The Ohana Cottage

26

JOHN

I’ve been staring at my phone for the last hour, trying to muster up enough courage to call. When Mia first left four weeks ago, I was absolutely devastated. I spent a full week in my bed. I was consumed with grief and let myself drown in it. I felt it all, slipping into a deep depression. I didn’t really care anymore. I didn’t have Mia to get out of bed for.

After that first week, I eventually peeled myself out of bed, forcing myself to shower and eat something. Since then, I’ve been slowly making my way back outside into the world. Cleaning the pool was at the top of my list. The following days I went to check on Rose, did some yard work, and even went to the beach a couple times. I didn’t have enough energy to swim or surf, so I just sat there on the sand, looking out at the horizon, missing Mia.

I had to muster up enough courage to go clean the cottage. That was difficult, to say the least. Every inch of space in that cottage holds a memory of Mia that only served as a reminder that I lost her. She was gone. I miss her so much it’s overwhelming, a constant ache in my chest that just got piled on top of the usual pain I live with every day.

A family from Texas came to stay at the cottage—a young couple with a small child. I could hear their laughter and chatter as they walked back and forth to the beach every single day. They were on cloud nine, enjoying their vacation in paradise as a family. It was such a stark contrast to the darkness I was living in right next door. I stayed inside my house the entire time they were here, successfully avoiding any in-person contact. They only reminded me that Mia wasn’t here anymore. Once they left a few days ago, I kept myself busy by deep cleaning the cottage and doing some repairs. The family had mentioned on their check-out sheet that the shower head was leaking in the bathroom, so I fixed that, and I washed all the linens and towels to prepare for the next set of guests coming next week.

Since then I’ve had a lot of time to sit in my thoughts. I know that my brain is fucked up, and it has been for a long time. I know that I’m not even close to being happy. The closest I’ve come to normal was with Mia, but even though she made things less heavy for me, there was still an underlying darkness that followed me around.

I know that my brain has no idea how to process the trauma of what happened on that mountainside in Iraq. I know that I am not thriving on my own, and that I need to work through my issues or they will literally consume me for the rest of my life. I’m determined to become a better, more whole version of myself. Enough is enough. Losing Mia has forced me to be honest with myself, and confront the issues I was trying to bury. I don’t want to feel like I’m drowning, or in an uphill battle the rest of my life. I’m not sure exactly how to do that, or what that will entail, but one thing I do know is that it starts with having a conversation with Adam.

So here I sit, still staring at my phone.

Okay. You can do this.

I blow out a deep breath, and scroll to find Adam’s name in my phone. Just as I work up the nerve to hit the call button, my phone buzzes with an incoming call. Quinn’s name lights up the screen. I let out a sigh. I guess if I’m trying to make an effort to let people in, not ignoring their phone calls would be a good place to start.

“Hi, Quinn.”

“Hey!” She says in surprise. “I wasn’t sure if you were gonna answer, it’s been like a month since I heard from you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

A moment passes in silence, and then she asks quietly, “Are you okay, John?”

This is your chance, John. Let someone in.

I let out a deep breath. “Honestly, Quinn, no… I’m not okay. But I’m gonna work on it. I want to get better.”

“What can I do to help?”

My stomach clenches with guilt. I don’t want her to worry about me. But then I remind myself that I need to stop viewing myself as a burden. It’s okay to let her worry about me, it means she cares. I have a feeling I’m gonna need as much support as I can get while I attempt to get through this.

“I’m not sure, but I’ll keep you posted.”

“Is Mia there with you?”

The mention of her name sends a fresh wave of pain through my chest. “No…she left a month ago.”

“Oh,” she says in surprise.

“I’ll be all right, though… you don’t have to worry about me, okay?”

“John, it’s my job as your sister to worry about you. You’re all I have left. It’s you and me against the world, remember?”

Her words make me feel like a real asshole for always shutting her out. Maybe she needs me more than she lets on. Who knows? Maybe we need each other.

“I know, and I’m right here. I actually have an important call to make, so I’m gonna go, but I promise I’ll keep in touch, okay?”

“Okay… and John? I love you. Please let me know how I can help.”

“I will. I love you, too, Quinn.”

I hang up and suck a deep breath into my lungs. That felt good. Not that a whole lot came out of my talk with Quinn, but it was honest, and I didn’t avoid her, which is a good start. Now that I have one honest conversation under my belt, I shift my focus back to the next one I need to have. I scroll back to Adam's number and hit the call button, trying to calm my nerves while the phone rings.

I hear a click, followed by a hesitant, “John?” His voice threatens to bring me right back to Iraq, but I do my best to push it out of my head.

“Hey, man,” I say quietly, words suddenly stuck in my throat. I didn’t plan out what I was going to say; I only knew that I needed to talk to him.

“How you been?” Adam asks, wariness obvious in his voice.

“Been better, I guess. You?”

“Same.”

We let the silence fill the air for a few seconds, neither of us knowing what to say. Adam breaks the silence first.

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for months, man. Listen, I know you probably hate me. I just… I just need you to know that I didn’t mean it, John. It was a mistake, I didn’t mean to fuck up on the coordinates. I just—”

“I know.”

“It was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, the worst thing I’ll ever do in my entire life. I feel so guilty, it fucking eats me up inside. I took their lives and ruined their families’ lives…” His voice breaks.

“Adam…” I sigh. “I know. I mean, it was absolutely horrific, there’s no sugar-coating it… but I know you didn’t do it on purpose… and I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” There’s a sliver of hope in his voice.

“No. I mean, I’m obviously not handling everything well myself. I’ve got my own issues to work through, but I know that no good is gonna come from hating you.” It’s quiet for a few seconds, and I start to wonder if he’s still there, when he finally speaks.

“Well... thank you… it helps a little knowing you don’t hate me,” he says quietly. I nod, even though he can’t see me.

“Have you talked to any of the other guys?” I ask.

“A couple... I’ve tried to get in touch with everybody in our platoon, but I guess not everybody’s ready to talk to me yet. Which I totally get. I spent the first few months after getting home in a really dark place, man. I couldn’t stop drinking, trying to forget everything… I was a fucking mess. Langston got me in touch with a therapist, though. She’s been helping a lot. She specializes in helping veterans returning home, especially ones with PTSD.”

“That’s great.” I’m happy that he’s figuring out a way to get help. “I really hope you work through your shit, man. You deserve to be happy.”

“You do, too, man. Listen, I hate to do this, but I gotta run… I really appreciate you calling me, John, I really do.” I can almost feel the gratitude coming from his voice, the sense of relief.

“Maybe I’ll call again soon… good luck with everything.”

“I’d really like that. You too.”

I hang up the phone, spending a few minutes staring at my phone. It was easier to talk to him than I thought it would be. Once I pushed through the initial wall of nerves, it really wasn’t so bad. I’m proud of myself for making that step that seemed damn near impossible just a short time ago. This is a good start.

I open the sliding door and go sit by the pool. I let my legs hang in the water and feel the sun on my back. I start making a mental list of all the things I can do that might help pull myself out of this hole I’m in. I need to get a handle on my emotions, and then hopefully, I’ll be able to function like a somewhat normal human being. I think of everything here in Hawaii that makes me even slightly happy and resolve to do more of those things if I can.

I’d also need to check in with Matt and Brian and let them know I’m going through a rough time, which is absolutely terrifying. Guys don’t like to admit they need help, especially emotional support, but I’m desperate. I think of a few more things, but the very first and most important thing on that list is texting Adam to send me the name of his therapist.