Fighting Absolution

by Kate McCarthy

  I almost laugh. Does Monty not know his friend?

  “C’mon, Ollie.” Kyle tickles her little belly. “Let’s go show off your cute little tush while we paddle in the water.”

  He starts off with her in his arms and glances over his shoulder. “You coming?”

  I look to where Finlay sits, knowing I have to put on my big girl pants. “In a minute, okay?”

  Kyle nods while Wynn chases after him, red wine in one hand, hat in the other. She slaps it on Olivia’s head and starts back. “Would you like a glass?” she asks me.

  “Thanks. I brought some white though, so I might have some of that.”

  Wynn walks back over to Monty while I pour two wines and take them over to where Finlay is sitting. I take a huge gulp before seating myself cross-legged beside her. The wine does nothing to calm my nerves.

  “Hey,” I offer, the word sounding lame and croaky on my lips.

  “Hi.” Finlay smiles slowly, and I can only look at her bright green eyes—Jake’s eyes—for so long.

  I hold out the glass. “Would you like a wine?”

  “Thanks,” she says, taking it, cocking her head. “Do I know you?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “We’ve never met.” I hold out a hand. “I’m Jamie.”

  She takes it. “Fin,” she says in reply before letting go.

  There’s a moment of awkward silence between us, and we both look out over the beach, watching as Kyle reaches the shoreline and plonks himself down. He sits Olivia on his lap, and tiny little waves splash over them. She screams in delight, slapping her hands in the sand, trying to grab at the water before it recedes.

  “I saw you with Kyle when you arrived. You’re friends?” she asks, glancing at me before her gaze returns to the ocean.

  “We are. Old friends.”

  “Oh. That’s nice. Did you …” She starts and stops, taking a deep breath. “Did you know my brother, then? Jake?”

  “I did. We met … through the army.” I hesitate on the words. I can’t tell her I met Jake with the sole intention of losing my virginity, that our connection began as a one-night stand. It’s not that I see anything wrong with what we did, but I don’t want to overshare, or flat-out lie either. “Actually, we met the night before I shipped out for basic training and caught up again during deployment.”

  Finlay looks at me again. Really looks at me. “You’re Jamie Murphy.”

  My nerves startle in surprise. “You know me?”

  She nods, swallowing, hands wrapped around her wine glass like it’s a hot mug of tea. “My brother and I were close. We talked about everything. He mentioned you. More than once.”

  My heart begins to race. “What did he say?” I blurt out and immediately wish I could take the words back. It’s horrible timing to ask a question like that. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s just ... Jake meant a lot to me,” I explain, hearing the vulnerability and hesitation in my voice when I speak his name.

  “Please don’t apologise,” she says, her expression both kind and incredibly sad as she looks at me. “I get it. And it’s okay. I like talking about Jake, even though it’s hard. I’m scared that if I stop, then he’ll just fade away like he was never here.”

  Her eyes fill and my vision blurs. “Fin.” I grab blindly for her hand, taking and giving it a squeeze. She squeezes back, blinking as she regains her composure before letting go. “Jake didn’t give too much away, but it was more a case of the way he talked about you.” She sips her wine, her gaze moving back to the ocean again. “I remember this one Christmas when he was twelve. He’d been begging my parents for a surfboard for the entire year. It was a shortboard. I think he called it a Thruster. It was designed for quick turns and shredding,” she says as if I know what all that means. I don’t. Surfing is something I’ve never tried because sharks. “It cost about six hundred dollars, so it wasn’t cheap. They wouldn’t buy it for him. Jake went through hobbies like we go through underwear, you see, and it cost my parents shitloads of money. I don’t know if it was because he got bored or because he just had this huge love of living and wanted to try his hand at everything he could. It’s almost as if he knew.” Finlay mashes her lips together, throat working.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I do.” She takes another sip of her wine, and I do the same, finishing off the glass and setting it aside. “Anyway, he promised to take out the trash for the whole year. Empty the dishwasher. Mow the lawns. And he did. For the entire year. They bought him the board. You should have seen his face when he woke and found it wrapped and standing against the wall by the tree. He had that exact same face whenever he mentioned you.”

