Operation: Stripped & Stranded

by E Kay Sims

  “I’m really sorry to hear that. I know it happens, and it shouldn’t. I can only imagine what it’s like being a female in the military. I hope you reported the guy.”

  “Yeah, but to no avail. Far as I know, he still works there, but this was three years ago, so… who knows?”

  For a moment we were silent, both pondering our thoughts as we ate dinner.

  “Anyway,” she continued between bites, “you said you’re stationed at Fort Lewis Joint Base?” Her eyes met mine again.

  “Yeah, for now. I’m at the end of my enlistment and I have to decide if I want to stay in and re-enlist for another term, extend, or get out.”

  “What’s the deciding factor?” she asked and folded her hands in her lap, having finished her meal.

  “A few things, actually.” I hesitated to elaborate, not wanting to seem weak in her eyes.

  “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it––none of my business, really.” She took another sip of her wine.

  “No, it’s not that…” I paused to collect my thoughts. “I just don’t know if it’s the best thing for me right now. I want to re-enlist for the bonus––and get it tax free––but, I would have to volunteer for another deployment, otherwise, if I remain stateside and re-enlist, I pay out the nose in taxes. Not sure if I want another deployment, right now.”

  “Ah,” she tilted her head, “I see. And?”

  I dropped my gaze and pushed back slightly from the table, finished eating. She waited patiently for me to continue.

  “Well, the obvious reasons, for starters,” I began, “the reason why I attended the workshop is a big factor.” I avoided using the term PTSD.

  She only nodded, her face serene and without judgment.

  “The nature of my profession puts me in grave danger while on deployment. I did fill out the workshop forms stating that I’m an Army Ranger, Special Forces. I assume you read it.” At her nod, I continued, “And I’ve had way too many close calls lately. After a while, you start to get a feeling, you know?” I looked up at her, hoping she understood.

  “I’ve heard of what you’re referring to.” She nodded again, encouraging me to go on.

  I don’t know why, but I found myself opening up to her. She made it easy. I could be myself with her. I wasn’t afraid of her finding me weak or judging me for being a coward. Before I knew it, I was telling her all about Rico, my best friend in the Army.

  “It was like he somehow knew it was going to be his last day on this Earth. He couldn’t stop shaking while we got ready to go out on target. Kept re-checking his gear, his weapons, making sure everything was in order. I remember he pulled out the rosary his mother had sent him like he always did, but this time he actually prayed instead of just kissing the cross like usual and when he finished, he draped it over the photo of his fiancée hanging in his locker.”

  I looked up toward the ceiling before continuing, tried to check the tears I felt burning at the corners of my eyes.

  “Hours later, we were in a fire fight, thanks to bad intel, holed up in a crumbling building and calling for backup. Rico was pissed. He kept saying, ‘I knew it! I knew this day was coming. I’m not ready, Goddammit, I’m not ready to die.’ Before he even got hit, he made me promise to call his fiancée if anything happened to him….”

  I wanted to say more but then, I just couldn’t over the lump in my throat. I didn’t trust myself to hold my shit together in this very public place. I wasn’t ready to examine or reveal those dark places in my soul, or my mind, to myself let alone this woman I’d just met, no matter how strong the connection was between us.

  “It’s okay, Eric. We don’t have to talk about your friend if you don’t want to.” She reached her hand across the table to touch mine, gently, comforting me. “I know it’s not enough, but I am truly sorry for your loss.” EZee’s words filled the silence that had fallen between us when I couldn’t finish the story about Rico.

  Her warm fingers brushed my knuckles, sending sparks between us. It was what I needed to snap me out of my funk.

  “I’ve never told anyone about Rico before now.” I looked across the table at her. “You’re easy to talk to. Sorry, if it was TMI––I barely know you, but it feels like I’ve known you forever.”

  I found myself turning her hand over in mine, my thumb caressing the smooth, delicate inside of her wrist. Fascinated, I watched the goosebumps rise on her silky skin.

