“It was just a dream,” I say in a soothing voice. “It’s OK. It was just a dream.”
Noah sits down on the edge of the bed and I sit next to him.
We don’t say anything for a moment, but he seems to have calmed down a little.
“Sorry,” he says. “I… should have told you. I get nightmares… They’re… pretty intense… I always wake up reaching for my gun, thinking they’re out there, trying to get me… that everyone I know and love is gone… dead… taken from me…”
“Did that happen to you when you were in the Seals?” I say.
It’s the first time I’ve ever really asked him anything about his time in the Seals.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. His voice sounds distant. It seems like it’s bringing back painful memories. “Some of the things I had to do… Some of the things we went through… They were horrible. Terrible.”
I don’t know what to say.
“Have you been to talk to anyone about these nightmares?” I say.
He shakes his head. “That’s not… I don’t do that,” he says.
“You know,” I say. “A lot of people coming back have PTSD. It’s normal. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know.”
“I’m not ashamed of it,” says Noah. “Because there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t have PTSD. That’s for people who had it much worse than me. That’s when things really get bad. No, I don’t have that.”
He’s shaking his head vigorously.
“But how often do you wake up reaching for your gun?” I say.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “A couple times a week,” he says. “If it’s a good week. If not, more.”
“I’m no expert,” I say. “But that sounds like PTSD in some way.”
He shakes his head. “Nope,” he says. He sounds a little angry.
“Noah,” I say. “I didn’t mean anything by it…It’s just that… I’m really starting to care about you, and I don’t want you to have to go through this all alone.”
“I’ve got to go,” says Noah suddenly.
He gets up and starts getting dressed.
“Noah,” I say. “Come on, stay. We can talk about this.”
“I don’t have anything I need to talk about,” says Noah.
Before I realize what’s actually happening, since my head is still heavy with sleep, Noah’s out the bedroom door and walking downstairs.
I follow him after throwing on a bathrobe over my naked body, but he’s already got the front door open. The last thing I want to do is cause a scene and follow him half naked out into the front yard, where someone might see me if they’re up and awake. After all, the newspaper guys tend to come out for deliveries around this time of night.
I watch his back as he walks away. He turns once to look at me. There’s a strange expression on his face, one of pain and something else… is it longing, regret, or something else altogether?
I head back inside with a heavy heart. I can actually feel the pain there, where there was nothing but joy only a few hours earlier.
So does Noah have PTSD, or something else? I’m not sure. Like I said, I’m certainly no expert, and I’m not going to try to diagnose him on the fly, without even the remotest hint of credentials.
But what I do know is that he definitely has a problem… whatever it is. And he’s apparently not willing to deal with it.
Isn’t it a little strange or perhaps hypocritical that he’s promoting this book about his experiences, trying to promote a positive message, yet he’s having these flashbacks so many nights of the week?
I can understand it… After all, how can I say that he’s hypocritical when I don’t tell him that he’s James’s father?
The moment never came tonight… I was so close to telling him… But things got in the way. Passion overcame me and I couldn’t get the words out. Temptation is always so close at hand. I don’t know how to get over that.
I should rush after him now, and tell him. But I can’t leave James here alone.
I should call him, but this isn’t the type of thing you tell someone over the phone.
Plus, am I really sure that I want to tell him?
If I tell him, he’s going to be involved in James’s life, not to mention mine. But I was envisioning this fairy tale version of things, where Noah and I would raise James together as a couple, whatever that means…
But is Noah ready to be a father? He is ready to raise James, or to be involved in a relationship with me?
I imagine the nightmares and the flashbacks are just the tip of the iceberg with this. Who knows, maybe he has unexplored anger issues. Maybe he’s simply not capable of being in a relationship.
What I know right now is that unless he gets this PTSD thing sorted out, I can’t count on him to be the stable man that I need in my life. I mean, it’s not the nightmares that are the main problem. If he’s not even willing to admit that he has an issue here and take charge and be a man and get it worked out by going to a therapist, for a start… then how do I know that he’s going to be able to work on other issues in his life?
If he won’t confront his issues, then how can I count on him?
I spend the rest of the night drinking instant coffee and staring off into space, deep in thought about my future. About my family’s future. And right now, my family is me and James.
And my mom and dad, but they’re not close…
It’s me and James, and it has been for a long time.
We’re fine, just the two of us.
Before I bring a man into the family, I need to know for sure that he can handle it, that he’s not going to let us down.
James and I have gotten along fine together so far. I’m a good mother. I don’t need someone with all sorts of issues coming in and screwing everything up.
I’m surprised by the turn of my own thoughts, but something about seeing Noah in that state after the nightmare was like a wakeup call to me. I realize now that we’ve been in the honeymoon phase of getting to know each other.
That means that we only see the good things in each other… so far we’ve spent most of the time together having incredibly hot, passionate sex. There hasn’t been much time for the issues to crop up. But the issues always do.