  I bring my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I want to bury my head in them and cry for the ache of what will never be, but I don’t. I hold on to my tears, my grip precarious.

  “Anyway, he took the board out in the ocean that very afternoon and accidently snapped it in half on the rocks,” she says, and both of us laugh a little through watery eyes.

  “Oh my god! What did your parents say?”

  “Jake shit himself. He didn’t tell them for a week. He had to fess up when we all came to the beach for a family picnic and they told him to bring his new board. Dad went all silent and scary, and Mum’s eye twitched for the entire afternoon and into the night. He not only had to keep mowing our lawns over that summer, he had to mow our elderly neighbours’ lawns too.”

  It’s a great story and hearing it somehow makes Jake more human than superhero. But it also makes the loss feel worse. I’ve been trying to pack him neatly away in a little box filed under ‘memories’ and ‘what could have been,’ and yet my heart still opens the lid, every single day, and the contents churn inside my gut.

  “Jake was an amazing person,” I tell her, wanting to offer something in return. “He kicked our asses at poker all the time. He was good like that. Good at everything, really. We played for jelly beans most of the time, but he shared them all with me. Sometimes I’d be going about my day and some would fall out of my pocket when I hadn’t even realised he slipped them in there.”

  It’s not a funny story, but it’s one that stuck with me because it made me feel special. Even a little giddy. I was falling for him so hard. How am I supposed to let that go?

  Kyle grabs Olivia’s arm and waves it at us from afar, beckoning. “Would you like to go for a swim?” I ask Fin.

  She wipes at her eyes. “You go. I’m going to go help the guys fire up the grill.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Fin nods. “I’m sure. It’ll be nice having something to do. I’ve been so caught up in my own head lately.”

  “I get it. I lost my dad when I was sixteen,” I share, and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s this sense of connection I’m feeling with her. “It’s hard watching life move on around you while you’re experiencing this horrible sense of loss, of knowing nothing will ever be the same. I know you worry about Jake fading with time, and maybe he will a little, like my father has, but he’ll never leave completely. He’ll be there in everything you do. I know, because I carry my dad with me everywhere I go, and now I carry Jake too.”

  “Thank you, Jamie. I needed to hear that.”

  “I think I needed to hear it too,” I say, loosening my arms from around my legs and stretching them out in front of me, feeling a little wrung dry. “Maybe we can talk a bit more later? After we eat?”

  “Sure. That would be great.”

  We both rise, wiping away the sand from our backsides. Fin squeezes my shoulder briefly before moving off to the grill while I peel off my shorts and tee shirt. I toss both on the grass and start towards the shoreline wearing a plain black string bikini. I’m not into bright colour or fuss, unlike Erin, who decided on a similar style of swimwear except hers are covered in white sequins that gleam with a purple lustre in the sun. I’m used to plain army green or camouflage, so wearing anything with colour feels like I’m drawing attention to myself, and that
’s the last thing I feel like doing in my present state of mind.

  Kyle watches me walk towards him, pumping little Olivia’s arms up and down in a cheer. “Yay, yay, yay,” he chants, being silly. “It’s Aunty Little Warrior.”

  I plop myself in the wet sand beside the two and find myself bopping the cute little lady on her tiny button nose. “You can call me Jamie.”

  “Ja!” she says.

  “Aunty Jamie,” Kyle tells her then points to his chest. “Uncle Kyle.”

  “No.” I shake my head and point to his chest, making sure I have Olivia’s attention. “That’s Uncle Bear. Bear,” I enunciate clearly.

  “Bah,” she says, and Kyle grins so she says it again, delight on her face. “Bah.”

  “Holy shit!” I squeal when a wave rushes up and over us, gurgling and splashing cold water over my legs, lap, and butt.

  Kyle covers Olivia’s ears, his eyes widening on me in censure. “Don’t swear in the front of the baby.”

  “Oops.”

  “Monty will kick my ass when we get back if she starts spouting swear words at everyone.”

