When I See You (40 page)

"You guys went way back. You were the reason he was here."

"He made his own choices. He always did," I mutter.

"You're the best there is as far as spotters go," Reed says, shaking his head. "But, man, your attitude really sucks."

"What do you want me to say?"

"There's a meeting at twenty-one hundred hours. You better be there. Stein's office," Reed says. Then, he just walks off.

Somewhat bewildered by his open hostility, I follow him. We don't exchange another word for the next four miles. Fine by me. Dead silence is just the way I like it.

Reed and I split up as soon as we reach camp. He makes a point of saying he needs to meet with Stein. I look at him quizzically and then shrug. I think my sinister outlook has gotten to him. He's the third partner I've had in as many months. Although I'm not exactly keen on training yet another partner, I'm pretty sure he's going to ask for a different one.

Christ.
I just want to get the hell out of here for a while. I want to drink until I'm completely shit-faced, can't even remember my name, and fuck someone. My intent in striving for the carefree days of over a year ago grow stronger the longer I'm away.

I push my way through to the equipment supply room and check in with the soldier managing the place. Then, I spend an interminable hour cleaning all my weaponry and finally head out. I plate up food from the mess hall that's left over from the dinner meal served two hours before. I nod at a few of the guys I know and let the door slam behind me when I move out. I don't want to talk about the next mission, the kill number, or the weather. My patience for this day and these people here has officially ended.

There's a full moon. I look up at the dark sky and glimpse a blanket of stars. I move in a haphazard stealth pattern between the makeshift barracks in an effort to avoid any errant enemy sniper fire just like we've been taught. And yet, as if magnetized, I stop and stare at the stars and allow myself a full five minutes to think of her.

Jordan.

She's somewhere out there in the world. She's all alone. This much I know. A part of me wants to find her, and another part, the dominant one, wants to forget I ever met her.

The pain rises up from deep inside. I meet it, head-on, while my mind prepares for the battle.

I close my eyes and embrace the blackness. I've been here before. These are the times when I miss it, because seeing it all has been so much worse.

The memories flash. Ashleigh's face, worried and anxious. "Where is she?" I'd asked.

Her first words when she finally confessed: "She's gone. She left." Ashleigh handed me Jordan's innocuous note. I still didn't get it. Not then. Tate and I made record time to the airport, but the flight bound for L.A. had already taken off.

"She said she just needed some time," Ashleigh said.

Ashleigh sounded so certain that I believed her. My second mistake.

So, we waited.

I gave Jordan six hours. Then, I called her cell phone and got her voice mail. Again and again.

No Jordan.
Anywhere.

Liz called Ashleigh the next day. She was in a panic, out of sorts. They'd dropped Jordan off at the house in Malibu the night before with her insisting she was okay. Jordan told Liz she just wanted to get some rest, but when Liz went to check on her that next morning she was already gone. The safe emptied. The bills paid up for six months. She'd left a formal letter of resignation for Louis and taken her dad's Porsche.

Jordan was gone. And, she didn't want to be found. We couldn't find her anywhere.
Gone.

We were unable to comprehend that she would walk out of our lives in the early morning hours of the fifth day in a life without Max and completely disappear.

≈ ≈

I can see. I can see it all. I can still see the exact moment when I lost them both. It was on the edge of Logan's Pond where I stood before her with Max's lifeless body.

She was broken into a million pieces already. I just didn't see it.

Guilt-stricken, uncertain, I returned to Afghanistan two weeks later per my service orders. Afghanistan. It's as if I've never left. Nothing has changed, but everything has changed. Me, most of all.

Who could have known that God would give me my sight back, only to take Max and my dad? And, that Jordan would just up and leave and disappear? The pain of losing all of them never leaves. This crushing sensation overtakes me. I first think of little Max. Five days from his fourth birthday, his life was taken away. I should have known what that was doing to Jordan. I should have seen that although she appeared to be fine; she was far from okay. I should have seen it.

Max. Jordan. My dad. I rub at my eyes and try to rub out the memory of all three of them. There are so many things I should have done, should have said, to my dad, but especially to Jordan. And, now I can't do or say any of them.
I just need to forget. Do my job. Serve my country and forget.

A handwritten letter sits atop my bunk. I hold my breath for a second and allow myself to believe it's from her. But my working sense of sight begins to infiltrate my brain. It's my mother's handwriting, not Jordan's. With shaking hands, I open the letter. These have been frequent and unhelpful.

Dear Brock,

I continue to watch the news for any word on what is happening there, but, it seems this has become the forgotten war. Just know that I think of you each and every day. And, I miss you so much. We all do.

I went by the cemetery today and planted flowers at all of their graves. I commissioned a headstone next to Ethan's for Max when I ordered your father's. I know he's not there, but I think it makes us all feel closer to have some place to go and think of him, too. Anyway, it's finished. A beautiful granite one with an etching of Winnie The Pooh near his name. I put a stuffed Winnie The Pooh right next to it. So sweet. Just like Max. I left him a plate of cookies. I'm sure it just encourages field mice, but I like to think of Max, just sitting there and gulping them down as fast as his little hands can reach his mouth.

I wish you could be here for Christmas. Tate and Ashleigh are still getting married in February. I wish they would wait, but Ashleigh insists on going ahead with her Valentine's Day wedding plans. She thinks Jordan will come, but no one has heard from her.

