by Mia Ford
Maybe we aren’t meant to be after all. Perhaps we’re clinging to something that isn’t right. Just because we were right for one another once, it doesn’t mean we still are. That sucks and it hurts a lot, but if that’s the way things are going to go anyway then I need to get adjusted to the idea that my love story might be over.
I remember thinking that the ones who gave up on their relationships after college simply couldn’t love one another enough or they wouldn’t ever want to let go… but now I can see that maybe they just had the foresight to see that it wouldn’t work in the real world. Maybe that’s impossible. I just wish I’d seen it sooner.
***
“Huh, nugh?” I murmur as some weird sound blasts from my laptop, waking me up. I wipe the trail of drool from chin before pushing myself into a sitting position. I blink my eyes, trying to rid myself of thoughts of being in Jordan’s arms, while I slide back into reality. “Oh shit.” I suddenly realize it’s my video calling feature.
I open my laptop up and smooth down my hair as I recognize Oliver’s number. This is common, he’s constantly calling me up, but usually, I’m more prepared for it. I never look quite so much like shit. I guess it’s normal for me to take a nap, Oliver can’t exactly be pissed off with me, but I still feel guilty like I’ve been slacking.
“Oh, hi, Oliver.” His pixelated face bursts to life on my screen. I probably look the same to him. All fizzy and weird. Because of the distance and the crappy signal here, his lips don’t meet the sound and his movements leave a trail of pixels behind him for a little while. “How’s it going? Is everything alright in the office?”
“All good, yep. How’s it going, Ronnie? I’ve been trying to get hold of Christopher…”
It does wind me up a bit that he’ll always communicate with Christopher first, especially because I know that he’s a little bit of a sexist pig. But I’m far too tired to bother arguing that point right now, exhaustion still racks through my body. I’d much rather get to the point of this conversation and get rid of Oliver.
“He’s out filming at the moment. Erm.” I squint my eyes thoughtfully, trying to recall. “I think he wanted to redo some of his shots to get them perfect. You know what a perfectionist he is!”
“Yep, of course. That’s why I sent him out there because he’s the best of the best.” I decide to take that as a compliment. Oliver hasn’t exactly said that I’m the best too, but there has to be a reason he’s hired me. There were other options and he decided that I was the one for the job. That has to mean something. “But I wanted to talk to the both of you actually. Maybe even the whole team. Channel eleven has a piece with the Taliban and I want us to have something better. We need to get right in with the other side and get an interview.”
That statement causes coils of ice cold panic to snake through my system. That’s real dangerous stuff. What we’ve been doing so far is bad enough. It’s been hard to witness and there has been an element of dangerous… but the Taliban? That’s the terrorists who want to kill everyone who’s foreign. Is he serious?
“Oh.” I gulp down the golf ball of emotion that lodges in my throat. I want to express all of that sheer terror but I can’t. Oliver won’t take it, he just doesn’t accept weakness. He sent me out here to do things like this, so I have to just get on with it. It is what it is. “Right, I see. Well, I’ll try and see what we can sort out.”
“We need it sooner rather than later, Ronnie,” I warn him. “This needs to be done soon.”
Fuck… it really doesn’t feel like I’ll be able to escape this. I’m utterly terrified which makes no difference because I have to do it anyway. If this is what Oliver wants then so be it. “Right, yes, I see.”
Oliver must be able to sense my anticipation because he rolls his eyes dramatically. “Get Christopher to call me as soon as he gets back because I need to know that he’s on board with this too. This really needs to be done soon because this channel eleven thing is getting a fucking load of press and I don’t like hearing about it. We need to be bigger and better. You need to really get in there and do something to blow my mind.”
I nod slowly, hating the sound of this. I don’t want to admit it even to myself, but I have this horrible little snake inside reminding me that maybe Jordan was right. I’m too stubborn to truly accept it, but it is dangerous here and very hard too. I do wish I was back at home, but this is just the step I need to take to further my career. It’s unfortunately essential. Maybe once I’ve done this scary, horrible job, we can come back home.
All of us need that. We’ve paid our dues, it’s time for us to get back to America. I decide to talk to Christopher about that when he gets back before he speaks to Oliver. I’m sure that request will come better from him.
“Of course.” I plaster the biggest smile I can muster on my face. “I’ll get him to call you right away. I don’t think he’ll be too much longer so sit tight and I’ll get him on the phone as soon as possible.”
Oliver glances down at his watch… well, I presume that’s what he does, it lasts forever on the screen. “Don’t let him forget about the time difference, okay? And I’ll speak to the pair of you shortly.”
As I close my laptop back up I slide my eyes closed in dismay. This is a nightmare that keeps getting worse and worse.
18
Jordan
“The new recruits are doing good, Sir,” my second in command, Michael, commented to me while maintaining his professional stance the entire time. This guy never breaks rank even during break time. It’s admirable really, the people I’ve worked before have been keen to mostly be at ease. I guess that was a whole different scenario though so I can’t really compare the two. “The new regime is working out well, don’t you think?”
