. A pleasant warmth bloomed in my chest, spreading through my body and bringing a comforting lightness. I relished the thought of just being able to breathe again. Her return wasn’t even about the physical side of her being here, though I missed intimacy more with every passing day.

  I couldn’t wait to see her face, to reacquaint myself with her features and learn those new things that would have changed, which would be almost imperceptible to anyone else. To watch her long eyelashes cast shadows over those glorious cheekbones, and the freckles spreading to the straight bridge of her nose. After so much time where we couldn’t acknowledge what we wanted, and having spent so little time together, I still marveled at the physicality of her. Everything symmetrical and proportionate. Knowing Sabine and her demand for self-perfection, she’d probably spent her time as a fetus forcing her body to grow with straight angles and complementary features.

  I couldn’t help reveling in her lithe, strong body. To let myself be lost in eyes so dark they were almost black. To enjoy the touch of her hands, a little larger than mine and always punctuating the air when she spoke. I could spend hours kissing full lips, so frequently lifted in a smile or a grin, and listening to her deliciously husky voice. I never tired of running my tongue over her small breasts or the tightly muscled planes of her body.

  If I loved the physical, then I worshipped her intellectual and emotional aspects, all that simultaneously pleased yet confounded me. I would spend my life studying her, trying to work out the intricacies that made her her, and I’d never grow tired of it. She could be so serious and strict, and then turn around and laugh or joke about something most people wouldn’t find funny. Sabine held herself to impossible standards, but forgave almost every shortcoming in those she held close. She was a perfectionist in every aspect of her life and I loved her more than I could ever put into words.

  I loved the way she’d appear seemingly out of nowhere to ask me something or just tell me of something funny she’d just seen. Her intricate stacking of the dishwasher and how she’d give me that look when I stacked it wrongly. The way she always parked her car against the garage wall with millimeters to spare so I’d have plenty of room for mine. He
r one-sided conversations with the cat. Her laughter. I opened my eyes again, imagining that sound. Without it, the house seemed empty and stale.

  At FOB Invicta Military Hospital in Afghanistan, despite us living and working in the worst of circumstances, I’d rarely had a day without hearing her laugh or make a joke—always dry and quick-witted. I would hear her distinctive voice and laughter bouncing through the barracks or hospital as I sat in my office, and the sound would have me stop what I was doing to listen until she was out of earshot. And I’d wish that I knew what had fueled her mirth, or even more pathetically, I would wish it was me making her laugh.

  A low throb in my depths brought me back to the present and I considered sliding a hand under the sheet. But I didn’t want that impersonal solo release, not when she’d be home so soon. I pushed my remembrances aside and shifted my focus to tomorrow. Clean the house, change the sheets, buy groceries, mow the lawn, choose lingerie…

  When I woke, I couldn’t figure out what had roused me, but after lying quietly for half a minute, the reason became terrifyingly clear. In the still night came the unmistakable sound of movement downstairs. Soft, steady footsteps made their way up the stairs and along the hallway. I fumbled on the bedside table for my glasses and reached for my phone, thumb playing over the screen to unlock it. 11:16 p.m.

  The gun, locked in our closet safe, was no more than ten steps away but it might as well have been ten miles. We had been a gun-free household, but Sabine insisted that while she was gone I should have a handgun for protection. Given her overall anxiety, I acquiesced. After my time in the military I was more than comfortable with firearms. D.C. was much safer than it used to be, and I never actually expected to have to use one in this capacity.

  I flung the covers aside, slid stealthily from the bed and started backing quietly toward the closet. The footsteps paused, then the partially-open bedroom door cracked open further. Despite my panic, and my thumb readying to dial 9-1-1, I couldn’t help myself, whispering hopefully, “Jana? Is that you?”

  The door opened further and a dull thud of something being dropped on the wooden floor echoed through the room. “Almost, but not quite.”

  I would have known that voice anywhere. In my dreams or awake. Under water, from across a desert or crowded room. Most importantly, I knew it from where it spoke fifteen feet away. The light flicked on, illuminating the best thing in my life.

  She was dressed in her ACU, and though she would have been traveling for at least twenty-four hours the combat uniform was immaculate. Her smile was both cocky and shy, and her dark eyes studied me with intensity. She rubbed the back of her neck, then raised her hand in an uncertain gesture. “Hey, honey. I’m home.”

  It took only two seconds to cross the room and the moment I was in reach, Sabine grabbed me and pulled me against her body. I let out a choked sob, wrapping my arms tightly around her waist as she held me. God how I’d missed her hugs. She loved hugging, and hugged hard and with her whole body, like she was trying to transfer love through osmosis. I buried my face in her neck, unable to stop the tremor in my arms. Her grip eased fractionally before she bent her head to kiss me.

  She tasted like her spearmint gum, smelled exactly the way I remembered and felt like the safest place I’d ever been. I couldn’t hold her close enough, couldn’t touch enough of her and couldn’t quite believe she was really here. “Why didn’t you tell me you were back today?” I asked through my tears.

  She pulled away slightly, wiped the moisture from under my eyes and grinned a trademark Sabine grin—a little crooked, and so bright it was like the world had been in shadow before. “I wanted to surprise you. I’m sorry it’s late and you’re already in bed.” Her normally husky voice was even rougher with an edge of gravel, breaking on words the way it always did when she was tired.

