A Lover's Lament

I want to call her again. I need her soft voice to help ease this ache in the center of my chest, to help me forget where I’m headed. But I have to remain strong. These feelings can’t take away from me doing my job, getting back to my men and making sure they all get back home. But I can’t help but wonder how in the hell I’m going to do that when I’m leaving the best part of me back with Katie. How will I do it when a shell of a man returns to Baghdad?

Tilting my wrist, I look at my watch, which is much harder to read now than when I first walked into the bar. Twenty minutes until takeoff. Twenty minutes and I’m that much closer to a world completely opposite of this one. The harsh reality of it pulls the air from my lungs and sits heavy in my throat. I’m choking on the truth.

I order and down two more shots, pay my bill, and then make my way to the gate, my eyes counting the tiles on the floor as I go.

Fuck reality.

By the time I reached Germany, I had gotten drunk, sobered up and gotten drunk again, spendi

ng more money than I’d like to admit and sleeping uncomfortably close to my flight neighbors. I blabbered to them midflight about Katie, our ten years apart, and our four beautiful days together. Somewhere over the Atlantic, several of them bought me shots, which contributed greatly to my absurd level of intoxication. Some of the women listening in bawled their eyes out, and I think at one point I did too.

As I board the plane to Kuwait, I’m no longer drunk but now have a sharp, shooting pain piercing my temples, eyes, and the base of my skull. The throbbing nearly blinds me and makes the cabin lights seem like halogen lamps burning holes through my retinas. Several of the other uniformed personnel staggering onto the flight look the same way I do—the walking dead lurching their way back to hell.

I want to cry so badly, but I’ve been fighting back the tears as best I can. Because as much as I try and force my mind to make that transition back to soldier, I can’t fight the truth.

I need to be home, and Katie is my home.

As the lights in the cabin flicker off and the plane rumbles forward preparing for takeoff, I think to our last phone call just moments before boarding.

“Devin?”

I want to speak, but I don’t think I can. I’m moments away from heading back to a war zone, and all I want is to be back beside her—to continue the amazing journey we’ve restarted. The line sits silent, and each time I try and get a word out, the throbbing in the base of my neck takes over, the tears wanting so badly to pour from my eyes.

“Devin, baby, I know you’re there. Say something, please … did you make it to Germany?”

“Katie—” I croak, my voice cutting off involuntarily.

“Oh, Devin.” I can hear her voice quiver over the line and she sniffles. I feel tears roll down my cheek and quickly wipe them away as I conceal myself in the booth so no one can see. This terminal is full of other military members heading back to the same place I am, and I refuse to show weakness around them, even though weakness is the only thing I feel right now.

“Yeah, um …” I clear my throat. “I’m a few minutes from heading out.” Swallowing hard, I close my eyes and imagine Katie being right beside me, her arms around my lower back and mine over her shoulders. She comforts me with her words, rocking with me back and forth, back and forth. “Baby, I miss you so fucking much.” My voice cracks on the last word, and I drop my head between my shoulders.

“God, I miss you too, Devin. I miss you so much.” I can tell she’s crying harder now, and as much as I need her to stop, for the sake of my sanity, there’s something terrifically heart-warming about knowing she misses me just as much as I miss her.

“Katie, baby, I just want to say that no matter what happens during the rest of my time over there, my four days with you have been the best of my life. I wouldn’t change a second of our time together.”

I can hear her sobbing on the other end now. “Damn it, Dev,” Katie cries. “You can’t talk like that, you hear me? Ever!”

I suck in a deep breath, knowing full well that I may never make it back to her. The thought fucking kills me. I hate that I have to leave her again … that I’m making her go through this kind of hurt. “Baby, I’m sorry, I’m just—”

“No,” she says, cutting me off. Her words are much more composed than just a second ago. “I mean it, Devin. I’m hurting too much already, and I can’t handle that thought.”

“I’m sorry. I’m hurting too … so, so bad.” Just then, a voice comes over the intercom announcing the boarding of our plane, and my heart sinks.

“Katie—”

“I know, baby.”

“I love you so fucking much.” I wish there was another word for love, because this is so much more. What I feel for this girl can’t be put into words.

“I love you too, Dev, more than you’ll ever know. Call me as soon as you can, okay?”

“I will, sweet girl. Bye.”

“Bye, baby.”

The click and dial tone hit me like a punch to the gut. I want to lie here and lick my wounds, but there’s a job to be done. And even though I can’t fathom the thought of getting on this fucking plane, let alone leading men in battle, I’m going to do it.

The screech of the landing gear against the pavement jars me awake. I have to sit for a moment to process where I am. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I look around but can’t make out much of anything in the darkness of the cabin. I peek out the window and notice the tarmac lights dominating the night sky, a desert wasteland decorating its backdrop.