Love Me More

by R. S. Medina

  Blair rolls over onto her stomach, and settles in. I lay on my back and stare up at the ceiling, watching the ceiling fan rotate over and over and over. I can't fall asleep. My insomnia is bad lately, and when I do manage to sleep, I have the nightmares. The counselor said that reoccurring nightmares about what happened were normal. I don't care if they're normal or not – I just want them to fucking stop.

  I roll over and pull open the drawer of my bedside table, and gently touch the cold black steel of my handgun. Sometimes, it makes me feel better just to know it's there in the middle of the night. Blair hates guns. They make her uncomfortable and uneasy, but she'll regret not having one if we ever have someone break into the house, so she doesn't argue with me. I've had nights where I've woken up clutching it, and I'm sure if Blair knew that, she'd make me get rid of it immediately.

  I crawl out of bed, careful to not wake up Blair, who is sleeping in bed next to me, and close the bedroom door behind me. As I walk past Olivia's door, I peek in. I can't help it, but I walk a few steps into the room, and she's sleeping peacefully, her curls falling around her face. She looks like an angel, and right now I see so much of her mother in her that I can't help but feel my heart grow a little bit. I love being her dad. She was worth the wait. I don't want to wake her, so I leave, cracking the door behind me.

  I go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of whiskey. Maybe a drink will help calm my nerves and help me sleep.

  Blair hates the smell of whiskey – says it makes her stomach turn. I, on the other hand, love the smell. It smells like warmth and comfort. I take a swig and feel the familiar burn.

  I'm glad Blair is sleeping. She has the nose of a hound and can always tell when I have been drinking, which she claims is too much lately. She claims it makes my mood worse, but I think it helps me feel better. Helps the numb feeling feel less... cold.

  I take another long swig and feel it burn all the way down to my stomach that is warming up. I finish up my pour and go back to the room to try for sleep. Blair is sprawled out in the middle of the bed, her legs tangled in the comforter, hair wild over the pillows. I find a way to maneuver her back to her side of the bed without waking her which is a feat.

  I lie down next to her and watch the fan rotate, hoping that tonight I'll be able to fall asleep, and if I do, hoping I don't dream.

  Past

  Six months have passed since Finn left. Chazz came for a few days after Finn left for his second deployment, and it was nice to see her. She stayed as long as she could, given her busy schedule. I was lucky she came out at all. She laid around and watched Netflix with me, and we binged on candy. We didn't talk about the miscarriage. When she left, I hated being alone, but I eventually got back to being okay for the most part.

  I've avoided my friends with babies, though. I can't help it, but I silently resent them, wondering what makes them better than me to carry a child and be a mother. I know it's not fair to them that I feel that way, after all, it's not their fault, but I can't help the way I feel.

  Part of me resents Finn for leaving, although, I know it wasn't his choice. He didn't have a choice. I've thrown myself into work and anything I can do to keep myself busy. It helps me pass the time. It helps me not think.

  This deployment is supposed to be shorter than the last. I haven't received a confirmed homecoming date yet, but we are supposedly down to the last four weeks of this deployment, which means I'll get my home back soon. Finn and I will be reunited. I can't wait. The ombudsman and command keep nagging at all the military families about the importance of keeping these homecoming dates secret, and I am so over the harassing emails.

  I lie in bed, trying to go to sleep, but the bed feels too big and empty, and my feet are so cold they ache, but I refuse to sleep in socks. I wish Finn was here. He's my human heater, my personal foot warmer.

  I roll over and sigh because I miss Finn. I grab my phone off the charger and open my email app. I open the last email I got from Finn. I was sleeping when he tried to Skype me, which broke my heart because I miss his face, but I woke up to an email which was nice.

  Hey, Baby girl.

