A Lover's Lament

“The Fear In Love” – Don’t Look Down

FUCK THESE MORNINGS. THE ONES where I wake up after a restless night of sleep about ten minutes before mission. The ones that limit personal hygiene and add unnecessary stress to an already long day. The ones were I barely have time to take a piss, let alone check my fucking email in the Comm Center.

I rush to get into uniform, brush my teeth quickly, and meet my guys near the trucks. They laugh their asses off as I approach, my uniform half on and sweat already running down my cheeks. I pierce a hole through them with my eyes as I finish strapping on my gear and tightening my helmet.

“You motherfuckers can’t wake a guy up?” I yell, slamming a fist into the hood of the Humvee. I make my way to the passenger seat and look over at headquarters just before climbing in. It’s like I have X-ray vision. I see straight through the walls into the communications center and to the computer that sits there, taunting me with an unread email from Katie. I huff and sink my ass into the seat, slipping my headset on and slamming the door shut.

“Hey, what can I say, Sarge? You had one thumb in your mouth and the other one up your ass. It was just too cute to fuck with.” Navas cackles and nudges my elbow with his boot. “I swear we were coming to get you in five minutes.”

“Five more minutes and I would’ve had to go out on mission without pants.” The Humvee pulls out of the spot and toward the gates as the other two vehicles follow behind. “Thomas, you’re the driver. It’s your job to wake up the boss.”

Thomas waves to the two men guarding the front gate as we pass through it before glancing over at me with a smile. He’s looking a lot better since our talk.

“It wasn’t my fault, Sarge. Navas said to leave you there. That you needed your beauty sleep.” He laughs and steers the Humvee onto the main road. While I’m okay with the extra sleep, I was hoping to at least be up in time to check my email before heading out on mission. Now, that’s all I’m going to be able to think about right now. Fuck, that’s all I’m going to be able to think about all day, for that matter. It’s going to make for a long twelve hours.

The air conditioning pumps out lukewarm air, which does little to alleviate this early afternoon sun. The heavy armor on the Humvees and the heat of the engine make the vehicle like an oven during this time of day. I try my best to stay comfortable, setting each hand against the A/C vents, soaking up every bit I can get. Thomas is passed out—as usual—resting his helmeted head against the steering wheel. I wonder how he can even manage sleeping with how steamy it is right now. Then again, even though there are times I can’t sleep if my life depends on it, there are other times I can pass out in five seconds using my helmet as a pillow. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, really; it’s just the way of a soldier. You learn to adapt … eventually.

But this heat is a different story. I’ll never get used to this.

Navas is talking about some episode of The Office where Dwight sets the office on fire as a safety test for his co-workers, but I’m not really listening. He goes on these tangents about episodes of The Office as if they actually happened in his life—like he was telling me an old story of his or something. It’s funny as shit, but I could care less right now.

My head is stuck on Katie and how much clearer my mind has been since we’ve started talking again. I can’t shake the feeling that this is something that was supposed to happen … that our paths have crossed once again for a reason. But why now? Why when I’m deployed thousands of miles away without the option of seeing her—or the assurance that I ever will again? For all I know, I’ll be one of a hundred flag-draped coffins lining the back of a C-130.

That terrible thought is broken up by a loud “hey” that roars into the headset. It’s so loud it jolts Thomas from his sleep for a moment before he nuzzles back into the door panel.

“Are you listening to me, asshole?” Navas grunts.

“Yeah, yeah, man, The Office and Dwight, and all that.”

“You’re a dick! You’re supposed to be my best friend, man. That means entertaining me on boring-ass missions,” Navas says, his voice purposely whiny, which makes me laugh because it seems so unnatural coming from a man his size.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that turret strap has cut off the circulation to your balls. You might want to think about standing for a while, bro. Maybe getting some blood back into those little guys.” I laugh, and so does he, but he stifles it quickly.

“Don’t make me pull these bad boys out.” He tilts toward me and spreads his legs, gripping his crotch in his hand. “I wouldn’t want to give you a complex.” I reach a hand out before he can move away and slap the back of my fingers against his balls—hard. His knees jerk together, and he nearly falls out of the turret strap on top of our interpreter. Mike, being all of a hundred and twenty pounds, cowers against the side of the door, but Navas catches himself and then clutches his balls, howling in pain.

“You… are such… a fuck,” he pants in between gasps.

“Well, don’t put that shit in my face. I don’t want to catch anything.” I laugh loudly as he fidgets in the turret.

“Just wait, you fuck, I’m not playing around. I’m getting you back tenfold.”

“Don’t make me pull rank, specialist,” I joke, tilting my head back and shooting him a smile up the turret. “You owe me some fucking push-ups when we get back, bitch!”

He smiles back, shooting me a middle finger salute. “Yeah, good luck enforcing that while you’re sittin’ in the Comm Center!”

I relax into my seat and check my watch. Of all our missions, this has been by far the most boring, but I’m careful not to mention it … or even think about it. Not anymore. Not after the girl.

“Since you don’t wanna listen to me, fucker, you get to talk,” Navas says. “So what’s up with Katie?” As soon as he asks it, her face teases my thoughts. I don’t want to talk to him about this. Hell, I don’t even know what’s going on myself. I take a moment to respond, but I guess it’s too long for Navas’s liking. “Hello … you either listen or talk, one or the other, but we aren’t just going to sit here in silence. I won’t allow it.”

“Okay, then you talk,” I say.

“No, no, no,” Navas says, “you lost that privilege. Now you get to tell me what’s going on with Miss Katie Devora. Or is it Mrs. Katie Devora?” He smirks at me, but just the thought of her being married to Wyatt makes me shudder. There would at least be wedding pictures up already, right?

“Come on, man. Nothing’s going on. What could even happen anyway? I’m a million miles away and a decade too late.” I think back to her engagement photo with Wyatt, and I feel my fingernails dig into my palms. Yup, I totally stalked her MySpace page and there he was, front and center. I always hated that kid, but knowing he’s going to fucking marry my Katie makes me want to go crazy.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. I know you, man. You haven’t used the Comm Center this entire deployment, and all of a sudden you’re there, what, three times a day over the past week? That’s sayin’ something.” He stops, but before I can get a word in edgewise, he continues. “I’ve noticed a change in you, I’m not gonna lie. You’

re not so fucking mopey these days. I know I can be depressing sometimes, but you were starting to get like Sophie’s Choice level of depressing on me. I can’t be havin’ any of that.”