Kelsey’s legs are bent beneath her, her torso folded back, her shoulders flat on the ground.
That's a level of flexibility that I could seriously get behind. Or in front of.
Or holy crap, I need to stop watching her. This is too erotic by far.
Oh shit, child's pose. Yeah, that's pretty much exactly the pose she did earlier with her strip tease.
Shit.
Wait, we're lying on our backs now.
Everyone is under a blanket. Okay then, lying down is definitely something I can do.
Kelsey is lying on the floor, her eyes closed, her body draped in a multicolored wool blanket.
I do the same, closing my eyes, grateful my public humiliation is at an end.
And then the instructor starts talking. About breathing. About feeling your body, lying on the floor.
How long is this going to last?
I'm twitchy, lying there. Trying to listen and not distract anyone. The bottom of my foot starts itching something fierce. I don't scratch but it's so intense my damn leg starts shaking.
And just as suddenly as it starts, it stops. I have the oddest sensation of floating somewhere between waking and sleeping. It's strange because I can hear Kelsey's quiet breathing next to me. It's comforting, not being alone in this strangeness.
Lights flash behind my eyes. I frown but don't flinch. It's reminiscent of lightning streaking across the night sky. Quick streaks across my eyelids. My heart starts beating faster. I try to focus on the streaks and flashes but the harder I try to watch them, the faster they disappear.
And then they're gone, leaving only the blank space behind my eyes. I find myself looking for them. Wanting them to come back. The black shape morphs and twists, a shadow that reminds me of the crow that sat on the edge of the broken window that night, long, long ago.
Not wanting to be alone and still. I shiver suddenly, like someone walked over my grave and I am suddenly, achingly cold.
It feels like an eternity before the instructor’s voice snaps through the silence, telling us to move our fingers and toes.
To roll onto our sides, then slowly sit up.
I feel slightly out of it.
Like I'm waking up a little bit drunk.
I steal a peek at Kelsey, whose palms connect at the center of her forehead as she bows. I quickly follow; something tells me this is the most important part of the class.
The whispered hush of “Namaste” slides over my skin. Something soothing. Calming.
Serene, even.
I've never felt anything like it.
25
Kelsey
"What did you think?"
"It was an experience," he says, dragging his hand through his wet hair. "You do that all the time? Willingly? You look exhausted."
I smile and stretch my arms overhead until my spine pops. "I love it. Most of the time, I leave class feeling amazing."
"And when you don't?"
"Usually it's because I can't focus and my mind keeps wandering on me."
He opens the bottle of water I filled up and tossed at him before we left the apartment, chugging it hungrily. "That was seriously intense. I already thought you were a badass but now it's confirmed."
I open my own water bottle and drink deeply. I'll get a headache if I don't drink enough. "Drink the whole thing," I tell him. "I usually pound down a full thirty-two ounces immediately after class to rehydrate."
"I can see why," he says dryly.
"What did you think about the yoga nidra?"
He looks away, taking a long pull off his water bottle. "What happened?" I ask, pressing him ever so gently.
He takes a minute to answer. "There were all these flashes behind my eyes. It was like, hypnotic and unsettling. I felt the strangest urge to keep staring at them, though."
I brush my fingers against the back of his hand as we walk back to my apartment. "It can open you up to strange emotions. I've had a variety of experiences with it."
"Why do you do it?"
"It's part of my practice. Part of being still, in the moment and just feeling your body and connecting with something deeper."
He frowns for a minute. "If it's so good for you and you're so into this, how come you still have insomnia and stuff? Like why doesn't it cure you?"
My turn to buy myself a moment by drinking. "I think because nothing is permanent. Every day, we're a different person. The practice that released something yesterday doesn't hit the same muscles today. But it's the best thing I've done for myself in my attempt to not be a raging chaos Muppet train wreck."
He smiles down at me. "Chaos Muppet?"
I flail my arms overhead. "You know, like Kermit's Muppet flail?"