  I tried to Skype you, but I guess you're sleeping. I keep forgetting about the time difference between us. I miss you so fucking much and can't wait to come home to you. Not much longer, though. I still haven't heard a homecoming date, but I'm sure you'll know before I do, which is par for the course. Have I ever told you that it fucking sucks over here? Because it does. I can't wait to come home. The first thing I want to do is come home, snuggle you, and order a pizza and eat it in bed. I have to go now, if you don't hear from me for a couple of days, don't worry too much. Work will be busy for the next few days. Just know that I love you, and I miss you, so fucking much. You are my heart.

  I reread the email until my eyes sting and I can see the words when I close my eyes. Just a few more weeks. We can do this.

  Past

  It was just a routine day, doing routine shit. And then everything went to hell.

  My ears started ringing. Now everything hurts, and nothing makes sense. Someone's screaming. I'm wet, and when I look down, there's blood all over my uniform. Red against my Desert Sand cammies. I don't know if it's mine or someone else's. Or both. I try to lift my arm to wipe the blood out of my eyes, but I can't seem to lift it. I'm disoriented and groggy and confused.

  And then everything goes black.

  When I wake up, I jerk up in a panic, which makes me wince. I'm attached to wires. The room is too bright. The bed is uncomfortable.

  Holy fuck, am I dead?

  No, I can't be dead. I hurt too much to be dead.

  My head feels like it's splitting open, and everything aches.

  Blair doesn't know where I am. Holy fuck, Blair. This is going to devastate her. If I'm not already dying, she's going to murder me.

  A nurse comes around to do rounds and sees that I'm awake. She looks composed and pages the doctors. While she waits on them, she makes small talk with me.

  "How are you feeling?" she asks. I know she has to ask, but seriously? How the fuck does she think I'm feeling? Everything fucking hurts. Like a motherfucker.

  "Like shit," I say, grimacing. My mouth is too dry, and my head feels like someone took a hammer to it from the inside.

  "After the doctor comes in to talk to you, I'll give you something for the pain," she says, nodding in understanding and empathy.

  "Where am I?" I ask, trying to stay calm, but I know the nurse can tell I'm anxious by the increase in my heart rate on the monitor.

  "You're in the military hospital in Germany," she says, eyeing the screen. "And you need to rest." I just nod. I hurt too much to disagree.

  "Does my wife know I'm here?" I ask. Part of me hopes Blair does, and part of me hopes she doesn't. She doesn't need to worry.

  The nurse shrugs. "I'm sure your command notified her. But I'll find out more information here in a bit. Let's make sure you're okay first."

  She starts going over the monitors and taking down vitals. I just watch her warily, trying to breathe through the pain and discomfort. I want to call my wife. I bet Blair has a panic attack. After this, she's going to demand that I quit the Marines.

  When the doctor comes in with a flourish, he allows the nurse to give me some pain medicine and asks me to recount what I remember. I tell them what little I remember and they fill in the pieces.

  Our Humvee was hit by an IED, but it didn't do nearly the amount of damage it could have. Not everyone in the Humvee made it, though. They won't tell me who made it yet and who didn't, but my heart breaks, none the less.

  Those were my brothers—my friends, every single one of them.

  Apparently, I'm "lucky" and "someone was looking out for me." Which I find to be complete horseshit. What makes me any luckier or special than anyone else in that Humvee? No one deserves that fucking fate. They were just doing their jobs. They were people, with families and friends who cared about them—people who will be devastated when t
hey hear the news.

  I have a laundry list of minor injuries, all of which are nothing compared to death. I'm walking away with severe bruises covering my body, stitches, and a concussion. Which is fucking rare in cases of IEDs. My entire body aches as if it was put in a dryer on tumble dry and my body was slung around like a rag doll.

  I should have been the one to die. None of my brothers should be the ones to have to go. It should have been me. Why the fuck should I have been one of the "lucky" ones? And an even worse, more fucked up part of me feels guilty because I'm glad that I get to live another day, to go home and see my Blair.

  Present

  I roll out of bed and walk to the bathroom after hitting the snooze button on my alarm clock a ridiculous amount of times. I didn't get a whole lot of sleep because Finn kept tossing and turning. I flip on the light to look at a head full of crazy bed head hair and sleepy eyes. I don't know how Finn can stomach waking up to this hot mess every morning. I already hear Olivia stirring in her bedroom— how is that child already up?