  “Kyle! You just did it too.”

  He bites down on his lip, scrunching his nose. “I did. This parenting sh—stuff is hard.”

  “Well, it’s good you’re getting your practice in, I suppose, considering the poor woman you decide on marrying is going to end up ruining her vagina for the entire soccer team of kids you plan on having. And kids are expensive too, right? Not to mention all those push presents you’ll have to buy.”

  Kyle cocks a brow in question while Olivia beats at his thighs with her little fists. “Push presents?”

  “Yeah. Every time your better half pushes out a giant baby from her vag—and I say giant because I’m pretty sure you were born the size of a toddler—you have to give her diamonds.”

  “And what do I get?”

  “A screaming baby.”

  “Huh. That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Fair? Oh boy.” I grab a handful of sand and dump it onto his lap, right over his crotch.

  “Hey!” he says, doing his best to wash it away while holding a squirming little human.

  “Do me a favour and just buy her the damn diamonds, would you? I don’t need you crying all over me because she divorced your sorry ass.”

  He covers Olivia’s ears again, hissing, “Language.”

  We paddle in the shallows for a little while longer, until there’s no ignoring the scent of barbequed sausages in the air. My stomach growls louder than a lion, so I stand up and wade in further, dunking myself in deeper water to rinse the wet sand from my backside. When I stride back out, Kyle plonks Olivia in my arms and does the same.

  I tuck her into my side, but she starts to whine. I’m used to holding babies from my trips to East Timor and Afghanistan, but they were easy because I had a purpose. They needed health checks, not loving attention.

  I give her a little jiggle. “You hungry, little Ollie?”

  She looks at me, all big brown eyes and wispy hair, and doesn’t like what she sees. She doesn’t like being held by a stranger. Her little mouth opens and a cry of fear comes out. Suddenly it’s Arash all over again, and the terror on his sweet young face. The way he looked at me as if I could fix everything. His cries when I failed him.

  I begin to sweat—a cold sweat in the middle of a hot day—and my eyes dart to the water, desperate for Kyle. He’s walking back to us, hair plastered to his face and neck.

  Olivia seems to sense my panic and lets out a huge wail, whipping her head around as she looks for someone familiar. “Hey now,” I say with a slight tremor, giving her another jiggle. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

  Oh yes it is, her face says, her bottom lip wobbling and poking out.

  Kyle reaches us and I hand her over. “Here,” I growl, anger starting to replace the sudden rush of panic. He takes her, brows high as I stomp off, showing Olivia that I’m a baby just like she is—only I’m a bigger one.

  “Jamie! Wait.” He jogs a little in the thick, dry sand, Olivia bouncing in his arms as he catches up. “What the hell was that?”

  “I told you I never wanted kids,” I snap, arms swinging and legs burning as I power up the beach towards the grassy knoll. He keeps pace, damn him and his stupid muscled legs. It’s from stealing the stair climber in the gym on base all the time. Every morning I came in he was already on it, smirking like a giant poophead. “I’m not even cut out to hold a damn baby.”

  “Jamie, dammit, would you stop?”

  He places a hand on my shoulder, and I see we’re starting to draw attention.

  I stop. “What, Kyle?”

  He’s breathing heavy as he stares down at me. Olivia squirms and he shifts her to his other side, patting her little bottom to keep her settled. “Is this whole thing about Arash? I know you were close with him, and I know leaving him behind must weigh on your mind. How could it not? But we’re not raising kids in a warzone here. They get a better life.”

  My lips pinch tight. Fucking perceptive bastard. I start walking again, and Kyle follows alongside me. “Those kids are screwed from the moment they’re born. How can I have kids of my own, knowing there are babies over there that have no one?”

  “Jamie—”

  “It’s not right,” I sputter.

  “It’s not,” he agrees softly. “But we can’t adopt them all. We can’t even adopt one. Their laws won’t allow it. So is it such a bad thing to have your own? Raise them to be good people. Encourage them to do something meaningful with their lives the same way we’re trying to?” He rubs a loving hand down Olivia’s back. “You think Monty and Wynn plan on raising a monster here?”