Maybe I’ve been naïve about this whole thing. I’ve been convincing myself that I do need to tell Noah.
The sink in the kitchen is still full of dishes from the wonderful dinner that the three of us shared.
No one thought to clean them up, me included.
But Noah didn’t even offer. Should he have done that as a guest?
I know it seems like a small thing. After all, no one’s required to wash dishes at my house. But if he doesn’t offer to do things like that, what would it be like if I were actually living with him, and in a relationship with him?
I’m getting away ahead of myself. It’s my old anxiety creeping back up, imagining all these future possibilities. Worrying about things that haven’t even happened.
But maybe it’s good that I haven’t told him yet.
In the dark silence of the house, I hear my phone ringing in my purse.
I rush over to it so that it doesn’t wake up James.
After all, James is my priority.
Normally, I always turn off my phone before going to bed. But I guess Noah and I got carried away and I didn’t do the things I normally do.
Noah’s name appears on the caller ID.
Should I pick it up?
Noah
She doesn’t answer the phone. But she sends it to voicemail after the first ring, so I know she saw me calling.
I sigh and put the phone down in the center console of my rental car.
I fucked up. Hard. And I know it.
I should have told her about my issues with sleeping.
After all, that was the first night I spent there, and I should have mentioned at least something. Like: “Oh, yeah, by the way, I might wake up in the middle of the night reaching fo
r my gun, thinking people are trying to kill me.”
The dream that I had tonight is still fresh in my mind. I won’t be getting any sleep tonight. It was different from all the other dreams, and the difference was that it was Hana I was trying to protect. Normally, I’m trying to protect myself in those dreams. Or I’m trying to protect others.
I don’t try to put much stock in those dreams. After all, they’re just my mind working out kinks from my past. It’s the brain rewriting itself through stories. The mind spins narratives, in attempts to make sense of things that can’t be made sense of.
I guess that now that I’ve been seeing Hana again, I feel like I need to protect her.
But maybe the only way I can protect her is to stay away from her. Far away from her.
Maybe she’s right… I need to confront this issue.
It’s not just the nightmares. It’s not just the dreams.
I don’t even know how to explain it to myself. But it’s like I lost a part of myself out there… on the missions.
Part of me never returned. Or it did return… I don’t know. Maybe I brought something back with me that I wasn’t expecting. I did go through a lot of shit. A lot of shit that most people never see in their lifetimes.
My mind turns back to Chris for a moment. That day in the hospital when I visited him… His legs were gone…
It still haunts me.
God knows why that motivated me to sign up myself.
And I watched my dad waste his life away with those pain pills. Looking back on it now, I don’t really know how much physical pain he was in. How much of it was mental? How much did he go through when he was in the service, mentally and emotionally?
I’ll never really know. He never talked about it. But it must have been a lot.
At the end, from what I can tell, judging by his sporadic letters to me, he had completely given up the will to live. As far as he was concerned, his role in raising me was done. I became an adult in his eyes the minute I was done with high school. That was it for him. He had his money coming in every month. He didn’t need to work. He didn’t have anything to do. Just watch TV. That’s no way to live, and he knew it.
It’s not like he did it himself, really. He just gradually lost that drive, that will… and he’d just sit in front of the TV.
Seeing Chris and my Dad, knowing how the wars had affected them—why did I want to join up myself? Was it the only thing I knew to do?
I don’t regret it for a minute. Not even a single second.
I did what I had to do.
But there was a price to pay.
And I can’t let Hana pay that price with me.
I’d been thinking I could settle down with her. I could help her raise James, who seems like a great kid.
But maybe I can’t. Maybe it would be a disaster.
Like I said, it’s not just the nightmares. Maybe it’s that I’m just not cut out for civilian life. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I’m parked on the side of the dark road. The moon is shining down, but somehow the street seems incredibly dark.
I’ve got the windows down and I can feel the air. It’s hot but it’s not the same lovely type of heat I’ve been feeling so far here. This is a thick, stale heat that seems to creep into my bones. It’s the heat of inertia, of nothingness.
I pick up my phone again and run my hands over the plastic. I flip the phone over in my hands, playing with it. But I don’t call her.
It’s too late, I tell myself.
She’s probably gone back to bed. I don’t want to wake her up.
But just as I’m thinking this, I get a call from her.
“Hello?” I say.
“Hi,” she says. Her voice is tired and… different.
“I’m sorry about that,” I say. “I should have told you about those… problems I’ve been having with sleeping. It probably scared you to wake up to that.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment.
“It’s not that,” she says.
What does she mean by that?
“It wasn’t that bad,” she says. “But… I think maybe there are some things you need to address…”
“I’m fine,” I say, repeating the line that I’ve told myself a thousand times.
