by Staci Hart
I felt like it was a betrayal, an abandonment. And that left me utterly alone.
I was leaving everyone I loved.
But I didn't have to leave Elliot. I could take her with me in a small way. I would have her always, if she would marry me.
The plan had been to wait to marry until she'd graduated, when I came back from my first tour overseas, to Iraq, if I had to guess. I'd wondered, as my hands stilled over my bag, if I would make it back.
It wasn't the first time I'd considered it, but it was the first time I felt it. I imagined it, imagined them sending my body home, imagined Elliot standing over my grave, wondering what would have been, what could have been.
Something in me snapped.
If something happened to me, she would be the last to know. She would receive nothing, would have no means to take care of her. If something happened to me (I pictured it, saw the image of my broken body, the blood, the sand blowing over me), if it happened before I came back, I would never have had her at all, never called her my wife. Never placed the ring on her finger and told her I'd love her until my last breath. And that was the one thing, the only thing I wanted before I died.
I knew where Dad kept Gran's ring, and I swiped it in the dark, hurried to her house, climbed in her window, and I changed the rules. For us. For me.
And she said yes. She eased my mind, eased my fears. She said yes, and that made me the happiest man in the entire world.
The next day as I waited for her to come over so we could tell my family, the foyer seemed smaller than it usually was as I paced from end to end. My thoughts flew around my head — she was on her way. We were getting married. Married. She'd given me everything I wished for when she uttered that single word: Yes.
A knock sounded on the door, and I rushed to open it, knowing it was her, smiling the smile of a man whose dreams have come true. But the look on her face nearly brought me to my knees.
"What happened?" I asked, reaching for her.
Her chin quivered, face bending as she curled into my chest, crying. I held her against me with my hand cupping the back of her head, her silky dark hair between my fingers. We stood like that for a long moment, my heart sinking lower and lower until I was anchored to the spot.
When she pulled away, she swiped at her tears, avoiding my eyes. "I … I'm sorry."
"For what?" I asked, terrified, my voice quiet and still.
She shook her head. "I told my dad."
"What did he do?" I growled.
She blew out a breath and looked away, staving off more tears. "He said we're too young. That we don't know what we're doing. That he wants to protect me, so …" She met my eyes. "He told me I have to choose."
First was shock, zapping up my spine like I'd been electrocuted. Then anger, hot and slow in my chest, but not at her. For her.
"How could he do that? Why would he do that?" I asked, spitting the words, pulling her back into me, hanging on to her as if I could absorb the pain, or at the very least share it with her.
"Because he's my dad. He wants what's best for me."
I would have laughed if I hadn't been so angry. "No, Elliot. He doesn't."
"Of course he does."
I let it go, not wanting to argue with her, not now. "What did he threaten you with?"
"Everything," she said quietly. "He'll kick me out, disinherit me."
"As if he has something left to give you other than debt."
"That's not the point." She pulled away, eyes full of hurt. "They're my family. I'm just seventeen … where will I go? What will I do?"
"You'll be with me. I'll take care of you." I willed her to understand. "I'll always take care of you."
Her dark eyes searched mine. "What if we went back to the old plan? What if … what if we just have a long engagement? I'll finish high school, and then I'll be free."
Betrayal was all I felt, slipping over me like a storm. "I can't believe you're actually considering this. After last night, after everything …"
She touched my arm, her skin burning mine. "I love you, Wade. I want to marry you, but why can't we wait just for a year like we'd planned?"
I swallowed my fears, not able to speak the truth, not able to admit why I couldn't wait. I didn't want to scare her, didn't want her to know I was afraid too. "This isn't about them. This is about you and me. They don't care about you. They don't want your happiness, don't you see that?" I took her hands and looked into her eyes. "Don't let them dictate your life. Don't give them that power."
"Please," she said, her voice shaking. "Please don't make me choose, Wade."
My will hardened, digging in its heels. "I don't want to leave, go to war, live," (Die) "without you. I can't. While I exist in this universe, I want you tied to me in a way that's unbreakable. Undeniable. And I know what you want — you told me last night. I know you want me, want this, just as much as I do. So just make the choice. It's easy."
"You keep saying that, but it's not." Her voice quivered, her eyes flashing with the hurt and betrayal I felt. "Nothing is easy. Nothing is simple. I'm seventeen, and you're asking me to commit to walking away from my family for my whole life without considering what it will mean for me."
"I'm asking for you to commit to me. I'm not asking for you to give anything other than yourself to me."
"There are consequences, consequences that will last my entire life. I'm just asking for time, that's all," she begged.
"I don't have time to give you." I fumed frantically, watching her, willing her to change her mind.
She shook her head, pulling her hands back, taking my heart with her. "I can't believe you're doing this. I expected it from them, but not from you. What I'm asking isn't unreasonable. I'm not saying no, Wade. I'm saying yes. I'm telling you I want you, but you're telling me that it's now or never. It's not fair. None of this is fair," she said, voice raising, trembling. In the moment, I couldn't see how right she was.