I stare out the window idly, watching the new eager men battling to be the best versions of themselves possible. They’re happy now, excited to see what the future holds for them. Sucked in by guys like Brandon, just as I was, they feel like their lives are just about to get started and I bet they can’t wait. I was the same when I stood there in the same position. I couldn’t wait to really get out into the world and truly make a difference. Now, I want to scream at them all to tell them that they shouldn’t want that for themselves because it’s hell. The ones who will head out onto the front line will end up dead, injured, or watching their friends die. It isn’t going to be this masculine, heroic thing they have in their mind, and I wish I could prepare them so they know better. Of course, I can’t because it’ll probably put them off completely, but still I don’t have to like it. It feels like fooling them.
“Good, thank you for that,” I say with a sharp nod to Michael. “Glad it’s all working out well.”
“And, erm…” He looks a little uncomfortable for a moment. “I have some information on the… you know, the other topic as well.” He practically whispers the words ‘other topic’ like they’re dirty words, which I suppose that they’ve become around here. Everyone knows I want to find out about Veronica, but that I find it hard.
“Yep, okay.” I notice my cheeks heating up with fear as well as embarrassment. It isn’t ideal to show any sort of weakness in the military, but when it comes to her she’s left with me no choice. “What do you have?”
Michael doesn’t say anything else, instead, he places a folder delicately on my desk as if it might explode like a bomb and he tiptoes out. I drum my fingers on the top of it, unable to risk opening it just yet. I’m scared what I might find inside. I’m always afraid. One of these days I’m utterly petrified that I’ll get the worst news. I’m sure I’d be able to tell by the way someone delivers me the dreaded folder, but there will always be a chance.
It’s okay, I try my hardest to convince myself. It’s going to be fine, just take a peek inside and see…
But I can’t do it immediately. My heart thunders against my rib cage leaving my brain spinning violently. I know that she made the choice to leave me despite my wishes, and I’m well aware that she hasn’
t even bothered to contact me once since, but I can’t help loving her. She will always be the one no matter what. Every single time I try to convince myself that maybe letting go is for the best, I remember all the good times we shared, all the promises that we made to one another and I just know that I’m not ready to say goodbye.
I just hope she feels the same way when… and if I suppose, she comes back to me.
Just do it, just open it already. Stop holding it like it’s a weapon of mass destruction. It’s just some papers.
It takes a while. Longer than I care to admit, but finally I pull the page open. As I see the first picture of her, interviewing one of the locals in Afghanistan, a tear comes to my eye. She’s not her, I can see that I’m losing her. She’s more this ‘Ronnie’ character than ever before. The woman who loves her career more than anything else. The woman who didn’t even want to hear what I had to say, who likes Christopher more than me, the woman who I barely even know anymore. This isn’t my Veronica, but I still love her. My heart still bleeds.
I stare at the image of her for a while just wishing that I could hold her. If I think about it for long enough I can almost feel her there, clinging to me and laughing at something I have to say. Just like she used to. I wish I could be there with her. Veronica is the only person I’d go back to Afghanistan for, but I just can’t. My command is here now, my career is here. I have no choice but to remain in this place as I’m told.
I run my finger down her cheek, trying to send the mental message that I love her. I want her to hear it, to feel it, to just know. I don’t know if we still have the bond anymore, but I can but try. Hope it isn’t severed forever. After which I begin searching through the text, trying to give me any indication as to how she’s doing, but it’s all very basic. It’s enough that I’ve used my connections to get this much, I cannot ask for more however much I want to. If I push my luck I might end up with nothing. Nothing but the news which I can hardly stand to watch.
Okay, well I suppose I’m going to have to be satisfied with the knowledge that Veronica is safe and alive. For now. But she’ll have to come back soon anyway, won’t she? Surely, they won’t leave her out there for much longer. Especially if things are about to get a whole lot worse, which from what I’ve heard, they are?
Come back to me, Rusty, I beg her silently. Let’s make this right again.
Of course, I regret the way we left things. I regret it every single day. While I can’t go back and change it, I can make it better when she returns. One thing I know for sure is that I’ll be so much better when she comes back. Somehow, I’ll find a way to prove to Veronica that I am worthwhile. I wouldn’t want that to be the lasting impression that she has of me. That’s why she absolutely cannot die. I can’t lose her anyway, but I really can’t know that she’s been killed hating my guts. I’ll never be the same man again.
***
I rewind the video to watch it again, for what feels like the hundredth time. Now that I’ve opened the box and I’ve stuck my head in, I need to see Veronica over and over again. I don’t recognize where she is, it isn’t a part of Afghanistan I ever went to, but I know it enough. It’s an impoverished village where the people are desperate and sick of war. They’ve been fighting for a lot longer than we were in the country, I know that much.
Yet, I’m jealous of them. In this clip, they’re close enough to the love of my life to touch her, and I am forever away. I still can’t quite work out how we got ourselves into this ridiculous situation. I shake my head and watch the report from start to finish once more. My heart bleeds, the sensation is agony, but I force myself to see her again. The knowledge that my cell phone sits silently in my pocket without even one text from her, is horrible.