  My eyes flick to the baby in his arms as we reach the fringes of our little group. She couldn’t look more like an angel if she tried, but she’s one of the lucky ones. There are so many out there who aren’t. I lift my chin. “The day I can adopt an Afghan child is the day I’ll have kids.”

  Kyle sighs, squinting at me with the sun bright in his eyes. “Stubborn little ass.”

  “No swearing in front of Ollie.”

  “Shit,” he mutters.

  Monty comes over and plucks his daughter free. She squeals and beats her fists against her daddy’s chest as he carries her away. “Stop corrupting my little princess with your wicked ways, Brooks. She’s too young for all your nonsense.”

  “All my nonsense?” Kyles call after him. “How old are you again? Eighty? C’mon, Jamie.” He takes my hand. “Let’s go eat.”

  23

  KYLE

  I’m pulling into the carport beneath my unit block when my phone begins to vibrate in my back pocket. I switch off the engine and tug my helmet free, digging for the device.

  It’s after midnight. I’ve been out playing pool with Ryan because the walls have been closing in like a bad Indiana Jones movie. It’s hitting home that Jake is never coming back. In fact, the longer he’s gone, the worse it seems to get. Not even my Matthew Reilly book has been keeping the ache at bay. It keeps rising up like indigestion, burning my throat.

  Frustrated earlier tonight, I threw my paperback at the wall, and Ryan opened the door, popping his head in.

  “You okay?”

  I was tired. I didn’t have it in me to brush him off. “No. I’m not fucking okay.” I tucked my hands behind my head and looked at him. “How’s that for a shitty wisecrack, huh?”

  “Christ.” Ryan stepped inside my room and took a seat at the edge of the bed, his body facing out towards my little balcony. “I was wrong to say that the way I did.” He rested his elbows on his knees and linked his hands together. “The truth is, I like your shitty wisecracks. And I get why you do it. We’re men. We’re not supposed to cry. We’re not supposed to show weakness.” He huffed out a breath. “Especially here. God knows, they do their best to train any kind of emotion out of us.” Ryan turned his head, looking at me. “So many of us come back from Afghanistan like blocks of ice. All the humour, the grief
, the joy—it all shuts down. And it’s not that we’re incapable of feeling anything. It’s the training. But you’ve managed to avoid all that, and I don’t know how.”

  “It’s just practice, Kendall. You keep cracking jokes long enough, it becomes second nature, just like the training.”

  “I’m not that fucking funny.”

  “That’s true. My kitchen counter has more humour than you.”

  Ryan chuckles and shakes his head. “C’mon. Too much deep conversation rots your brain.” He rises to his feet. “Let’s go play some pool.”

  The ringing of my phone brings me back to the present. I check the screen. It’s an unknown mobile number, but I answer it anyway, remaining seated on my bike. “Kyle Brooks.”

  “Brooks, it’s Wood.”

  “Hey, Wood. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Is Jamie with you? She’s been gone a little while, and she’s not answering her phone.”

  My brows pull together. “She’s not with me. Maybe she’s gone out with some friends?”

  “She doesn’t really have many of those.”

  That’s because she has more prickles than a cactus. “You have reason to be worried?”

  “She left in Erin’s car and the unopened bottle of vodka on the counter is missing too.”

  I stay seated on my bike, my helmet resting on the seat in front of me. “Wood, she’s not stupid enough to drink and drive.”

  He huffs out an audible breath. “I’m not so sure.”

  “Well something must have happened?”

  “She might have overhead me talking to Erin about something.”

  “About what?”

  “About not re-enlisting. I’m leaving the army, Brooks.”

  My nostrils flare. “And you let her overhear you talking about it? Fuck’s sake, Wood. She’s supposed to be your best friend,” I snap. “Shouldn’t she be the first one you talk to about this?”

  “After losing Jake?” he gripes back. “You really think that would have been a good idea?”

  “It would have been better than her hearing it secondhand. You’re a goddamn asshole.”