  I laughed through my tears. Of all the things to apologize for. With my hands running up and down her arms, I soothed her. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

  “And I’m gross. I haven’t showered since I left Afghanistan, and I was going to get flowers, but I couldn’t find the right ones.” She was over-explaining, trying to justify why she wasn’t here at the time or in the way she’d wanted. It was so Sabine, trying explain what she deemed a lack of perfection and being blinded by the fact that all I cared about was that she was here. “And I—”

  “Darling, I don’t care. I don’t care if you haven’t showered or brushed your teeth or hair or whatever. I love you, and I am so happy you’re here.” I took her face in my hands and kissed her again.

  Sabine reached up to grasp my wrists gently, the way she always did when I held her face and kissed her. This simple familiar action brought a fresh round of tears. Kissing her felt like that first sweet intake of breath after leaping into a pool. As she held me, kissed me softly, I realized how relieved I was at her sudden appearance. If I’d had time to think and prepare all day tomorrow and the next morning, I would have been nervous about how to interact with her. About what to say, what to do. This was pure instinct.

  Her forehead rested against mine, her voice thick with emotion. “Bec, I have spent the past ten months thinking of what I would say to you when this moment finally happened and now I can’t fucking remember any of it.” Sabine shrugged helplessly and her voice wavered. “Except that I love you. And I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Me too,” I managed to say around the hard lump in my throat.

  “Look at me.” Sabine lifted my chin with a forefinger, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I love you,” she said again. Then her lips were on my neck and my cheek before they found my mouth again. We kissed like kissing was sustenance. We kissed like being together was the only thing keeping us alive. Now that she was home, and in my arms—it was.

  Chapter Three

  Sabine

  The blaring alarm jolted me from deep sleep. Incoming casualty alert! Adrenaline tightened my stomach, the anticipation of hours of surgery displacing my lingering just-woken grogginess. At any moment, a message would blast across the base calling the FOB personnel to attention.

  But it never came.

  Grasping the sheets in tight fists I sat up, battling my confusion. The bed was too big, the sheets too soft and the duvet thick and warm. And I was naked. I cast a panicked gaze around the sunlit room until my eyes fell upon the dresser with photographs lined up neatly atop it. My sister and parents. That photo I loved of Bec and me at my cousin’s wedding last summer. Vacations in California and Canada. Titus in cute cat poses.

  Home. You’re home, Sabine.

  The car alarm down the street shut off abruptly, but the discomfort of waking up in a strange place remained. I gave myself a mental wrist slap. The bed you share with your girlfriend is not a strange place. An exploratory hand to my right told me the bed was empty of said girlfriend. Unsurprising at…shit, almost nine thirty in the morning.

  I rolled over and buried my face in Bec’s pillow, breathing in her scent. Almost immediately my discomfort dissipated. All those months away, I thought I’d remembered the way she smelled, looked and sounded in the flesh. But memories were nothing compared to the real thing, to seeing her and touching her. Kissing her.

  Last night came rushing back. After I’d finally come in a little after eleven, I’d taken a long, soothing shower before Bec took me to bed. Hot, frantic foreplay had promised even hotter sex but for the first time ever, I’d felt disconnected from it. Disconnected from her.

  I’d wanted her so much, and my body responded with exactly the same excitement it always did, yet something in my brain kept glitching. I just couldn’t get past how scared I was. Scared she’d find my scant, hard post-deployment body unattractive, scared she hadn’t missed me that way and was just humoring me. Scared that I wouldn’t be able to climax because I was so worried about everything. Just…scared.

  I’d never had this issue coming home before. After my first deployment when I was still with my ex, we’d barely made it through the door before cl
othing was removed and hands and lips were on skin. But that relationship was so different to the one I had with Bec, so surely it wasn’t unreasonable to expect this homecoming to be different too? Surely there wasn’t anything wrong with us. It had to be me, my issue, because Bec seemed the same as always.

  I wondered if she’d known there was something not quite right. With my face still in her pillow I replayed last night, lingering on each look and touch, the needy words whispered with urgency, Bec sliding down my body to—

  Wait.

  Bec sliding down me to…to…

  I drew a complete blank.

  Oh shit. I hadn’t, had I? I sprung from bed, hastily pulled on clothes, snagged my Uggs from my still-unpacked kit bag and rushed downstairs. “Bec?”

  The cat regarded me warily, sprinting down the hallway the moment I got close. No big deal, Titus. I’m only the one who rescued you from the shelter, you ungrateful shithead. The kitchen and dining room looked much the same as they had when I’d left, except now we had a different fruit bowl and complicated-looking toaster. New photos on the fridge, mostly ones Mitch had taken of me in scrubs or uniform over there. Clean dishes in the drainer and the half-full coffee pot on its warmer told me she was here. Somewhere.

  “Bec?” I tried again, a little louder this time.

  She emerged from the den and I felt the familiar quickening of my heartbeat that happened when I saw her for the first time each day. The emotion intensified, filling my chest until I thought I might choke on my love for her. Bec smiled, the same smile she’d given me when she’d come home to me after she’d quit the Army for good. She smiled like seeing me was the best thing in the world.