He laughs and tugs me close then, kissing me lightly. "I'm glad I went with you. It was different and disconcerting and enlightening."
I rest one hand against the hard angle of his stomach. "Will you come back?"
"I don't know. I've got a pretty bruised ego right now, watching you do all those twists and bends and folds and I'm standing there looking like a brain damaged ostrich."
I brush my lips against his. "A very sexy damaged ostrich. I almost died laughing a couple of times. You were very distracting."
"So were you, bending over like that in front of me. Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands to myself?"
I make a noise in my throat, already wanting him again. "I'm very glad you did. I would not have been able to stay silent."
"Isn't there something like sexy yoga?"
"You're thinking of tantric yoga and it's actually been horribly bastardized by the West. It's about a much higher plane of energy than sex itself can create."
He purses his lips and I can see where his mind is going. "Have you…done this?"
I shake my head. "No. It's a very advanced practice that involves a release of energy."
He narrows his eyes. "Now you've definitely got me intrigued."
"Maybe after you've gone to more than one yoga class. Hell, I'm not even ready for it and I've been practicing for a couple of years."
He tugs me close, nipping my bottom lip. It's so strange, having his hands on me the whole time, having the freedom to actually touch him without fear.
To feel that utterly human connection with him again. I return the favor, scraping my teeth against his throat. "We have the cadets in a couple of hours. Are you prepared for the discussion today?"
He sighs dramatically and releases me. "That's a hell of a way to kill a boner, thinking about that little peckerhead Ryan. Thanks. I may never get aroused again."
"Challenge accepted. Later. After class."
"What did we give them to read this week?"
"That article about the war crimes in the 101st Airborne."
"Oh, that's going to be fun," Deacon says dryly. "Fine. I'll chew some Xanax before class and keep my temper."
I pat his shoulder. "You should shower first."
He glances as his watch. "Yeah, probably right." He kisses me quickly, then releases me, turning back the way we came in the direction of his own apartment. "Hey, Kels?"
I turn back. "Yeah?"
"I'm really glad you turned out to be the random stranger I was talking to on the Internet."
I laugh and shake my head. "Yeah, me too."
I turn away, heading to my apartment to read the article and shower and get ready for class today. We’re several lessons in and I still can't get used to feeling intensely nervous every time we bring them together. It's like I'm waiting for one of them to call me out for being an idiot.
I walk into my apartment and see the little Ganesh statue in the corner near the window. I smile at him, unable to resist the thought that maybe, just maybe, some obstacles are finally being moved.
Deacon
It feels like an eternity until the class gets under way. We walked to campus, talking about the cadets, about The Pint. About nothing and everything.
I guess this is what normal people do? It feels v
ery mundane.
It feels kind of perfect.
We take our normal positions at the opposite ends of the conference room table, the cadets filling the same seats they always occupy.
Kelsey starts the discussion. "You all are going to be lieutenants very soon. And whether you like it or not, you will serve in combat unless you are very, very fortunate. Will someone sum up the article for us?”
Surprising exactly no one, Ryan's hand shoots into the air. "I guess I'm not sure what we're supposed to wrestle with here. This was pretty cut and dry. The brigade commander set a command climate that led to his men murdering civilians. What's the ethical dilemma?"
Iosefe leans forward. Oh, this ought to be good. He's so quiet, sometimes I feel like he's mentally somewhere else. But today, he's definitely present. "There are huge issues here. If you're a lieutenant and your brigade commander is giving you a take-no-prisoners order? How are you supposed to fight back against that?"
Ryan frowns. "Refuse to obey? We don't commit war crimes."
I catch Kelsey's eye and she's as surprised by his response as I am. I expected Ryan of all people to be supporting the command climate in the name of self-defense.
Funny how people sometimes defy the boxes we try to put them in.
I lean back, listening and watching the future officers. It's like a fire has been lit beneath Iosefe. Veer, too, is antsy in his seat, waiting to get a word in as Iosefe launches another argument.
