Ravel

by Ryan, Shari J.

  “A prisoner,” she says, repeating after me. “Just like she feared.”

  “He’s an Infantryman. He’s always put in high-risk situations. She feared it because she knew the likelihood and the possibility.” I achingly turn my body toward her and sweep my hand down the side of her face, enjoying the silkiness of her skin. “Let’s talk about you and the life that I missed. Fill me in.”

  She leans in and places her lips over mine. I grab her by the waist and pull her over onto my lap until she’s straddling me. Six months without this. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers into my ear.

  “You’ll just have to do all the work,” I respond, grinning like an idiot.

  She pulls back, her big eyes looking right into mine. “You must be in a lot of pain.” She looks like one of those porcelain dolls when she looks at me like this.

  “I don’t care. This will make me forget about the pain.” Her hands lower to the hem of my t-shirt and she pushes it up to my neck, probably admiring the large bruises covering the right side of my body. “They look worse than they are.”

  “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” she says. “There’s no way I won’t hurt you. I can’t be the one who hurts you.”

  “Nothing can possibly hurt as much as not being able to see you for six months, Daph.” The doleful look in her eyes tells me she’s not taking this any further, but the movement of her small fingertips tracing lines up and down the curves of my stomach tell me otherwise.

  Her hands cross around her body as she lifts her dress up and over her head. I do my best to unbuckle my pants and tug them off with one hand—she helps. I pull her down on top of me until we’re lying across the couch. I feel so fucking lucky to be alive at this moment, knowing how close I was to being Jeffries. He was supposed to drive the vehicle, but things changed at the last minute and I ended up driving instead. More guilt. Guilt will forever haunt me. I know I should have been in his seat and in turn, in that coffin on the way home, and here I am about to get laid by my perfect wife. I press my hand up against her shoulder. “Wait.”

  “What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?” she asks, panicked. “I can’t do this.” I was telling her to stop for a different reason, but she slides off of me and pulls her dress back over her head. “I’m so sorry,” she says.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for.” I don’t think.

  I watch her clutch at herself like I know she does when she’s lacking confidence. Trent stripped her of most of it, but I see now she still has a weakness and I’m not making it any better.

  I pull myself up off the couch, trying my hardest not to groan and make this sound worse than it is. As I bring myself to my feet, I find her in the kitchen, fixing a sandwich. “You must be starving,” she says.

  She places it down on a plate and slides it across the counter for me, doing her best not to make eye contact. “Daph?” She looks up at me with tears glazing over her eyes. “Did something happen while I was gone? You don’t seem right.” And it’s scaring the shit out of me.

  “This isn’t the homecoming I had imagined,” she said, letting the tears fall one by one. “I wanted everything to go back to normal, like we paused life when you left and now we’re pressing play again. But it can’t be like that, can it?” she asks, but I don’t think she’s really asking. “Life kept going when you left and I pushed through each day, wondering what you were doing. I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty or anything like that. There was just stuff I wanted to tell you about, and I didn’t realize until it started happening that I couldn’t just pick up the phone and tell you about my day, or about the fact that Trent walked into the commissary one day.”

  Trent. Here on base. Fury is instantly boiling through me. What the fuck is that asshole doing on base? This is why I wanted her to live here, so I could protect her from him, but he’s here? Of all goddamn places.

  “Trent walked into the commissary?” I repeat after her.

  “He enlisted,” she says, looking scared, but I’m not sure if she’s scared of him or my reaction.

  “Has he been here at our house?” I’m trying my hardest to swallow my anger right now, but I can’t hide it. He put her into the hospital before I left and now he’s here.

  Why is she taking so long to answer? I’m breathing heavily through my nose as I take all of the mail off the counter and throw it across the room. I bust out through the front door and down the steps before she has a chance to respond.

  I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to fucking breathe. I feel like someone just threw a boulder at my chest. I know I didn’t give her a chance, but she had plenty of time to quickly say, “No way.” She didn’t say anything when I walked out the door, and she hasn’t run after me. She did see him. I know it. What if she’s back with him? What if he swooped in and redid everything I tried to undo—the hours I spent making her believe how beautiful, amazing, and smart she is. I tried my hardest to convince her she was everything he told her she wasn’t. It was all for nothing. Oh God, what if he’s raping her again? My wife.

  The pain in my arm is burning and I want to rip the fucking thing off. I end up at a bench where I drop down and let my head fall between my knees. I clench my eyes shut and all I see are explosions. I can’t do this. I can’t deal with this. I’m done. I’m so done.

  A hand skates across my back and I lift my head, finding Daphne beside me. “It’s not what you’re thinking, Kemper.” I know this should bring me relief, but it doesn’t. She’s not telling me something. What isn’t she telling me?

  “Then what? Did you two become best friends or something? How does that work, Daphne? The guy beat the shit out of you. Did you forget?” I press my palm against the side of my face, running it up and down against my stubble. Fuck.

  She stands up, tucking her hands into her pockets. “He came into the commissary a few times and there was nothing more than small talk. That was it, I swear to you, but after the ambush I guess he found out about what happened to you and he showed up at the house. He was banging on the door trying to talk to me, but I didn’t let him in.”