"You want to honor them over us." I watched her slip away, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The finality of the situation dawned on me, our future, our dreams fading in the light. "They've done nothing for you but tear you down, and you're not willing to walk away from them. You're not willing to come with me. You're choosing them."
"And you'd rather lose me forever than give me more time?"
I took a breath and squared my shoulders. "I'm asking you to take a leap. To trust me."
"I do trust you, but you're asking too much. Too much," she whispered, eyes shining, heart broken.
"You would choose them over me when all they've done is hurt you. When all I've ever done is love you. And if you really loved me, you'd come with me." I watched her, resigned, defeated. "I don't know what else to say."
Her tears fell in sparkling trails down her cheeks, and I watched, my soul folding in on itself as she reached for her left hand, ring finger, and she twisted, twisting the knife in my heart along with it. The ring slipped off her long finger and she pressed it into my palm.
"Then I guess we say goodbye."
And I was so broken, so hurt, that all I could do was turn around and walk inside, closing the door to my heart behind me.
I'd never opened it again.
I left the next day with everyone sending me off but the one person I needed more than anything, and my anger, my hurt overwhelmed me. At the time, I felt like she'd abandoned me, that she'd broken the promise she'd made. That she'd left me the second she put that ring in my hand. I just didn't realize it was me who had forced her to take it off, not until much later. Not until it was too late.
Boot camp was a blur, and the second it was over, I was whisked away to my new station, my new life. And after a few weeks of training, I was on a plane headed for Iraq.
I had no idea what waited for me there.
In the back of my mind, I think I believed that when I finished my first tour, I'd go home and we'd find a way back to each other. A little bit of time was what we needed.
Stupid and young, that was wha
t I was, so angry and betrayed at first that I couldn't see past the feeling. But when I did, I found regret.
I'd been wrong, so wrong, and I hated myself for giving her an ultimatum, for pushing her away. I'd lost her because of my fear. I could have had it all, if I'd only been more brave. If I'd only given her what she'd asked for.
A few weeks into my tour, I found myself in a convoy headed out for supplies with my buddy Perez sitting next to me, smiling and joking as he always did, making light — a useful skill where we found ourselves, when nothing was light or easy. We'd been together since day one of boot camp, not only stationed together but deployed together.
I thought we hit a hole at first — the truck bounced once, and time slowed as gravity shifted. Everything floated for a stretched-out second as the truck flipped, and when we crashed to the ground, there was only nothing, only the deep blackness of unconsciousness sweeping over me.
I came to a few minutes later with my ears ringing, the sound of my name far away, the scent of gasoline and smoke in my nose. And as I got my bearings, I found Perez lying across from me, staring at me. He looked strange, his eyes distant and glassy. Then I noticed the blood that seeped from his head in almost black threads as they wound through his hair and across his forehead.
It was only then that I realized he was dead.
I tried to call his name as they pulled me backward, into the blinding light. Fire, someone yelled — the truck was going to blow — and they dragged me away only a heartbeat before it exploded. Heat passed through us in an unbearable wave, knocking everyone down.
We'd survived. But as I lay in the dirt and sand, I had a singular realization.
I was right to be afraid.
I had nothing to offer Elliot. I had nothing to give her other than pain. If I died here, would she ever recover? Would she ever move on? I regretted so much. I'd hurt her so much. But this was one thing I could spare her.
It was then, in the heat of the desert, that I made the decision not to speak to her again.
At the end of every tour they would ask us who wanted to stay. I volunteered every time.
By the time the war was over, it was too late. It didn't matter that I wished I hadn't gone silent. Because by the time I realized my mistake, it was too big, the distance too far, the wrongs I'd done too deep and wide to breech.
My regret was infinite. And that regret had made me lonely. Angry. It had changed me, twisted me into the man I was now. And now … now it was impossible to see a way back.
I told her now or never, and that mistake would haunt me until the day I died.
6
Thin Soul
Thin soul,
Stretched and pulled
Left to bear the weight
Of the world
On its own.
* * *
-M. White
* * *
Elliot
Sammy spun around in circles next to me, singing a song entirely composed from the word truck, as I slipped Maven's foot into her boot. The morning hadn't been any more hectic than usual, though I felt heavy, weighted. I hadn't slept well, spending so much of the night awake, thinking. There seemed to be so much to think about, and when I got up, I didn't find myself any closer to peace than I had when I lay down.
Instead, I took comfort in the routine of getting the kids ready for school. I'd spend most of my day at work, around books. For two years since I'd graduated, I'd been content not to decide what I wanted to do with my degree, to devote myself to the kids and writing, though I'd recently gotten a job at a book bar that opened near Columbia.
Wasted Words was its name, touting half romance, half comics, and a full bar. I'd convinced the owner, Rose, to add a small poetry section to the library, as well as adding some special edition Jane Austen hardbacks to the mix. Mostly, I kept to myself there, the big store full of big personalities. Being around the books all day, with no one to answer to, no one to be responsible for but myself — that was my happy place.