"It's not that simple. It's like you're that dude who says ‘yeah I could never enlist because I'd totally knock a drill sergeant out when he gets in my face.’ Until you've actually stood up and spoke truth to power you never appreciate how hard it is."
Veer leans in, his hands moving as he speaks. "I think Iosefe's right. I mean, we all want to believe that we'd be the one helping the Jews escape the Nazis but at the end of the day, most of us wouldn't be."
Jovi glances over at him, her expression solemn. "That's a really depressing thought."
Ryan sits back in his chair with a huff. "I don't buy it. I don't believe we can just sit around and say ‘yeah, I'd totally go along with this.’ It's not right. There's no moral dilemma here. We don't kill prisoners."
Iosefe mirrors his body language, folding his big arms over his chest. "My grandfather was in the Pacific during World War II. My father was in Vietnam and the Gulf War. I've heard the stories they tell. And they would tell you that when you're in that situation, it's different."
Ryan still isn't buying it.
Kelsey taps her pen on the table, drawing their attention. She's edgy, taking a deep breath before she starts talking. "I was faced with a situation like this. Our base…"
Oh shit, she's going to tell them. My heart tightens in my chest.
"Our base was attacked. We managed to push them back and keep them from overrunning it. We captured a guy in a VBIED that didn't go off." Another deep breath. She's never told me this story before. I realize I'm holding my breath. "My lieutenant wanted one of my soldiers to shoot him. To just end him. We were in the middle of a firefight. We didn't have time to take control of a prisoner." Another deep breath as she looks each of the cadets in the eye. "I refused the order. I told my soldier to disobey the order." Another breath. "And while we were standing there arguing, the prisoner grabbed my LT's weapon. There was a struggle. My LT didn't make it home."
"Jesus, Kels," I whisper.
"Do you regret disobeying the order?" Jovi asks, her voice a stark contrast to Kelsey's in that moment.
"Part of me does. Maybe my LT was right. Maybe I should have pulled the trigger myself and gotten on with the rest of the fight." She holds another deep breath for an impossibly long moment before slowly releasing it. "I don't know whether I made the right call. I regret that my lieutenant didn't come home. That his parents received a flag instead of their son." She looks at each of them again. "But I do know that I would have the exact same doubt if I had pulled the trigger."
I clear my throat softly. "Nothing in war is simple," I say finally. "The friction Clausewitz talks about has not gone away with new technology and guided munitions. Every choice you make has consequences. Every single one has a second and third order effect. Your war is infinitely more morally complex than even the one that Kelsey and I served in."
The cadets are somber now, less animated. Our words are sinking in, hopefully making them think about the choices they will have to make.
Ryan glances over at me. "How do you do it? How do you tell yourself it's worth it?"
I can hear First Sarn't Sorren's voice in my head. My gaze collides with Kelsey's. "You do it for the person to your left and right. You try to make a difference one day at a time. You try to leave the world a little better than you found it, even over there. And you hope that the people you love the most all make it home with you."
Jovi's voice breaks the quiet. "And if they don't?"
"Then you honor the life they led. You crack a beer on Memorial Day and remember all the good times, the stupid shit," Kelsey says softly, her eyes never leaving mine. "And you keep going. Because that’s what they’d want you to do."
26
Kelsey
"That went well," he says as we walk out of class.
"Ryan surprised me today," I say, trying to shake off the feeling that we're not seeing the entire picture with Ryan. "He's wound awfully tight for a twenty-two-year-old."
"Wasn't his dad a Marine?"
"Mom, too," I add.
"That seems like it could explain a lot."
"Are we stereotyping Marines?"
He jostles my shoulder gently then holds the door for me to precede him into The Grind. "If we can't stereotype Marines, then there is nothing left to live for."
I smile and order my coffee. Deacon winces as I sip from it. "What?"
"No sugar? How is that even possible? You used to molest hazelnut Coffee-Mate in Iraq."