  “He knows where we live?” I ask, breathing heavily.

  “I thought when he left, he was gone, but when I came out of Jennifer’s later, he was back at our front door again.”

  “Stop. Just stop.” I might blow up. I stand up and walk away—I’m acting like my asshole stepdad. I tried to convince myself he never rubbed off on me, but my anger sometimes reminds me of his. Right now, though, I’m running away to save her from how pissed off I’m about to get. I don’t want her to see this side of me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CURRENT DAY

  Dear Journal,

  I never imagined the night he got home being like this. I’ve been sitting at the kitchen table for the past hour alone, toying with the tea bag in my mug. I made him a cup too, but he’s not here to drink it. I don’t know where he is and I’m unsure if I should chase after him or not. All I can do is wait.

  - Daphne

  DAPHNE

  WHAT MUST BE TWO HOURS after he left, the door opens and closes softly, and I turn to find him soaking wet, clutching at his arm. “It’s raining out,” he says, trying to take his shirt off. Jumping up from my seat, I run over to help him, but he pulls away from me. “I got it.”

  He slips the sling off his shoulder and struggles to pull his t-shirt up above his head. His eyes are clenched shut and the pain written on his face is causing the same kind of pain in my heart.

  “Kemper,” I beg, “please talk to me.”

  He drops his arms, releases his shirt, and drops his head. “I did everything I could to keep you safe, and I fucking failed.”

  “I’m fine.” I spread my arms out, showing him how fine I am. “Everything is okay.”

  “He’s stationed here,” he nearly growls.”

  “Yes. He passed through boot camp and was evidently lucky enough to get stationed here too.”

  “Where is he
now?” Does he think I would really know? I can’t understand what’s going through his mind. I didn’t ask for this.

  “I told him never to come back again. So did Jennifer. That was four days ago. I haven’t seen him since.” I don’t know if he’s calming down or if he’s getting more pissed off. All I know is he’s beat red and his jaw is grinding together.

  “I wanted you here so he couldn’t find you and now he knows where we live, Daphne.” Why is he saying it like I gave him our address? Why is he saying it like I caused this?

  “Is that the only reason you married me?” Now I’m the one taking a step away from him. He’s said it a couple of times; that he wanted to keep me safe and away from Trent. I’m starting to wonder if that’s the only reason he wanted to marry me so soon after we met.

  “You know that’s not the only reason, Daphne,” he says, reaching out to me. “I told you not to think that and you said you understood that.”

  “But it is one of the reasons.” I don’t ask him this. I know this. “Well you’re back now and you probably aren’t getting deployed anytime soon, so since I’m not safe here now—“ I can’t finish my sentence. It hurts too much.

  “Whoa, hold up now, what are you saying?” Now his anger looks as if it is directed at me, as he grabs me by the waist and pulls me into him. “Don’t, for one second, think that any of the thousands of reasons I wanted to marry you add up to more than the fact that I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, including my own family. You are the one thing that got me through my deployment. I fought to stay alive for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I died for a minute there. They had to revive me, and the only thing I could think about was keeping my promise to you, knowing that there was no way in hell I was going to be another source of pain in your life. I couldn’t do that.”

  My eyes are welling up and my face feels hot as I look into his eyes, seeing nothing but the truth, fear, pain, and anguish. “I didn’t mean what I said,” I offer. Although, in truth, we were together for such a short time before he left, maybe it was all a mistake.

  “Give me this,” he says, pulling my ring from my finger. “You’re right.”

  “I’m right?” This is over? But he just said...I don’t get it.

  “This is just a ring. Our marriage is just a piece of paper. I want you to fall in love with me slowly and over time. I know I already love you, but I also know there’s so much more to love, and it’s not something that can happen in a year. We need to stay married in order to live together here on base, but that doesn’t mean this is as good as it gets. Maybe we’re doing things a little backwards, but marriage is defined as two people committing to each other. It doesn’t define the people in the marriage. We’re still new and learning about each other and that’s not going to change.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying,” I tell him.

  “Let’s give us time. Let’s do things right—forget about our marriage and commitments. Just love me.”

  “Do you want a divorce?” I laugh through a soft cry.

  “No, but I’m tossing this ring and the idea of marriage as far as I can throw them. When we catch up to them, they’ll be there waiting for us. It won’t be rushed; it’ll be earned and worked for. I don’t want you to ever question my reasons for wanting to marry you or be with you. I want you to always know it’s for no other reason than pure love.”

  “Oh,” I say, contemplating the meaning of all this.

  “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.” I trust him, but I sort of feel like I just lost my husband too. “Besides, sex for married people can get boring, and we have a lot of time to make up for right now.”

  That brings a small smile to my lips. “Keep talking.”

  “How about I stop talking?” He grabs my hand and leads me down the hallway and into our bedroom, where he lifts me up with his good arm and eases me onto the bed. “I only need one arm for this.”

  I help him with his pants and his boxers while he’s tearing at my clothes. “Six months is a long time,” I whisper.

  “I’ll be gentle.”

