The Ohana Cottage

24

JOHN

Sitting on my couch, I bring the coffee mug to my mouth and sip on the black coffee. I crept out here to the living room early so I wouldn’t wake Mia. I felt her slip into bed last night, but I figured we both needed some space, so I didn’t say anything.

Ugh, last night. What a fucking disaster. My chest aches, and I feel sick to my stomach. I wish I was better at communicating. I just can’t seem to form the right words to explain how I’m feeling. I hadn’t meant for it to escalate as much as it did; I was just caught off guard and maybe a little scared. Did she talk to him often? Was Sean calling her a regular thing? I already have plenty of insecurities about being good enough for Mia—there’s no doubt in my mind that she deserves someone who can give her all of himself—so I guess I kind of shut down when I saw his name.

The sound of light footsteps brings me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see Mia, in her black polka-dotted pajama shirt and shorts, leaning against the door frame. I take her in to see if I can gauge what kind of mood she’s in or what she’s thinking, but her face gives nothing away. She walks over slowly and sits on the coffee table, facing me, her knees in between mine.

“We need to talk about this,” she says firmly. I nod slowly, not sure that I’m ready to hear what she has to say or that I’ll even be able to put words together to tell her what I was thinking.

“I’ll start,” Mia says, bringing her eyes to meet mine and locking them in place. “This isn’t fair to me, John, and you know it. This isn’t about Sean—forget about him. We could have had a calm, adult conversation last night, and instead, you completely blew it out of proportion. You shut down and shut me out, just like you do all the time, and that’s a huge problem.” She continues in a calm, even way that makes me wonder if she’s rehearsed this. “How am I supposed to completely uproot my entire life for someone who won’t let me in? Explain that, will you? Because I can’t make it make sense.” Her words hit me like a punch to the stomach, confirming my insecurities.

You’re right. It isn’t fair.

“Are we really supposed to just live a life where we sweep everything under the rug and not address it? When you shut down, am I supposed to just ride it out and wait for you to come back to me? Is that really how you expect this to go? I don’t want to have to walk on eggshells all the time, never knowing how you’re going to react or what you’re thinking.”

You’re right. You deserve so much better.

My eyes focus on hers, but I can’t think of the right words to say. My mind is whirling like a hurricane. Would she be better off without me? Absolutely. I can’t give her everything she needs, and that shatters me in every possible way. Her eyebrows rise up, and she stares back at me, expectantly.

“Are you really not gonna say anything?” She gently pushes my shoulders back and sits on my lap, straddling me on the couch. Both of her hands come to the sides of my face, and she tilts my head up to meet hers. I bring my hands to rest on her hips, frantically clinging to this small connection that seems to be all I can give her.

“John... let me in,” she begs, the pain in her voice obvious, and desperation in her eyes. “Please… let me in.”

I feel like a concrete statue, frozen, unable to say anything.

She puts her forehead on mine and shakes her head. “John… I love you.”

My eyes fly up to meet hers, startled by her admission. “I love you, John,” she repeats. “Do you love me?” I see tears forming in her eyes, and I can’t help the ones that start forming in mine.

Do I love you? Yes. Am I good enough for you? Absolutely not.

My silence is enough for her to bring her face away from mine and sit back on my legs, putting more space between us. Tears are now free-flowing down her cheeks, and that only adds to the heartache and tightness in my chest. She pushes her lips together and nods slowly.

“Okay... do you even like me, John? Or do you just want me around ‘cause I make you feel less shitty?” I wince at her words. She backs off my lap, and it takes a massive amount of restraint not to reach out and grab her. But I know what’s best for her… and it’s not me.

“I can’t do this anymore, John,” she whispers, her voice breaking, and she walks to the sliding door.

Wait… I’m sorry… I do love you… please don’t go.

