Breaking the Rules

by Liz Durano

  You had everything, man. A wife, a kid on the way… I sigh, rubbing my temples. Why couldn’t you have called me... someone, anyone? Hell, I don’t care. Someone. Why’d you listen to the demons? Why’d you let them win?

  I let the words hang in the air for a few moments. I can sense my frustration building, that familiar feeling of helplessness growing. It’s the same feeling that hits me every time I think of Drew and what could have been if only I’d been there for him… if only I didn’t fuck things up and let everything go to hell.

  What’s done is done, Villier. Just pay your respects and go home.

  But I don’t leave. I’m not about to let my guilt chase me away. Instead, I tell myself to remember all the shit Drew and I did as Marine snipers six years earlier. Crazy times… times that cemented our bond as brothers, where each day we went out on patrol could be our last. And for seven months we did it until Smith stepped on an IED and we came under enemy fire two weeks before we were scheduled to return home.

  I still remember the moment it happened—the boom that changed everything—bodies flying and Drew dragging me to safety as bullets flew past our heads. I thought I’d lose my leg where pieces of shrapnel from the door tore through but after months of surgeries, I’ve still got it. Years later, pieces of that damn shrapnel embedded in my skin still set off airport detectors. I laugh about it now though I wasn’t laughing then.

  The slam of a car door invades my thoughts and I turn my head to see a petite, dark-haired woman lift a baby from the back seat of an SUV. I catch my breath. She’s still as beautiful as I remember her although she’s lost weight since I last saw her at Drew’s funeral a year ago. As she approaches, she frowns when she sees me. She looks almost vulnerable except for the familiar intensity in her hazel eyes.

  Alma Thomas, Drew’s wife. No, his widow.

  A swirl of emotions hits me then—anger that she never told me about the extent of Drew’s problems, sorrow for everything she’s been through since he killed himself, and as she leans toward me to give me a light hug, the baby snug in his wrap in front of her, a fierce surge of an emotion that I refuse to name.

  "Hi, Sawyer, what a surprise to see you." She gives me a light kiss on the cheek. She’s got bags under her eyes where she never used to have them and the light that I always remember is gone. “It’s been a year since I’ve seen you.”

  “Yeah, since the funeral.” A year of staying away with not even a phone call to see how she was holding up. But heaven help me, I’ve lost count of all the times I’ve wanted to. “How are you?”

  “Good.” She pauses, her eyes narrowing as she studies me for a few moments. I’m still in my suit, my dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck, the tie folded neatly in my jacket pocket. “Are you in LA on business?”

  “I was, but I’m off the clock now.” I move the beer can I’d set aside for Drew and help Alma set a blanket on the grass. “Mr. Kheiron flew in to LA this morning and my flight to Santa Fe isn’t till this afternoon. Thought I’d pay the big guy a visit.”

  She smiles. It’s a polite smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. We used to feel comfortable around one another until one day we weren’t and it’s all my fault. I fucked up.

  “How long have you been here?” She sets Tyler down on the blanket and sits cross-legged behind him.

  “Half an hour maybe?” I glance at my watch. Yes, half an hour of wishing I could turn back time and talk Drew out of pulling that damn trigger.

  “I’m really glad you came to visit him. He would have liked it.”

  “I’m glad I’m here, too.” I pause, the silences between us getting longer. I look at Tyler who watches me closely as he chews on a plastic giraffe toy. “He’s getting bigger, isn’t he? He looks just like him, too.”

  She beams. “He does, doesn’t he?”

  Suddenly I wish there was more I could say. For someone who was best friends with her husband, I suddenly feel like a fraud. “Look, Al, I should have called to let you know I was coming. That way, you’d have some privacy.”

  “It’s okay. We come here on Fridays after Reading Hour at the library and I let him run around the garden over there.” She cocks her head toward a fenced-in area with benches and a white gazebo. “It beats sitting at the apartment.”