  The bathroom light wakes Finn since he's such a light sleeper now. I remember when he could sleep through just about anything, but I guess deployment does that to a person. Finn comes in while I'm brushing my teeth. He sleepily puts his hand on my hip and kisses the back of my head. It's the most affection he's shown me in a long time. The ice in my heart thaws a little bit.

  I hurry to throw on some makeup and clothes as Finn starts getting ready for his day. Somehow he's still ready before I am, yet somehow I'm still the one getting Olivia ready for daycare. Finn's lack of interest in helping with Olivia this morning is frustrating, especially because I have to be out the door soon.

  "Come on, Olivia," I coo as I try to convince Olivia to cooperate long enough to get her clothes for the day on her. Olivia struggles to get away as I attempt to pull her chubby little arms through the sleeves of her shirt.

  I give Finn a nasty look as I begin to get exasperated. He is so preoccupied with his laptop this morning that he doesn't even notice. It puts me in an even worse mood. This is one of our bad mornings, one of Finn's withdrawn mornings. It's not always like this, but it's always a gamble. I don't know which Finn I'll get. Some mornings he's great. But today, it's the asshole Finn.

  "I'm running late," I bark. "Some help would be nice," I say snarling. I am not a morning person anyway, but this morning sucks.

  Finn instantly jumps to anger.

  "What would you like me to do?" Finn snaps.

  "Never fucking mind. I've got it." I always shut down when Finn starts getting angry like that. To be honest, his anger has always intimidated me, even before the deployments. He's the only one I have ever backed down from when it comes to arguing. But his height, body type, and demeanor have always intimidated me. And it just pisses Finn off even more when I shut down, but I can't help it. Plus, I hate fighting in front of Olivia. It makes me feel like the worst parent ever. I studied about parenting because I had no idea what the hell I was doing, and one of the articles I read said that negative tones and fighting in front of infants and babies negatively affects their brain waves or some shit. I want Olivia to have the best life she can have, and arguing in front of her isn't giving her a good start.

  I stomp off as Finn starts yelling at me. I don't have time for this bullshit this morning. And maybe it won't be as bad if I just let him yell and get it over with.

  I finish getting Olivia ready for daycare and pass her off to Finn. "So is this how we are starting the day?" Finn asks as he's about to head out the door with Olivia to the car.

  "I guess so. I'm here getting Olivia ready and running late, and you're sitting on your laptop," I retort.

  "I had stuff I needed to do," Finn states as if that makes the situation any less frustrating.

  "Well, you could have done it last night, but instead you were playing fucking video games." I'm pissed. See, this is the difference between us. I have so much shit to do, I cannot afford to not do things and be prepared, but Finn waits until the last possible second and fucks around, and then gets to play catch up while I clean up the mess.

  Finn loses it. And I think it's because he knows I'm right.

  "Fine, Blair! I won't play video games anymore!" he's raising his voice again. His face and ears are turning crimson with anger, a tell-tale sign he's always had and hated.

  I roll my eyes. I've heard that a million times. Video games have always been a bone of contention between us. I might be a little needy, but he spends entirely too much time and money on such an expensive and time consuming hobby. The time and money he spends on gaming could be spent on us doing things together.

  "Look, I'm running late. Get Olivia to daycare." I turn and walk away. I hear the door slam.

  I try to finish gathering my stuff and pull my morning together when my phone pings.

  "Good morning, pretty girl." It's a Snapchat picture from Tristan. His dark beard and warm eyes make me smile. He wears the beard well. Usually, I don't like beards. They look unkempt and dirty sometimes. But on Tristan it's different. He looks rugged and manly... and hot. I'd sit on his face. I wonder what that beard would feel like between my thighs? I wonder if it would feel scratchy and rough or tickle?

  Oh, my GOD. WHO AM I? I need to get laid, like yesterday.