  “I know it sounds crazy,” she whispered, “but I feel like I’ve known you forever, too.” She sucked in her breath when my thumb slid to the center of her palm. My fingers held her hand loosely as I began to draw circles on her palm. “What are you doing to me, Eric Thorsen?” She bit her lower lip, her gorgeous hazel eyes widened when she met my gaze.

  I could see the effect I was having on her. She wasn’t alone. She deeply affected me as well.

  “Do you want to take a walk,” I asked softly but then remembered her limp. “Or we could take an Uber or the shuttle bus somewhere, do something fun? Pretty sure my buddy took off with a stripper in the rental car and left me stranded again, so…” I waited for her reply.

  “Oh no! For real?” She laughed, then covered her mouth, checking that no one in the restaurant had heard her outburst.

  “Yep, and it’s not the first time he’s left me to fend for myself on this trip.” My voice sounded like I was put out. Changing the subject, I quickly asked, “How about that gondola ride?”

  “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ve been wanting to try that gondola ride, if it’s not too late.” She laughed at herself. “And definitely that roller coaster at New York, New York.”

  “I’d like that.” I smiled. “Let’s do it!” Then I helped her to her feet.

  A while later, we were floating down the faux Venetian canal, listening to our gondolier sing in Italian. He was actually quite good. I held EZee’s hand loosely in my own with an arm around her shoulders as we relaxed back against the cushions. Being with her felt like the most natural thing in the world. I’d have to be careful or I’d really start falling for this girl.

  EZEE

  I tried, I really did, but it was impossible not to fall for this guy. Under any other circumstances, he would be my ideal man––charming, intelligent, witty, a good conversationalist, strong with a body to die for––Lord, he was a specimen––and he was employed with a steady income––even if it was the Army. Then there was the PTSD factor. I couldn’t just ignore that knowing what I know and doing what I do for a living. He had a long road ahead of him and a lot of work to do to overcome his issues, or at least to learn how to manage them.

  Don’t get me wrong, I understood. I could empathize, but I’d never been in combat so I couldn’t fathom what he’d been through. I could research and read all the books and take all the trainings, but I would never really know what it was like to have my best friend die an agonizing death in my arms. To have to kill or be killed, literally, with bombs going off and bullets whizzing all around me. I’d never know what it was like to be shot, stabbed, or blown up. Eric had experienced all of that and more. The brutality of war changes a person forever. I wished I’d known what Eric was like before joining the Army. But then, I thought of how painful it would be to see how war changed him. I genuinely liked the man he was now, but still, I wondered what the old Eric had been like.

  We sat in the comfortable silence that had fallen between us as our gondolier serenaded us. The gondola looked like an authentic original, though I knew it was painstakingly made by hand to look that way. I could almost believe we were transported to Italy as we floated along the Grand Canal, past the cafes and shops with their faux Venetian facades. We glided under elegant bridges and past enchanting Venetian streetscapes. The ceiling was painted to look like the sky, so real looking that it even changed from day to night with realistic looking twinkling stars. It was all so very romantic.

  The ride ended all too soon. I was sad when it was over, wishing I could remain snuggled up next
to Eric’s warm body with his massive arm around me. He helped me to disembark first. His hand held mine, as his other hand lightly gripped my hip until I was steady on the platform. I appreciated how considerate he was without making it obvious that he was aware of my limp. Then he followed suit, climbing up onto the platform and led me toward an exit that opened up on the Las Vegas Strip.

  “Where to, milady?” He dipped his head toward me to be heard above the street noise. “You still up for that rollercoaster ride?” A dimple at the corner of his cheek deepened with his grin and I didn’t miss the boyish twinkle in his eyes.

  “Absolutely!” I nodded and grinned back, feeling once again like a foolish girl on her first date. My heart skipped a beat when he pulled me into his hard chest and planted a kiss on my open mouth.

  He released me abruptly, catching my hand in his, then hailed a cab to take us to New York, New York. We didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes, we were weaving in and out of traffic as our cabby expertly navigated his way down the Strip toward our destination.