  “I hadn’t realized you’d moved.”

  “We did.”

  “I drove by your old house, by the way,” I say as her eyes widen in surprise. I don’t know why but it was almost like muscle memory. Before I realized it, I had turned into their street.

  “The house was too big for just Ty and me,” Alma says, her gaze on the ground. “And it was kinda difficult to find a roommate considering what happened in the garage.”

  The silence that hangs between us fills in the blanks we can’t say, about how she came home to find the police cruisers and the ambulance outside the house, the neighbors gawking at the pregnant wife who came home too late. But I push the thought away. I can’t bear to imagine how she must have felt.

  “Your neighbor told me that you moved out of the house a month before it happened.” My voice is accusing now, as if everything that had been bottled up inside me since I last saw Drew alive comes rushing out. “Why didn’t you call me and tell me what was really going on, Al?”

  She looks at me, surprised. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to say that, Sawyer. I did call you. I asked for your help but you couldn’t be bothered.”

  I stare at her for a few moments, the truth behind her words hitting me like a wave that looks innocent at first only to hide an undertow that drags me into its depths. Of course, I remember the phone call. And yes, I did hang up on her because I was in the middle of escorting my client across a tarmac to his plane. But that wasn’t the only reason I cut the call short. After what happened the last time I stopped by their house, Drew gave me no choice. Drew accused me of making a move on his wife, this after six years of friendship.

  He’d been alone in the house when I arrived and didn’t hear the doorbell ring, too busy drinking beer in the backyard with heavy metal blasting from the speakers at eleven in the morning. I remember kicking off my shoes and hanging out with Drew like we always did, calmly trying to convince him to get more help at the VA for his flashbacks and the nightmares, the insomnia and the forgetfulness, maybe even try out some alternative healing therapies I’d tried years earlier when I’d gone through something similar. But he kept telling me he had everything under control. After assuring me that he was getting the help he needed, he asked me to talk about my latest project, my most recent security assignments.

  When Alma got home from work that afternoon, I knew I had to speak to her in private. I needed to know what was really going on for this time, there was something off with Drew. Most of all, I needed to know that she was safe. For the first time since I’d known Drew, I wasn’t sure if I could trust him, not when he was drinking as much as he was and talking about seeing our old buddies Smith and Jonas around town, even when they were both dead. I’d seen how PTSD worked—I went through it when I almost lost my leg—and I was afraid for her and the baby. I was there when she did the gender reveal party; they were having a boy and she was so happy. After three tries, she was so excited to get through the first trimester without any complications. She and Drew had wanted a baby so bad but this time, Drew didn’t seem to care.

  When I took Alma aside in the hallway, she didn’t have to say the words. I saw the fear in her eyes. I recognized it in the way her eyes filled with tears when I brought my hand to her face and it broke me to feel so helpless. That’s when Drew appeared at the end of the hallway and everything changed between the three of us and I had to step away—appalled, ashamed, guilty. Two months later, Drew would be dead and I’d show up at his funeral and never come back… until now.

  “I understand why you didn’t want to talk to me,” Alma is saying, her voice bringing me back to the present. “After what happened that day, it was probably for the best.”

  �
��That’s not true,” I mutter. “All I wanted was to make sure you were safe.” And I fucking failed doing that, too.

  Her eyes search my face. “Was that all?”

  The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by Tyler babbling and holding up his plastic giraffe to me, as if showing it off. Alma plants a kiss on his forehead and I see her lower lip tremble.

  “Forget it,” she says. “None of this will bring him back.”

  I clear my throat. “Look, Al, can we talk about this over coffee? We don’t have to talk about Drew, but just… just stuff. Maybe catch up.”

  Alma takes a deep breath and nods. “Sure. There’s a diner about three miles from here, just down the hill. They’re known for their pancakes. You can meet me there.”

  I know the place she’s talking about. I drove past it on the way to the cemetery. “That sounds great.”