Then again, I suppose I haven’t exactly reached out and contacted her either. I’m a stubborn fuck though, she knows that. But I guess that just means it’ll make much more of an impact if I do text.
I tug my phone out with a surge of determination, knowing that today will be the day I make it right. I’m going to write out a message right now, send it to her in a text and an email, then at least I’ll know that I’ve tried. There will be a million and one reasons why she might not get back in touch, mainly the signal or the responsibilities she has, but I will be assured that I did everything I could. I might be able to sleep a little easier…
Only, it isn’t as straight forward to write this message as I assumed it might be. There are so many things I want to say and lots that I don’t know how to. This message is heavy and important, I need to get it right. I absolutely have to ensure that no word is taken wrong to escalate this row further. It’s delicate. Somehow, my thick skull can’t seem to come up with anything decent. It’s a nightmare. It’s like there’s a big black hole in my brain where my thoughts should be which is incredibly frustrating. I want to shake myself, to smack myself on the side of the head, to do anything to make her know just how much I love her. If only I had done this sooner, the words I love you alone might have been enough. I’m such an idiot.
I make the choice to head up to bed, to put the news on the twenty-four-hour channel just in case anything comes up, and I’ll write from there. I don’t much like being in the bed, it’s very lonely, but I suppose I can’t complain too much about that. I left Veronica in a pit of loneliness too. This is her revenge.
I brace myself once I’ve climbed under the sheets and I bring the TV to life, I try to prepare myself for the worst, but thankfully there’s nothing even about Afghanistan playing. America is obsessed with itself once more and some politician that’s been involved in a scandalous relationship with a mistress. Nothing that affects me, so I tune it out, I focus on my phone screen, and I try to write. The words will come, they have to…
***
“Huh, what?” I jump up in a hurry as sunlight streams through the window. “What… where?”
Immediately, it becomes clear that falling asleep with the news playing in the background wasn’t the smartest idea that I’ve ever had. Nightmares filled my sleep so badly that I instantly switch it off so nothing else can infect my subconscious. That was really unpleasant and definitely not what I need right now. Blood, death, and gambling crimes which have ended up going incredibly wrong… yep, not helpful at all.
As I scramble out of the bed, my fingers land on my phone which reminds me that I haven’t yet sent off a message to Veronica. I had lots of false starts, but nothing felt right, and since it’s been a while there’s a lot of pressure to get it exactly right. I don’t even know where to begin. Hi, or hey doesn’t feel quite right. Nor does something much more formal. I’ll get there, it’ll come in the end, but I cannot rush it. I tried that and it didn’t work out for me. I’m utterly sick of making mistakes. Especially when it comes to my love life.
And right now, judging by the time I’m running late. I must have slept through my alarm which isn’t acceptable. I need to get to work right now. I might not be as useful as I once was when I was cannon fodder in Afghanistan, but I still have a role, there are still things I very much need to do. People need me. So, I chuck my phone back where it was, letting the pressure fall off me for a while, so I can get dressed. It’s just for a while, then it’ll be back again, stressing me out until I do it. My life is in limbo until I communicate with Veronica again. I won’t be happy, I can’t move on. I’m just stuck.
19
Veronica
This feels wrong, it’s all wrong, I know that I shouldn’t be here. Anxiety zig zags and darts through my body as I survey the scene in front of me. This isn’t like anything I’ve ever had to do before, nor is it something I expected to. I guess when I dreamed of becoming a journalist, I didn’t think about the negative jobs I would end up completing, I only considered the more exciting, glamorous ones. This right now, it’s hell. I can see why I shouldn’t be here. In among all these violent criminals, I hate every choice that I’ve made so far.
I dart my eyes towards Christopher to see that he’s paled to
o. He managed to negotiate with Oliver that we come back home once this job is done because we’ll all be worn out by then, and he’s done it so at least we have that to look forward to. The idea of home is really the only thing that’s gotten us this far, but even that doesn’t feel like enough right now. As I’m staring into what feels like the pit of death, nothing is worth this.
“So, erm, where do you w… want us to set up?” I stammer to the interpreter. He also has an odd expression on his face like he isn’t too keen on being here, but he turns to ask my question. I wait as patiently as I can manage for him to get back to me, but the entire time my brain is screaming at me to run. My survival instincts well and truly do not want me to be here. If only I thought I could run fast enough, I would be gone! Out of here.
“I think they would like you over here at this table.” He points and we move. “Yes, there.”
I don’t know what channel eleven came up with in the end, I didn’t ever brave watching it because I didn’t want to know what we were letting ourselves in for today, but it’s probably better than this. The best we could come up with is an ex Taliban member who’s escaped that lifestyle and now wants to share it. It isn’t diving into the belly of the beast and dealing with the real monsters, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s bad enough. This is still someone – or a few people, I’m not too sure on that part, there seems to be some miscommunication along the way – who has done terrible things. I understand this is news and what people want to know, it’s also what the Government wants them to know so everyone gets on the same page with regards to the war, but I’m still afraid.