  I watched fascinated as the neon lights flashed against the desert night sky; so many lights that I couldn’t see the stars above. Eric held my hand the whole way, his thumb caressed the inside curve of my wrist, the sensation giving me delicious tingles down my spine as butterflies did cartwheels in my stomach. It was a short ride, and soon we pulled up along the curb in front of the casino, made to look like the New York cityscape.

  “Whew! The fastest trip I’ve ever taken from Italy to New York,” our cabbie joked in his thick Italian accent.

  I smiled at his sense of humor as Eric paid the fare. “Thank you—grazie,” I said, sliding across the seat to exit as Eric held the door for me. I’d picked up some Italian when I’d been stationed at Aviano.

  “The pleasure was all mine, signorina. Buona sera.” He brought his fingers to his brow as if he were touching the brim of an imaginary hat.

  “Good night,” Eric said. “Thanks again.” He closed the door of the cab.

  “Wow,” I breathed, gazing up in awe of the re-creation of the Manhattan skyline and the hundred and fifty-foot replica of the Statue of Liberty, all lit up in her greenish patina with a golden nimbus encircling her crown of seven spikes.

  “Well this should be fun,” Eric said, as he led me through the crowded entrance. “Gil said it was worth fighting the crowds for.”

  The crowd was impressive and not in a good way. The air was stifling, mixed with the smell of sweat combined with the perfumed scent wafting from the entrance of the building. All the bigger casinos pumped some sort of custom fragrance through the air vents, enticing their guests to spend more at the slot machines and gaming tables. I personally loved The Palazzo and The Venetian’s custom scent, Arancia––a blend of white jasmine, rose, Italian mandarin, and sandalwood layered with amber and musk. I saw candles with the scent in the gift shop. I should probably grab some before leaving tomorrow.

  We had to push our way through the droves of people to get to the entrance. I hated crowds, and it was hot as hell even though it was September and the air conditioning was cranked up full blast. The heat wasn’t so bad once we went further into the building. I was grateful it was quite a bit cooler, actually, especially when the crowds dispersed and thinned throughout the casino.

  Finally, we’d worked our way through Park Avenue, Broadway, Time Square, the Financial District, and Greenwich Village–– the indoor cityscape of New York, New York. Trying to read the directional signs was a bitch, mostly because we were distracted by the sights and sounds of the environment, but also because the layout was not navigational friendly. We went through the Village Street Eateries twice before we found our turn.

  At last, we made our way to the Big Apple Coaster and Arcade, reminiscent of the Coney Island Amusement park in the early nineteen hundreds, right down to the mid-way style carnival games. We heard the rumbling of the roller coaster overhead, which made me think of the subway—it sounded so similar, minus the screams. The closer we got, the more excited I became. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been on a roller coaster.

  The roller coaster cars were made to replicate classic New York City taxi cabs. The coaster itself was the first-ever to feature the “heartline” twist and dive maneuver, its highest point at two-hundred and three feet with its highest drop at a hundred and forty-four feet, and boasted a maximum speed of sixty-seven miles per hour.

  “We should get a souvenir photo and buy a re-ride pass.” Eric grinned at me. “Once is not going to be enough, I can tell already.” We stood in line and watched the cars fly by with its screaming occupants.

  “Sure, I’m game,” I said with false bravery. “Not sure about the photo, though.” I laughed. “I may just throw-up.” I gave up on the false bravery.

  “If you don’t want to do this, say the word. We can find something less adventurous for you.” Eric squeezed my hand, looking only slightly disappointed.

  “No, I’m not backing out now,” I said firmly. “I’ve always wanted to try this, so let’s just do it. It says it only lasts two minutes and forty-five seconds. If I vomit, I’ll try not to get any on you.” I winked at him and flashed a crooked smile.

  “No worries, I’ve been splattered with worse,” he said, turning his head to watch the roller coaster go screaming by with the next batch of passengers.