  I swing my leg over his waist and lean down to kiss him, letting my hair hang over his chest, tickling his skin, feeling him harden beneath me. His grip tightens over my side and I guide him into me. His body rocks in a fluid motion, up and down, filling me completely while I fold over and press my lips to his, letting the tip of my tongue drag along his bottom lip. Small groans escape his mouth; making me work harder at bringing him pleasure after the pain he’s experienced. His eyes close and his lips part. “I have thought of this so many times,” he says breathlessly. “But, damn, my memories don’t even come close.”

  ***

  I’m not sure I slept. I spent the night staring at Kemper, thanking God for answering my prayers and keeping him alive for me. But because life can’t be put on hold, I pull myself off the bed and grab my clothes out of the closet. “Hey,” I whisper, not wanting to startle him awake. “I have to go to work.”

  His eyelids open lazily. “The commissary, right?” After not speaking for a month, it’s hard to remember how much could have changed in that period of time.

  “Mmhm,” I smile and place a kiss on his cheek. “I love you. Goodbye,” I whisper into his ear. “I’ll be home around three this afternoon. Be ready for me.”

  I take the jeep over to the commissary like I do every morning. I unlock the front door, flip on the lights, and close the door, locking it behind me since the store doesn’t open for another hour. Then I head into the back room to retrieve the petty cash for the registers...

  I wish I didn’t walk into the back room.

  I wish I didn’t lock the front door.

  I wish I didn’t turn the lights on.

  I wish I didn’t drive here.

  I wish I didn’t get into my Jeep.

  I wish I didn’t say goodbye to Kemper.

  I wish I told him I’d see him later.

  “What are you doing?” I try to stay brave, but it’s hard to do with a pistol pointed at me. “You don’t want to do this.” Yeah, trying to reason with crazy is crazy in itself; I’ve told myself that too many times.

  He laughs the laugh that I hate. That hasn’t changed either. “Yes, Daphne, I do want to do this, in the worst way possible. I want to do this so badly that I went through boot camp for ten weeks, just to have access to a weapon…and you. Kemper isn’t winning this time.” Kemper isn’t winning what?

  “Please think about what you’re doing, Trent,” I beg so he’ll point the pistol away from me. After everything Kemper just went through to get back to me...I can’t lose him, and he can’t lose me.

  “There are a couple of rules here, Daphne. If you play by the rules, maybe—well, no probably not—I was going to say I’d spare your life, but I’m really working on not lying anymore,” he laughs. How is pointing a pistol at someone’s head funny? “Rule one: no phone. Rule two: don’t mention that dickwad’s name. You know, my stepbrother, Kemper? The man that married you to keep you safe.” He laughs again. Stepbrother? What? There’s no way they’re related. Kemper would have told me. He would have. Why wouldn’t he have? This can’t be real. This can’t be happening. “Rule three...there is no rule three, so it’s pretty easy. No phone and don’t mention his name.”

  “What do you want from me, Trent?” Talking sense into him is useless; it always has been.

  “Kemper didn’t tell you we grew up together, did he?” Why was this a big secret? He’s known Trent all along? I was never allowed to go into Trent’s stepbrother’s room. I was never allowed in any of the other bedrooms. “That asshole always got the girl in the end, but not this time. I saw his bike at the bar one of those nights and I saw you leave on the back of it hours later. I knew why you broke up with me.” Most of me would like to say “Good” because I’m glad he felt an ounce of hurt, but it wouldn’t matter now. The other part of me wants to give him a million other real reaso
ns I broke up with him. He sighs and takes a seat on the couch. “Remember that night when I told you to promise yourself to me and I gave you a ring?”

  I close my eyes and pull in a sharp breath, “Yes. I remember.”

  “You broke your promise.”

  There are so many things I’d like to say to him right now, but any one of them might make him pull the trigger.

  “My boss is going to be here in twenty minutes,” I tell him. “We can talk this out.” I know we can’t talk anything out. Kemper and Jacey’s words ring loudly in my ears—them telling me to have this guy locked up. Now I realize Kemper probably had more than one reason to have him locked up. I can’t believe he didn’t just tell me.

  He gets up and takes several steps toward me with the pistol pointed directly at my head, making my heart pound so hard that I’m feeling weak. I don’t know how to get out of this. I want to say he won’t do it, but I also didn’t think he’d smash my head into a wall or join the Marines to be close to me. I need to call for help—scream or something, but no one will hear me in here.

  I take steps backwards with a direction in mind, looking up for a brief second, noting the security camera. “I don’t want to have to defend myself against you, Trent.”

  “You have no way of defending yourself, Daphne. This time, I’m winning. You don’t control me. You don’t leave me and make me follow you like a fucking lost dog. No. I’m putting an end to this, and then I’ll know I’ve had the last word.”

  I take one more step and bump into the desk. My waist is up against the top drawer—the drawer concealing a pistol. “Why don’t we just sit down and talk this out?” I sound like a therapist. I don’t know how else to sound right now because the last thing I want to do is talk to a man holding a pistol to my head.

  “You’re right,” he says, throwing his hands up in the air. He turns around and heads for the couch, which gives me enough time to slip my hand into the drawer and retrieve what better be a loaded weapon.