For I knew in my heart that I had lost
him.
Since his return from Iraq, Liam was a
changed man—easily startled, hypervigilant, quick to anger, tightly
coiled, unpredictable—and I felt like I was constantly walking on
eggshells.
Every day was an upheaval.
Being with Liam used to be so easy, so
effortless. Now we were surrounded by an intensity that almost
always lingered in the air.
It suffocated the life out of me. It felt as
though my whole universe were choking.
I didn’t know what to do, how to react. I was
totally unprepared for this entirely new Liam. It was difficult for
me to understand his radical change in mood, in his behavior.
Even his personality had changed. He wasn’t
the same Liam who had left for Iraq months ago. I tried to be
patient, to give him some space, but he seemed to drift further and
further away from me.
He became disengaged, not just from me, but
from everyone.
He never wanted to leave the house, and he
drank excessively.
Every day, I fought for him. Every day, I
fought for us, desperately trying to find something to unite
us.
Because our past wasn’t enough.
Love, something I had always thought could
conquer all, could not withstand the way the war ripped at us.
Another bolt of lightning flashed, bruising
and dividing the gray sky.
Thunder grumbled, then rumbled and
roared.
This rain that fell from the burdened clouds,
it wasn’t soft, smooth, or calming.
It was torrential, raging, and tumultuous,
drawing those same emotions out of me.
Rain-soaked, Liam remained kneeling before
the grave marker, his heart flooding with so much anguish as he
grieved the death of his fallen brother.
I watched his face… watched as the life left
his dark eyes, and a sob broke from my chest.
Tears clung to my lashes, and so did the
rain, camouflaging those tears as I stood by him, mourning the
death of the man I loved.
Mourning the death of the man who had left
for Iraq and never came back to me.
Chapter Thirteen
Liam
I was replacing the drawer pulls on the
dresser when a slight movement in the corner of my eye arrested my
motion.
When I saw it was just Vivian, the tension in
my arms eased somewhat, but not entirely.
“
What are you doing?” she
asked.
I felt her eyes boring into my back as I
tightened the final screws. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“
You’re replacing the
brushed nickel handles with plastic ones. What I want to know is
why?” Her voice was light, but there was a slight edge to
it.
I considered ignoring her question, but what
was the point?
She wasn’t going to leave me alone until I
gave her an answer.
Closing my eyes, I concentrated on breathing.
“Every time I use the brushed nickel handles, I remember the
caskets.”
Vivian had been with me at Garcia’s funeral.
But she didn’t know about the other flag-draped caskets of the
fallen soldiers, of the men from my unit that I’d lifted into the
holds of aircrafts for their final journey home.
I glanced over my shoulder in time to see her
startled reaction.
She opened her mouth, snapped it shut, and
stared at me.
The silence between us felt unwieldy.
With a ragged sigh, I turned to face her and
said, “Look, I’m sorry. I know this is your house and your
furniture. And even though this is my room, that’s not even my
dresser. But it’s only temporary. I’ll make sure I switch out the
drawer pulls before I move out.” And I planned on moving out as
soon as I got a new job and earned a steady income. Almost every
paycheck I’d received from the army, I sent to my mom.
An Aussie at heart, Mom had moved back to
Melbourne after the divorce. When Mom left Dad, she left will
almost nothing, and I wanted to help her out as much as I
could.
“
No, no, no.” Viv
dismissed my words with a wave of her hand. “I don’t care if you
replace all the drawer pulls. And who said anything about you
moving out? As far as I’m concerned, this is your home, too, Liam.
So if there’s anything you want to change, go ahead and change it.
It doesn’t bother me. All right?” She smiled. It was a smile full
of exhaustion, sorrow, and other unreadable things.
I nodded, keeping my face schooled into an
expressionless mask.
I hated the barriers between us as much as I
understood the need.
But it was better this way.
I didn’t want her to see the volatile
emotions raging just beneath the surface.
The memories of the dead, the memories of
June eighteenth, they still burned within me like a bed of live
coals.
Another uncomfortable silence ensued.
We found little to say to each other these
days.
I didn’t know how to reach back out to
Vivian.
I didn’t know how to find my way out of the
shadows that had engulfed my life.
I felt like a bomb on a trick timer, ready to
blow at any given moment, and so I avoided Vivian as much as I
could because I didn’t want to direct my anger at her.
“
Have you talked to your
mom lately?” she asked suddenly.
“
No.” I dragged a hand
through my hair and released a heavy sigh. Mom had called me every
day, but I just couldn’t bring myself to talk to her. We used to
Skype often, too, but not anymore.
My mom could always see right through me.
And I knew once she saw me, she’d know my
“human switch” was turned off.