  “I was about to text you anyway,” she adds. “Drew left you something.”

  “He did?”

  She nods. “I was going to mail it but I needed to make sure you still had the same PO box.”

  “It’s the same, yeah, but I’m here now. I can pick it up and save you the postage.”

  A gust of wind blows a lock of hair in front of her face and Alma tucks it behind her ear. “I didn’t want to cut your visit short. If you’d like to stay awhile, go ahead.”

  I pick up the beer cans from the ground. “Nah, I’m good.”

  “I’m not going to take long,” she says. “If you want, you can follow me there.”

  “Stay as long as you want. I’ve got to check my emails anyway.” I make my way down the hill toward my rental car, tossing the beer into the trash bins along the way. There’s a bench beneath the shade of a jacaranda tree but I walk past it, needing to be in the safety of my rental car to think.

  After relaying my condolences to Alma a year ago, I never thought I’d see her again. With Drew gone and what happened in that hallway two months before he killed himself, there was no reason to keep in touch with her. There’s also that unspoken code of not getting too close to your best friend’s widow. It’s just there. You just don’t do it.

  Still, that’s not what’s bothering me. I could care less about what other people thought. Right now, as I watch Alma kneel in front of Drew’s grave and touch his headstone, I feel like an interloper. I feel like I know too much but at the same time, I don’t know anything at all.

  Who am I to say that everything I thought I saw when I’d visited them thirteen months ago pointed to a scared and battered woman? So what if she answered my question about whether things were okay or not with a stammered yes or a furtive glance to make sure Drew wasn’t close by to hear her? What if it had all been my imagination?

  But what if it wasn’t? What if my gut instinct was right, that she was no longer safe around my best friend?

  Yeah, right, Villier. Not that you did anything about it. You ran, dude. You ran like a fucking coward.

  The knocking on the passenger window startles me from my thoughts and I see Alma waving at me from outside the car.

  “I’m ready,” she says cheerfully as I get out and follow her to her SUV a few feet away. I hold open the rear passenger door as she buckles Tyler into his car seat, her auburn hair glistening in the sun.

  “Look, Al. I’m really sorry about Drew,” I say as she hands Tyler a purple octopus before checking the buckle of his car seat.

  “You did what you could and I really appreciate that.”

  I could have done more, I almost counter but I keep my mouth shut. Like she said earlier, nothing I can do or say can change the reality that Drew Thomas is dead.

  “Are you ready for that cup of coffee you talked about?” she asks as I shut the passenger door.

  I nod, taking the hint. “Sure.”

  2

  Alma

  As Sawyer follows me in his rental car, I can’t help but feel guilty. What on earth am I doing agreeing to have coffee with him? He was my husband’s best friend, for crying out loud. He’s off-limits. He also made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with me when he hung up on me that day.

  And I can’t blame him. After what happened the day he stopped by the house, I should have just gotten back in my car and drove off the moment I recognized him standing at Drew’s grave. Instead I didn’t. I wanted to see him again. He’s a part of Drew’s past, before the demons found him.

  I find a parking spot in front of the diner and by the time I get out of the car, Sawyer is sprinting across the parking lot toward me. When I unhook Tyler’s baby carrier from the base, he offers to carry it and does it so effortlessly. Suddenly I find myself wondering how different things would have been if I’d ended up with Sawyer instead. I’d met them both on the same night I got stood up. They were both members of a sniper unit about to be deployed to Afghanistan enjoying their last few nights stateside. I remember seeing Sawyer first, watching me as he sipped his beer, pretending to appear disinterested. But as I was about to leave, it wasn’t Sawyer who came over to cheer me up, it was Drew. It had even been a running joke between the three of us, about how Sawyer would have been the one to snag me first if he weren’t so damn shy.

  But as quickly as the thought comes, I push it away, angry with myself for being disloyal to Drew. I loved him and we had so many wonderful years together. How was I to know things would end the way they did?