The door clicks shut, and I officially break down. Uncontrollable sobs break from my chest, and I cover my face with my hands. I’ve spent the last several months suppressing every terrible feeling I have, but now I can’t seem to lock it down. Despair, anguish, and regret sweep through me, over and over again, and I feel absolutely broken. I lean over on the couch to lay down, and I just let myself feel. Feel it all. Let it fully break me, so maybe I’ll have a fighting chance at putting it all back together the right way.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but eventually, I peel myself off the couch and go to my room and turn the light off. I don’t want to leave the house, I don’t want to go outside, I don’t even want to see the sun through the window. I want to stay in this dark room with my dark emotions until I figure out what the hell I need to do to put my life back together. I’m tired of living like this and pushing everyone I love away.

Eventually, I fall asleep, utterly exhausted from my emotional breakdown. When I wake up, I glance at my clock and realize I slept for most of the day. It’s already 7:30 p.m. I grab my phone, hoping to find a missed call or message from Mia. All I see is a missed call from Quinn. I climb out of bed and make my way to the kitchen for something to drink. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I look out the window to the cottage. It’s dark outside now, but the lights inside the cottage are on.

Mia’s in there.

A part of me is longing to go over there and see her, but a bigger part of me—the broken part—knows that she was right. It’s not fair of me to ask her to commit to me when I’m unable to fully commit to her. I turn the kitchen light back off, and walk back down the dark hallway to my dark room. I climb under the covers and fall back to sleep, this time into a familiar dream.

Iraq

“I’m sorry,” Sergeant Cooper says, placing a hand on my back. “This is an unimaginable loss for all of us. Take some time and regroup. I need to make some phone calls so we can notify next of kin.” He leaves me on my cot, tears streaming down my face, trying to absorb everything that just happened.

Next of kin. Fuck.

Connor has a fiancée back home in Connecticut, as well as his parents and other family members. The wedding date is set for next summer. I had already booked a flight so I could go. Luis has a wife, a three-year-old, and a baby on the way back in Virginia. It absolutely crushes me that they’ll be getting that knock on the door with the uniformed men who bring unbearable news.

I blow out a breath, thinking of my other two brothers who lost their lives today. Their families will be completely devastated as well. It’s just not fair; why them? Obviously, when you join the military, and especially when you’re deployed, your own death, as well as the death of your brothers, is always a possibility, but that doesn’t make it any less devastating.

Four soldiers dead. And why? I mean, yes, we were under enemy fire, so any one of us could have been taken out—luckily, Langston wasn’t seriously injured when he was shot—but to lose four men from a mistake made by our own people? Absolutely crushing. What the hell was Adam thinking?

As if summoned by my own thoughts, Adam slowly stumbles in the tent. He looks dazed, utterly confused, and heartbroken. As he should. He walks to the cot next to me, sits down, and turns his head to face me. That’s when I see the true anguish on his face.

“John…”

I cut him off. “Don’t,” I sigh. “Listen… I know it was a mistake. I’m just not ready to talk about this yet, okay?” Before he can say another word, I get up and walk out of the tent to find Sergeant Cooper. My tour is set to come to an end in two weeks, and I need to tell him I will not be extending this time. I’m done.

I awake with a start, breathing heavily and sweating. I bring my hands to my face, which feels wet. I must have been crying. Usually, my night terrors give me more of a physical response, with my heart racing, shaky hands, etc. But this time, it seemed to be more of an emotional release. My pillow is soaking wet from my tears. I’m guessing it was probably tied to the emotions from yesterday with Mia. I take a few deep breaths and shake my head. Every inch of my body feels completely exhausted and sore. I walk out to the kitchen to see that it’s 8:30 a.m. and another bright and sunny day. I glance over at the cottage and stop in my tracks when I see Mia coming down the stairs, carrying her luggage.

My heart breaks again into a million pieces when the realization hits me that she must be leaving. Going home. To Minnesota. An Uber pulls into the driveway and stops by the cottage.

Do I go out there? Do I say something? What would I say?

No. I’m not any more of a whole man than I was yesterday, maybe even less so now. She doesn’t need me to confuse her or add to her heartbreak. I’ve caused enough pain. So instead, I watch as she throws her suitcases into the trunk and climbs into the passenger seat. Then the car backs up and slowly drives away with the most significant person in my life… who never once looks back.