  It took a moment for his words to register. I could only imagine what could possibly be worse. Unfortunately, I had a pretty good imagination. I squeezed his hand and stepped closer to him as we moved forward in the queue.

  We were next in line. I shifted from one foot to other in nervous anticipation.

  “It’s your lucky night, folks, front row seats.” The attendant ushered us forward, then made sure we were properly secured in our harnesses once we were seated.

  “You ready?” Eric turned to smile at me and his shoulder pressed against mine. He barely fit in the car with his height and size.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I took a deep breath and gave him a weak smile in return.

  My heart lurched when the car started forward, then began to thump in my chest as we made the slow chug, chug, chug up the steep incline.

  “Here we go!” Eric shouted as we paused at the top.

  The view from up there was incredible––it was my last thought just before we plummeted down that first drop. A scream of exhilaration was torn from my throat, my head pressed back against the seat, the wind whipped at my hair. I don’t think I stopped screaming as we accelerated through the first barrel roll, turning upside down, and then the second barrel roll, upside down again. Time stood still as seconds seemed like minutes and yet, it flew by at an amazing pace. And then I found myself laughing hysterically at the end.

  “Oh, my God! We have to do it again!” I looked at Eric, grinning so hard, my cheeks hurt.

  “Thatta girl!” he shouted as he lifted a hand to high five me.

  After the second time, I felt like every bone in my body had been rattled loose and I was pretty sure there were bruises down my spine and tailbone. By the time we exited the ride, they had our souvenir photos ready from the first ride.

  “Oh, good grief! Look at my face!” I exclaimed. “I can’t decide if I’m terrified or thrilled––maybe both.” My eyes were wide open, along with my mouth in a combination smile-scream.

  In the photo, Eric’s head was turned toward me, a broad grin on his handsome face.

  “You looked like you were having the time of your life,” he said, his deep tan made the blue of his eyes glow as his gaze swept over me.

  I gulped, my throat suddenly dry. “Let’s go get a drink, I’m dying of thirst after all that screaming.” I laughed.

  Eric took my hand in his and led me back the way we had come and then to Tom’s Urban restaurant and bar. We opted to sit in the patio area facing the mini Brooklyn Bridge, situated directly across the street from the MGM Grand. Eric sat with his back to the nearest wall facing outward to watch the p
eople walk by on the street.

  It did not escape my notice, nor all the female attention Eric got as we found our seats and, even before that as we made our way through the public areas of the resort. Polite women took a double take glance at him, but others blatantly stared, literally frozen in their tracks as we walked by. He got so much attention that I felt like I was on the arm of a celebrity.

  The waiter showed up with glasses of ice water and set them down before us.

  “What may I get you, tonight, ma’am?” He looked directly at me, then his eyes swiped quickly, deliberately over me before meeting my gaze.

  “I’d love a glass of Prosecco, thank you,” I replied, lifting my hair up off the back of my neck, damp with perspiration from the heat of the desert. I took a sip of my ice water.

  The evening had yet to cool from the blazing sun and high temperatures from earlier in the day.

  “Good choice, one of my favorites.” He smiled showing his crooked teeth. “And for you, sir?” he asked, turning toward Eric.

  “Arrogant Bastard,” Eric replied, his voice deep and rough around the edges, “bottle please.” Eric’s reply came a second or two after the waiter’s eyes suddenly widened with wariness.

  It took me a moment to realize Eric had ordered a brew off their menu board and wasn’t actually calling our waiter an ‘arrogant bastard.’ I smiled inwardly because I thought Eric had chosen that particular brew to make a not so subtle point to our waiter. The guy had been giving me the once over right in front of Eric––he didn’t know we weren’t actually a couple, but still, the audacity of the guy!

  “Perfect! Anything else?” he asked, keeping his eyes on Eric. “You want to start a tab?”

  “No, that’s all for now, thanks,” Eric dismissed him, turning toward me and I half expected the guy to salute him before he turned on his heel to go back into the building with our order.