“Maybe,” she says. “I’m not trying to judge you… But maybe it would be a good idea if we took a little time… you know… a little break. Things have been moving so fast… And I’ve got James to think about, you know? And I know you’re going to be leaving soon…”
I don’t say anything for a moment.
I stare out the window of the car and feel like my world’s falling apart.
But I don’t say that.
Instead I say, “Yeah. Maybe that’s a good idea. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Wait,” she says. “It doesn’t…”
But I don’t wait for what she has to say.
I hang up the phone.
I instantly regret it. But it’s too late to call her back. It’s all too late.
I feel a sense of dread washing over me.
I shouldn’t have done that. I’m just being a dick for some reason.
Fuck it. It’s not too late to call her back. That’s just that idiotic voice inside of myself. What am I thinking?
I hit the button to call her back. But it goes to voicemail after one ring.
I try again, but the same thing happens.
Fine, I think to myself.
“Listen,” I say, speaking to the voicemail. “I shouldn’t have hung up on you like that… Maybe things are moving a little fast. But I feel things for you that… I haven’t felt for anyone else… I don’t want to lose that and I don’t want to lose you. Give me a call when you’re… you know, ready to talk about it all.”
I head back to my hotel room, driving down the hot, dark streets. The headlights illuminate the road in front of me with that eerie artificial glow.
There’s an older man working behind the desk at the hotel.
He nods at me as I walk in.
For some reason, I can tell that he was in the military at some point. Obviously he’s not wearing his uniform or any medals or anything, so I don’t know what branch of the armed forces he was in.
But there’s a certain way former military guys tend to walk and stand. Even the expression on their face is recognizable.
“Navy?” I say.
He shakes his head. “Marines.”
I nod. “You guys are tough as nails.”
“Navy Seals?” he says.
Maybe he’s seen my picture somewhere, or an advertisement for my book. Or maybe he’s seen me on TV. Maybe he can just tell by the way that I walk.
“Yeah,” I say. “Although I’m starting to wonder why I did it. It’s just causing me problems…”
“You know why you did it,” he says. He speaks slowly, his voice cracking a little as he speaks.
“I guess I do,” I say. “And I don’t regret a minute of it. I was trying to, you know, accomplish something. And that’s what I did. But…”
“You having trouble sleeping?” he says, giving me a piercing look.
“How did you know?”
“That’s what happened to me,” he says. “I saw things… you know how it is. You probably went through something similar. Although everyone’s experiences are similar. I wasn’t sleeping at all. It started affecting my life. I had a good job at a bank when I came back. I lost it, though, and now I’m working here.”
“Nothing wrong with a job at a hotel,” I say. “Good, honest, hard work.”
He chuckles. “No,” he says. “There’s nothing wrong with it. But I lost my chance at a good pension. And I lost my family.”
“What happened?”
“I was stressed. But I didn’t realize it. I was yelling at my wife. I was hopping off to the bars.”
I nod. Meanwhile, I’m thinking that if I was with Hana, I wouldn’t ever do that. It’s not like I’m going to blow up at her over nothi
ng like this guy. I’ve got better control of my anger.
“I never expected it to happen to me,” he says. “But it did.”
“So now you work here,” I say. I can’t think of anything else to say.
“Yup. And I started going to a group of vets. You know, most of the time we just shoot the shit and whatever. But it helped me… get more stable, you know?”
“Sounds like it worked for you,” I say.
“Maybe you should give it a try.”
“Thanks,” I say. “But I’m not that bad off. That’s for people like you who really went through some shit. What I saw wasn’t that bad.”
Images flash through my mind of one of my buddies getting shot in his shoulder.
I shake the image off.
It’s not that bad.
The old vet gives me a piercing look and shrugs.
“Well,” he says. “Then you’re one of the lucky ones, I guess.”
I nod and head up to my room.
I lie down in bed. After all, I’ve barely slept tonight.
I don’t bother stripping down. I just lie in bed in my clothes. My mind’s racing. I can’t stop thinking about Hana.
My phone rings.
Shit, I bet it’s her.
I reach for it on the bed side table.
“Hana?” I say, not bothering to look to see who’s calling.
“Hana? Is that your new nickname for me? Or are you already having luck with the ladies.”
It’s Dan’s voice. What is my agent doing calling me so early in the morning?
“Hi Dan,” I say.
“Sorry to call you so late, or so early, however you want to put it. I figured you might be up already doing exercise or something.”
I grunt an acknowledgment.
“Listen,” he says. “There’s been a change of plans. Remember the Bob Show?”
“Of course,” I say. “Next week, right? I’ve got it on the calendar on my phone.”
“Well there’s been a scheduling change. Basically, I need you on a plane to LA today.”
“Today? What happened to next week?”
“They told me they had a cancelation. You know how those shows are. I needed to change it.”
“Why couldn’t you just tell them I couldn’t do it?”
SEAL'd Lips: A Secret Baby Romance Page 13
