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“Come on, Timmy, let’s keep ourselves busy. We always have guns to clean or something. There’s no point in us sitting around moping. It won’t change anything now, will it?”
“Yeah, okay,” he says.
But my happiness is false and we both know it. It’s better to just do as I’ve said and get on with it for a while. This place is hell, it’s dreadful, there aren’t many ways to keep ourselves going, but we have to. Just for a little while longer.
***
Relief floods me as I step off the plane onto American soil. It’s the first time I’ve felt safe in months, it’s wonderful to be back. The other guys all have their partners meeting them at the airport, but I didn’t tell Veronica I was coming back. I know she’s busy with her own career so I don’t want to drag her away from that, and I also want it to be a surprise. In all honesty, I also needed this time myself. I need a moment to adjust. The plane ride over should have been enough, but I need to gather up my thoughts in the fresh air.
To the side of me, I see Tommy collapse into a woman who I assume is his mother, and he sobs desperately. He recently got news that his friend was killed and he hasn’t yet recovered from it. None of us are used to death yet. I suppose we will have to get to a place where we are eventually, but it’ll take a long time. I can’t look at him, I can’t witness his sadness. I don’t want to be selfish but I’ve spent enough time sad. I need to separate this time and make it happy. It’s hard for me to do so, but I put my head down and walk off.
Leaving the airport is a freeing sensation, I like the way the breeze washes over my skin. It’s warm, but not the stifling heat of the middle east. This is pleasant, so much so that as I spot a line of cabs sitting outside the airport, I stroll right past them. It might be a mile into town, but that’s nothing. I can do it. I walk that far all the time, that’s a part of basic training. I want to feel this air all over me for as long as I can. It’s lovely.
As I walk, images from Afghanistan occasionally pop into my brain. In a weird way, it’s almost like I’m still there. Mentally, at least. I’ve been looking forward to letting go and having space from the war, but it’s still there. the noises, the smells, the stress… I don’t know how long it’ll take for that to subside.
I guess I’m lucky. I might have seen some horrible things, but none of my friends being killed. I feared witnessing good people dying in the most horrific ways, so I’m lucky so far. I know the effect seeing bombs going off can have on people. Those are sights I’m sure people won’t ever truly forget.
Stop thinking about it now, I tell myself firmly, think about Veronica and how nice it’ll be to see her.
I know bits and pieces about what’s happened with her. I know she’s a reporter now, interview people and running stories from location. I wonder how she’s getting on with that. I’m sure she’s doing really well. That’s what she was born to do. God, I’m so excited to be in her arms, to hold her, to listen to her talk.
I pick up the pace, imagining the smell of Veronica rather than the desert. I love the way there’s always a scent of citrus in her hair. Lemon maybe, or perhaps it’s lime. Whatever it is, it goes well with the strawberry fruity scent that covers her body. I inhale deeply, my heart racing as I know it won’t be long.
I should have jumped in a cab after all… or maybe I should get a bus. Anyway, to be back with Veronica right now. I shouldn’t have yearned for some time, I should just be with her already.
Since none of those options are available to me, all I can do is run. I jog at first, the weight of my bag on my back only causing a little bit of drag, then I break into a run as if I’m in a race. I run until I’m near enough to the town to find a bus stop and I jump onto it, grateful that it takes me near to my home. The house that I’ve barely spent any time in really. I was barely even around when we bought it, which is a real shame. I’ve missed out on so much. I don’t want to miss out on anymore. I want to be there, with Veronica, for everything.
I spot an advertising banner running along the inside of the bus once inside, advertising the news station which Veronica works for. It has pictures of the two main anchors and mentions the other reporters by name. I hunt it, immediately looking for the woman I love mentioned there, but I don’t immediately see her. It takes me a moment to realize that ‘Ronnie Best’ is her. Ronnie… that’s weird. I suppose it is a shorthand for Veronica, but I’ve never known her be called that. Many, many other names but never that one. It’s weird, that’s almost like a version of her I don’t know. Just another thing that I’ve missed out on, I suppose. I should just add it to the ever-growing list.
I’ll have to ask her about it once I get home. I need to work out how she became ‘Ronnie’. That’s so odd.
Still, the rest of the world can know her as ‘Ronnie’ if they want to. She won’t ever be that to me. She’s Rusty or Veronica. The girl from high school who I fell deeply and madly in love with in college. The woman I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep but the one who I’ve managed to make a real life with.
She’s mine, and I’m hers. If real life hasn’t torn us apart yet, then I d
on’t think it ever will. One day, hopefully not too long away, I’ll walk her down the aisle and make her officially mine.
I hope that happens sooner rather than later. I do want her to have a ring on her finger, I want us both to know that wherever we are in the world, we’re still in love. No matter what.
13
Veronica
I rest my feet on the coffee table next to my giant glass of wine while I sort through the paper work in front of me. I’m tired, exhausted actually, it’s been a very long day and the last thing I want to do is more work. I would love nothing more than to have a nice bubble bath, read a long trashy novel, and relax. But this needs to be done today and I don’t think there’s anything in the world that can stop me. I’ve even turned my cell phone off to stop me from getting distracted by calls, texts, and the Internet. That’s a constant fault of mine.
I focus my eyes in on the words, drinking them in one by one, but somehow the meaning isn’t quite sinking in. I can see the words, I know what they mean, but my brain isn’t totally connecting them together. The part of my mind which is good at figuring things out has deserted me, rendering me useless.
I sigh deeply, just about ready to give up and go to bed, my thought process being that if I sleep earlier I can wake up earlier, then I can get this work done then, when there’s a strange ringing sound through the house. It kinda sounds like the door bell, but surely it can’t be at this time of night? It’s too late for visitors…
Oh. When I dart my eyes towards the clock I see it’s only half past seven in the evening. A perfectly reasonable time for someone to come around I suppose. It’s just that I’m not expecting anyone and I’m shattered.
The doorbell rings out again, so I leap up and race to the front door, anxiety twisting in my gut. I try to rack my brain to see if there’s some prior engagement I’ve forgotten all about, but of course, it isn’t on top form.
I grab the door knob and swing it open, not sure who I’m going to see on the other side…
“Jordan!” I gush out in shock. This is the last person I thought it’d be. “What are you… are you…?”
I don’t know what to say, I can barely breathe, never mind speak. The air has been zapped from my body, my lungs are squeezed tight. This must be a dream, I can’t believe it. I must have fallen asleep on the couch.