With everyone ready to go, I carted the kids downstairs and into the entryway where their backpacks hung. Charlie stepped into the foyer, looking a little sheepish.
He was tall and slender, with blond hair and an elegant nose that turned itself up to the world far less than Mary's.
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned on the banister. "Elliot, I wanted to talk to you before you leave."
Maven's hand blindly waved behind her for the backpack strap, and I chased the flailing limb with the loop. "Sure. What's up?"
"Mary told me about your talk last night. I'm really sorry she called you to come home. One hour alone, and she caved." He shook his head.
"Oh, it's all right." I smoothed Maven's hair and moved on to Sammy, who was turning around in a circle looking for his second strap. I touched his shoulders to stop him and slipped the other strap on.
"No, it's not. Listen, I know she told you to pay for the extra daycare, but it's not necessary. We'll take care of it."
I smiled gratefully. "Thank you."
He waved a hand and bent down to pick up Maven as she ran over to him. "Don't thank me. They're our kids, for God's sake. Also, I wanted you to know that we're here to help as much as possible, so if you need to be somewhere in the afternoon, just let me know. Mary or I will pick the kids up and hold down the fort."
I watched Maven squish his face around, and she giggled when he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue.
"Are you sure? Mary didn't seem—"
His face hardened. "Don't worry about Mary. If she gives you trouble, just let me know."
"Thank you, Charlie. Really."
"You're welcome, Elliot," he said as he set Maven down. "I'm working from home today, so I'll get the kids from school."
I nodded and took the kids by the hand. "All right. Just let me know if you need me back and I'll be here."
"We'll manage. Have a great day, you three."
The kids waved, and I offered another smile of thanks before we headed out into the chilly winter morning. The school was only a few blocks away, on the way to the bookstore, and we made our way, jumping over cracks and waving at dogs as they walked by. I felt a little lighter, largely in part to Charlie, who had given me a solution, an out. I'd felt very much alone for a moment, and to know at least someone was there to back me up made a difference. Usually it would be Sophie, but now she needed me far more than I needed her.
A little while later, I walked into the bookshop, surrounded by that magical combination of scents that made my heart flutter — books and coffee. I waved at Cam behind the bar, my tiny, spunky little boss who never failed to make me smile. She trotted around from the back of the bar, smiling as she approached.
"Hey, Elliot."
"Hey," I answered.
"I just wanted to check on you after the other day. Is your friend's dad okay? He had a stroke, right?"
The clamp around my heart squeezed until I couldn't breathe. "He … no. He's not okay. They found out it was cancer."
Cam's hands flew to her lips, and we slowed to a stop just outside the office. "Oh, my God. I'm so sorry."
"Thank you," was all I could say.
"Well, what do you want to do?"
My brow quirked. "Pardon?"
"About work. Are you okay to work? Do you need some time off?"
I blinked, surprised. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about it."
She eyed me. "You were just going to come in and work every shift without asking for any time off?"
"Well … yes. It's my responsibility to be here. And I love being here."
"I get that, I just know he's important to you. He's the poetry professor, right?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"Elliot, I'm serious. If you need time, we can cover for you. Three days a week is nothing."
I swallowed and reached for her arm. "Thank you, Cam." I paused, considering her offer. "I need this place. It's my escape from all the rest of it."
She smiled sadly and placed her hand over mine. "It's mine too."
"But Sophie's going to need a lot of help, and we … we don't have very much time left with him. So maybe, if it's all right, it wouldn't be a bad idea to cut back to just a day or maybe two rather than three?"
Cam nodded once, standing up a little straighter, seeming relieved to have contributed. "That'll be just fine — let's do one day, and you can pick up if you need to get away. Any preference on days?"
"No, whenever you need me most is fine."
"Deal. And if you need to take off, just let me know."
I smiled. "Deal."
We parted ways, and I headed into the back to put my stuff in my locker, then clocked in, picked up a box of books at the register, and began walking around the store to put them away. It was a quiet morning, as mornings there usually were — afternoons and evenings were the busy times. I'd heard, at least, since I was always at home with the kids. Cam threw themed singles nights to try to mix up the comic book boys and romance girls, and they were a smash. She'd been trying to get me to come to them since she'd hired me, her requests bordering on relentless. It made me smile — I thought she might actually die of happiness if I found a boyfriend at one of her events.
Thing was, I didn't really want one. I should take that back — I wanted to eventually settle down, get married, have kids of my own. But for the time being, I was too busy and unsure of what I wanted out of life to commit to anyone, not that anyone had caught my eye.
I slipped Jane Eyre back in with her sisters and checked the next book, heading to its shelf, thinking about Wade.
It would be a lie to deny that he had something to do with my loneliness. With me. With everything.
But it wasn't that I hadn't been asked out by other guys— I had, even recently, perils of working in a bar, even if it was a bookstore too. But secretly I compared everyone to him, and no one could measure up. The way they made me feel, the things they'd say, it was just never right, never even close to what I'd had. Every date I'd been on ended up being all wrong. Or maybe I was all wrong.