I smile at the memory. "Who hasn't offered up blow jobs for the last hazelnut Coffee-Mate on the FOB? And you knew exactly what you were doing, hoarding all of it." I drag my hand through my hair, still smiling. "Wow, I haven't thought about that in a long time."
"That may have been the best cup of coffee I ever had."
"I bet." We sit in a small booth at the corner of the coffee shop. The library is attached but it's not a high traffic time so we'll have relative privacy.
He takes out a notepad and pen, then stares at it for a long time. "So, um, thank you. For being willing to do this interview." A hard push of breath. "I owe you."
"Oh, I'm going to collect. You shouldn't have reminded me of the Coffee-Mate episode."
His nostrils flare just a little at my words. "Oh yeah?" His knee presses against mine beneath the table. Gentle pressure, innocent enough. But after the last few days, my mind and body are attuned to him in completely not innocent ways. "Maybe we should get a carrel?"
"Maybe you should ask your questions so you have a paper to turn in so you can graduate."
"Are you reminding me to get on task?" He picks up the pen and pulls out a sheet of paper with questions typed on it. Another deep breath. "So, I guess start with when you knew you were getting out of the Army."
"What about it?"
"What did you do to start planning? Did you start looking for a job?"
I smile sadly. "I pissed hot on a urinalysis and ninety days later, was cleared from Fort Hood by my squad leader because I was in the hospital. So no, I didn't really have a plan for getting out of the military."
He looks up from the notepad. "Why were you in the hospital?"
I look down at the coffee cup, digging my fingernail into the edge of the cardboard cup holder. "Turns out, having your lady parts removed fucks with your head."
The words are harder to say than I thought they would be. They didn't get stuck so much as they dragged a well of emotion out of the mud, like an anchor coated in weeds and dirt from the bottom of a river.
But one look at his expressi
on tells me he’s having a very strong reaction to them.
"Say that again," he says quietly.
"Which part?"
"The part about your lady parts? I knew you got hurt but it wasn't serious enough to get you evac’d out of theater. What…what happened?"
My belly aches the way it used to when I used to get my period. I don't have that problem anymore but the echo of the pain flares up every so often.
Like now.
"I didn't even realize what was happening. I got home and went for my well woman. They sent me for an evaluation. Turns out one of my ovaries had been pretty banged up during the fighting. Took a while to catch up to me but something burst and they took both of them and a good chunk of my uterus before I really knew what was going on."
God, but this hurts to talk about. To talk about the loss of something that everyone complains about until they don't have it anymore.
"Jesus, Kels… You never said anything."
"I was mostly healed when you got home. Didn't think it was important. Except that it was." I swallow hard, looking down at the coffee cup. Breathing deep, closing off the back of my throat and doing the ujjayi breathing I've been practicing to try and keep the anxiety at bay.
"My commander didn't believe I was actually having real mental health problems but I wasn’t sleeping. Turns out not sleeping really fucks with your decision-making abilities. I took some older meds I had, had a terrible interaction with the alcohol I’d been drinking and ended up in the hospital. When I got out of the hospital, he handed me my DD214. I've been fighting with the VA ever since."
He's not writing anything down. Not moving. Just sitting there, vibrating with energy. "This is supposed to be an interview. Aren't you supposed to be writing things down?"
"Kels."
I look up at him then because I would be a coward not to. "I had some pretty bad complications when I got blown up in that attack on the base. No one bothered to tell me to keep an eye out for some pretty heavy-duty side effects. Turns out, Army docs aren't very good at dealing with female problems. I ended up in crisis; they put me on a super strong anti-psychotic and I stepped in front of a bus. I don't even remember most of it." I take a long sip of the coffee, needing the burn to remind me that I'm still alive. That I didn't die that day or any day since. "And since my female problems are service-connected, I have to be seen at the VA because I can't get insurance elsewhere. And because I lack an honorable discharge, they won't see me."
Catch My Fall: A Falling Novel Page 20
