Best Friend's Ex Box Set

“Why would you?” he asked defensively. “I’m your employee, not your friend. You know nothing about me.”

“Now that’s not fair!” I cried. “I think we’ve crossed over the employee/employer boundary and are something a bit more than that, don’t you think?”

“Whatever,” he grumbled as he resumed his pacing.

“And if I know nothing about you, then that’s your fault,” I asserted.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked incredulously. “You don’t ask me any questions about myself!”

“Well, that’s because you’re not particularly inviting, now are you?” I said flippantly. “Not exactly the warm and fuzzy guy who invites people to get all cozy and engage in chit chat, are you?”

“I have my reasons,” he grumbled.

“I’m sure you do,” I replied. “But it still doesn’t make you easy to get to know, now does it? And if I don’t know you because you choose not to let me in, then it’s really not my fault, now is it?”

He shrugged and walked toward the window. He pushed back the curtains and stood staring out the window for a long time. I said nothing, partly because I had no idea what to say, but also because I figured that if we were going to change the course of this relationship, right now was as good a time as any to begin.

PROTECTOR #3

“So, what made you stop drinking?” I asked.

“Long story,” he mumbled.

“Well, it seems I’ve got nothing but time,” I replied in a slightly sassy tone. Brian smiled a little and then shrugged. “Seriously, I’ve told you all kinds of messed up stuff about me, now it’s your turn. I’m sincerely asking to know more about you.”

“You really want to know?” he asked.

“Yes, I really do want to know,” I replied, smiling.

“It wasn’t hard to decide that I wanted to quit drinking,” he began. “It’s just that it took a lot longer to get to the point where I could stop.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because by then it was both a part of who I was and a way of dealing with all of the horrible stuff I’d seen,” he admitted. “Drinking is a part of Navy culture. It’s what you do to bond with other sailors, it’s how you spend your down time, and it’s what we did in the war zone to help us forget what we’d seen and, sometimes, what we’d done.”

“So, when did you start drinking?” I asked as I sat up, pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin on one as I watched him talk.

“Oh, I started that when I was young,” he waved a hand dismissively as he chuckled. “My whole family was a bunch of drinkers who were into working hard and playing harder. The Navy was a tame version of what I’d grown up with, so I fit right in. And I could usually outdrink everyone. The problem was that in my family there was a strict line between work and play, and you knew when to stop playing and start working. In the Navy, that line got blurred after boot camp, and I watched a lot of really good sailors get sucked under when they couldn’t figure out where to draw it.”

“What do you mean? I thought you guys were under strict orders and that you couldn’t get away with stuff or you’d be kicked out.” I was confused, but intrigued at this inside look into his life.

“It’s not like the movies, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said with a wry look. “We don’t have drill sergeants barking at us 24/7, and while we’re expected to keep things in tip-top shape, there’s a whole lot of leeway once you’re out of basic training. It’s like with anything, really. The rules start out super strict and then kind of lose their grip the more you know how to circumvent them.”

“Oh, I get it,” I said. “It’s like boarding school. They crack down on the first years and then ease up when they know you know the rules, and you figure out how to work around them without totally flaunting that you’re breaking them.”

“Yeah, kind of like that,” he said with an eye roll. “The Navy is totally like a rich boarding school.”

“You know what I mean!” I laughed as I tossed a pillow at his head and narrowly missed.

“That aim might be good enough for boarding school, but you’d never make it in the Navy,” he laughed as he picked up the pillow and tossed it back at me, hitting me squarely in the face.

“Well, I’m not a trained assassin!” I laughed harder. Brian stopped laughing and looked away. I waited for a moment and then offered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know,” he said. “Just hit a little too close to home.”

“So, you were telling me about how you stopped drinking,” I reminded him.

“A lot of the story is about how I started,” he said as he picked at the hem of my bedspread. “It became a habit while I was over here in the States, and then once we were deployed to Iraq, it became a necessity. It’s boring over there, a lot of sand and heat and not a lot to do when you’re not out on a mission. So, we lifted weights, played video games, and drank.”