  I snap a picture of myself to send back to him. I caption it: "Good morning yourself. Mornings are never good." I hit send.

  I watch as the notification goes from sent to read. He immediately responds. It's a picture of him, and you can tell he's laughing. The caption says "I see someone still hates mornings. Nothing's changed there." And he's right. I've never been a morning person.

  I lock my phone and walk out the door to head to work.

  I've been at work for a few hours now, and honestly, texting with Tristan has been the highlight of my day. He's so funny. And it keeps my day interesting.

  I remember when Finn and I used to text each other during the day. We used to send each other sweet messages and check in on how each other's day was going. That never happens anymore. He says it's because he's no longer deployed and things are different now that we see each other every single day.

  I type out a text to Finn.

  Me: I hope you have a good day, even though it started a little bit rough. I love you.

  I don't get a response. I didn't expect to, though. Finn never responds to my texts anymore. I think Finn sometimes forgets that I can fucking see when he reads a text message I sent him. Oh, the glories of technology today.

  I finish up a project I'm working on for my boss, and walk to her office to tell her when I see a familiar shade of dark brown hair and the deep voice of someone I know.

  "Tristan?" I ask, unsure if it's him or just someone who looks like him. I see him turn around with confusion in his eyes. When he sees me, a smile lights up his face. He has such gorgeous teeth.

  "Hey, Blair," he says, grinning. "I didn't know you worked here," he says, making me suspicious. It's all too coincidental.

  "Are you stalking me?" I accuse him, glaring. He laughs, and I cross my arms over my chest.

  "Yes, Blair. I'm totally stalking you," he says, rolling his eyes. When I don't laugh or smile and just continue to glare, he sighs and waves his hand. "I'm here on personal business," he says, shrugging. He looks around the office. "Want to walk me to my car?" he asks, jerking his head in the direction of the door leading to the parking lot. I look around as well. I'm sure they won't miss me for a minute. I start walking to the door, expecting him to follow.

  "You can't just come to my work, Tristan," I warn him when we are safely outside, away from my coworkers prying ears and eyes.

  "I'm serious. I'm here for some personal shit, not for you," Tristan tells me, rubbing his arm awkwardly. "Don't get a big head or anything," he says shoving me lightly, and I loosen up. I grin at him.

  "So, how's your day going?" he asks as we walk to his truck together.

  "Shit," I complain, throwing my hands up in the ai
r in frustration, happy that I have someone to vent to, but I hesitate. I don't need to dump my marital issues and frustrations on him.

  He looks at me expectantly, and when I don't say anything else, he nods to prompt me further.

  "Want to talk about it?" he asks, trying to nudge me. I purse my lips trying to decide what to say and not say. I shouldn't talk about my marital problems with another man, but it would feel good to get some of what's bothering me off my chest.

  "It's going to shit. I don't know where things went so badly between Finn and me. Things changed after we had the baby. We both love Olivia so much, but having Olivia changed me, I guess. He says he no longer loves me like he used to. He doesn't find me as attractive as he used to, either." I feel my eyes start to well up with tears, but I won't allow myself to tear up. It's embarrassing to admit that I'm no longer attractive.

  "Well that's some bullshit," Tristan says, shrugging his shoulder, leaning up against the door of his truck, staring at me. I look down so he can't see the tears forming. "Are you ok?"

  I nod and try to swallow the lump in my throat. "Yeah, I'm ok. Just exhausted," I say. Exhausted from trying, exhausted from fighting, exhausted from feeling worthless.

  "I don't know what to say," Tristan says, looking helpless. I feel bad for dumping all of this on him, but now that I've opened the emotional dam, I'm having a hard time stopping the onslaught of words coming out of my mouth.

  "Me either. I've done everything I can. We have been throwing the idea around about separating and even divorce, but we haven't done it yet. Finn doesn't want Olivia to grow up in a broken home," I say. I'm starting to get angry. I should be with someone who is fighting as hard as I am to keep us together for Olivia.