Please don't sign up for another tour. Please Brock. I realize I should have said this long ago. I need you, Brock. I need you here. You need to be here with your family. And, I believe in my heart that Jordan just needs some time to work it all out. She's part of this family, too. And, you need to tell her how you feel. Yes, there's so much to say and, if we get the chance, we must say it. I love you, Brock. Be safe and come home.

Mom

I sink back further against the pillows and let the letter fall to the floor. My mother's sadness reaches me. I know she misses my dad. I know I let her down by returning to Afghanistan, but I hope she understands my reasons for being here.

I sigh. It's too sad. I try not to think about my dad too much and all the mistakes I made with him, with Jordan, even little Max. If I'd been paying better attention, maybe none of this would have happened. I close my eyes and try to keep my mind from thinking of them, but the memories return anyway. All the people I love. I reach out with an unsteady hand in mid-air as if to touch them, but there's no one there.

I glance at the clock. I have twenty minutes before I have to be in Stein's office. These perfunctory debriefing meetings suck. My mind drifts, and I begin to wonder what Reed meant by his do-you-know-who-I-am comment. In one swift motion, I swing up from the bunk, do a round of one hundred sit-ups to ensure I'm fully awake, then head out.

≈ ≈

Kate's here.
In Afghanistan. She's in full dress uniform, looking all brass and out of place, but she's still her usual Barbie-look-alike self.

Stein gives me a questioning look and then seductively regards Kate. We all glance over at the doorway at the same time when Reed appears. He looks glum, but, somehow, in charge.

My mind races with the possibilities. I get this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. There are way too many people in this room to be doing a debriefing on a mission that resulted in just three enemy kills.
Fuck.

"Sit down, Lieutenant Wainwright," Kate says. "Please join us, Colonel Reed."

I glance over at Reed in surprise. He outranks me by two and one less than Kate. I thought he was an enlisted man.
Holy shit.
I sink further into the chair and realize that this meeting is all about me.

The softball questions begin right away. I'm inundated with the how-do-you-feel-about-this-Lieutenant questions. Kate starts off easy, but there's a sinister glint in her startling blue eyes. Within five minutes, I'm fielding questions about my personal life. She goes for the jugular on one of her first hardball questions. "Can you explain to us why you left out the part where your fiancée Annie Gilmore was killed in a car accident, just prior to you signing up for SEAL training?"

"She was dead. I didn't have anything to do, so I signed up." I shrug.

"You quit law school with just one semester left to join the SEALS; isn't that right?"

"Yes."

"And Lieutenant Holloway signed on at the same time?"

"Yes."

"And then, he met and married Jordan Breckinridge, just prior to leaving for his first tour with you here in Afghanistan?"

"Yes."

"Did you
know
her?" Kate asks. There's a perverse edge to her tone that is so evident that I clench my jaw tighter.

"Not exactly. Not at that time. We shipped out. First tour. Second tour. I met her for the first time last February, just before our third tour. Almost a year ago."

"And what did you think of her?" Kate's eyes narrow as she watches me closely.

"She was great. I met up with the two of them in L.A. at their place in Malibu for a long weekend." I shrug with indifference. "Then, Ethan and I returned to finish our tour. Here."

"How was Ethan when you returned for the third tour?"

"He was fine."

"Not distracted?"

"Not that I can remember."

Kate flips to her notes. "Let me refresh your memory. When we met on April 22nd of last year, during one of our sessions, you said, and I quote: 'Ethan had been distracted since our return to Afghanistan.'"

"I guess he was distracted. He wasn't as focused. Neither of us were."

"Why do you think that was?"

The loaded question.
I thought I'd be ready for it.

Kate lifts her head and dispassionately looks at me and just waits for my answer. She's got an axe to grind and possibly a chance to save her job or get a promotion; I haven't determined which one yet.

"I'm not sure," I say with a defiant lift of my head. I stare straight at her.

"Surely, you must have a theory. You spent time with Lieutenant Holloway every single day. You knew him better than anyone else."

I flinch at the starkness of her words. She's pulling no punches now. Memories of Ethan come at me.

"Because of Jordan. She wrote him a letter and said she thought she might be pregnant, and he was upset."

"Why?"

"Because he had finally realized he was missing everything."

"And, how did that make you feel?"

"Unfocused. Guilty."

"Guilty about what?" Kate asks.

"I fell in love with his wife while I was with them in Malibu."

Kate sucks in her breath. I can tell she wasn't expecting my answer to be so forthcoming.

"Do you think your fiancée's death and Ethan's affected your service, your performance, Lieutenant Wainwright?" she asks with disquiet.

I take a deep breath before answering and silently debate the odds of telling a lie versus telling the truth. Either way, I'm out. That's why Kate's here. She's here to save her job. It's on her. She signed off on my psych evaluation for my full return to duty. Instinctively, I know Reed's involved as well. My gut tells me Reed set me up and blew the whistle.

"Annie was the reason I was here for tours one and two. Ethan is the reason I'm here for this one and the next. I avenge Ethan's death every day."

Kate makes a point of shaking her lovely blond head side-to-side. Her hair is pinned to the nape of her neck and even now I long to undo it and fuck her properly.

She looks at me with detachment before saying, "I can't sign off on this, not with the information about your fiancée that's come to light and the fact that you've admitted to being in love with Ethan's wife." She even manages a little wispy smile as she says this. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. You're going home. You're to be honorably discharged, effective immediately."

"I'll stay and serve and just finish my tour," I say.

"No. You jeopardize yourself and your team every second you're out in the field. You're here for the wrong reasons." She shrugs her slim shoulders. "You can pack your things and take the flight back with me. I've got authorization to sign your out papers."