  As Sawyer settles in the seat across from me, I find myself smiling wistfully. If Drew were with us, we’d already be laughing over some joke he would have said. Or he’d probably be playing with my hair, staring at me until Sawyer would tell us to get a room. Drew’s absence is a deep ache I’ve learned to live with since I left him.

  As friends, Drew and Sawyer were like night and day. Drew was the all-American boy next door with his blond hair, sky-blue eyes and easy laugh. But while Drew was outgoing, popular, and always stood out wherever he went, Sawyer was the brooding introvert, the quiet Marine with thick dark hair and intense blue-grey eyes. Wide-muscled chest and slim hips, he had tattoos on his arms, one of them going all the way down the back of his right hand. Drew loved the ocean; Sawyer preferred the high desert.

  Remembering that Sawyer’s only here for a few hours before he returns home to New Mexico, I force myself to focus on the present company. Sawyer looks good, fit, and tanned, so different from the man who returned from Afghanistan with a torn-up leg. For awhile, there had been talk of amputation but in the end, the doctors were able to save his leg. From what I’ve seen today, he barely walks with a limp.

  “So how are things with you?” I ask as soon as the waitress leaves with our order.

  “Busy,” he replies. “Todd just completed the interiors on the earthship we finished before I left three weeks ago and it’s ready to go.”

  “To sell?”

  “No, this one we’re probably going to rent out, although, I prefer someone to rent it long-term instead of nightly. It’s perfect for a small family. Two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen and a dining room. Solar panels so there’s no need to be plugged into the grid.” He pauses, grinning. “You’d totally love it, Al. It comes with an indoor garden where you can grow anything you want—flowers, greens and vegetables like kale and artichoke, even fruit trees. You love to garden, don’t you?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I do. But what’s the point of knowing everything about gardening if I don’t know a thing about living in an earthship?” Although Drew and I were only renting the house in Torrance after he left the Marines, I loved the space in the backyard reserved for gardening. I planted salad greens and vegetables, using organic gardening techniques I’d read about online.

  “It’s not complicated. I can show you how one works in half an hour. It actually comes with instructions but maintenance of one is actually not time-consuming. A switch here, a switch there. That’s about it,” he says before his expression turns serious, his brow furrowing. “Anyway, let’s talk about you. How are you guys doing?”

/>   I shrug. “Tyler and I are okay. Could be better, but for now, we’re good.”

  “How are you holding up with Drew’s parents? I remember you guys didn’t get along too well.”

  “We still don’t,” I reply. “They mean well but they sometimes forget their boundaries. They make decisions for Ty without telling me and it drives me crazy. I mean, I get it, he’s their only link to Drew but still…” My voice fades and I shrug. “But then, what am I complaining about? It could be worse, right?”

  As Sawyer smiles thoughtfully, I can almost feel his next question coming and I brace myself. After all, isn’t that why we’re really here?

  “I know we didn’t get to talk much during Drew’s funeral,” he says after taking a sip of his coffee, “but I’d like to know what happened. When I came by last year, I knew something was wrong. I could see it with Drew but he kept insisting he was fine and when I’d push, he’d get angry. What happened when he got back from his last deployment?”

  I can feel Sawyer’s gaze and it feels like he’s seeing right through me even though I haven’t spoken a word. “He was different.”

  “How different?”

  I look away, my gaze on the glass of water in front of me. “He was angry all the time, and I couldn’t do anything right. The tiniest thing would set him off and I kinda had to tiptoe around him whenever he’d get into one of his moods.”

  “What kind of moods?”

  “When he’d just stare into space for hours. There but not there,” I reply slowly. “He started to forget things, the simplest things. He also started self-medicating.”

  “With what?”

  “Beer mostly,” I reply. “He said it helped him sleep better than any of the meds the VA gave him. He said it didn’t make him a zombie.”

  Sawyer blows air between his lips as he shakes his head. “You should have told me, Al.”