Every time I turned it back on, it
illuminated a tangle of bad memories—visions of bloated corpses and
bloodied body parts, the smell of diesel fuel mixed with gunpowder
and burning flesh, and a host of other images I wanted to
forget.
That son she’d raised… he was gone. I was
gone.
I wasn’t the man she knew anymore, and I
wasn’t sure if Mom could accept that.
Hell, I wasn’t even sure if Viv could accept
that.
“
Talk to her, Liam,” she
spoke into the silence, looking at me with kindness I couldn’t
stand. “We all need family. Without family, we are
nothing.”
My gut clenched like a
fist.
I’m already
nothing
, I thought.
Vivian watched me, waiting, her blue eyes
searching mine, and I knew I should say something.
Anything.
But I felt incapable of even the most
rudimentary exercise in emotion.
I heard the way her breath caught in her
throat when she knew I wasn’t going to pick up the thread of
conversation.
“
Well…” she said
forcefully. “I’ve gotta go to class right now. And after that, I’ll
be stopping by Chelsea’s place for while. I should be back around
seven-ish.”
I managed a single nod.
“
So, um…” She stared at me
with wounded eyes. She looked so fragile and fierce, and I longed
for something more than animosity between us.
I wanted to wipe all the ugliness out of our
lives, but I didn’t know how. And I didn’t know what I was going to
do. About anything.
Finally, she drew a long
breath. “I guess I’ll go now.”
With one
last wounded glance, she turned to leave.
“
Vivian,” I said
slowly.
Her stride hitched and she paused mid-step.
But she didn’t turn around.
Again my stomach seized.
Say
something
, I urged myself.
But what?
When it came to feelings, I’d always kept my
emotions inside and dealt with them on my own.
Vivian waited. But it wasn’t long before she
resumed her pace and left.
My breath left my lungs in a sigh and my
shoulders fell. I remained standing there, watching her soft form
recede, feeling foolish and incredibly frustrated with myself.
At some point, Atticus hopped off the bed and
bounded up to me, wagging his tail and eager to please. I rested my
hand against his head and stroked his thick, glossy mane. “I messed
up again. Didn’t I, boy?”
The dog simply pressed his nose to my side,
consoling me with little licks on my wrist.
“
Yeah,” I muttered,
answering my own question. “I messed up again.”
Chapter Fourteen
Vivian
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted me
the minute I sauntered into Chelsea’s kitchen. With a weary sigh, I
collapsed into a chair with the grace of a large beast.
“
Drink this,” Chelsea
said, handing me a mug of coffee. “It’ll make you feel
better.”
For no definable reason, her words annoyed
the hell out of me. “Who says I need help feeling better?” I
plunked my keys down on the kitchen table and balanced the mug
between my hands. “I don’t need help feeling better,” I snapped.
“I’m fine.”
“
Oh, for God’s sake, Viv.”
Chelsea raised her eyes skyward. “Has angst gone out of style yet?
Wake me up when it’s gone, all right?”
I lifted the mug to my lips and took a long
sip before answering. “Am I really that bad?”
“
Lately you have been,”
Chelsea said, sitting down across from me.
“
Delicious coffee.” I
retreated into politeness, thinking about what she’d just
said.
Angsty
,
she’d called me.
Perhaps I was letting Liam’s mood be the
pendulum for how I felt each day. Or maybe I was just completely
sucked into his vortex.
If Liam was angry or withdrawn, I felt
stressed. I had trouble focusing on anything I needed to do. But
stressed as I was, I suppressed my feelings as best I could because
I saw Liam unraveling, and I felt I had no choice but to hold
everything together for his sake.
Chelsea’s lilting voice drifted over, cutting
into my thoughts. “Inhale the good shit,” she said serenely. “And
exhale the bullshit.”
Closing my eyes, I inhaled, then exhaled.
When I opened my eyes, I caught Chelsea
studying me. “What?” I gave her a shaky smile. “What?”
The look she gave me was
long and considering. “What’s
really
going on with you and
Liam?”
“
I don’t know,” I answered
truthfully. It was as if that happy place we used to be in as a
couple was no longer on the map. “I’m not really sure anymore. It’s
like he’s here physically but over there mentally. Like he’s stuck
between two worlds… lost in some sort of emotional
void.”
“
Hmm.” Chelsea’s gaze
became thoughtful, then searching. “Haven’t you heard all this talk
about a ‘new normal’ for returning vets?”
“
I guess.” I allowed my
brows to crease a moment before continuing. “But I never really
understood it. All he does is keep his distance from me. And it’s
so frustrating! He talks more to Atticus than he does to
me.”
“
So?” Chelsea gave a
careless shrug. “I talk to my dogs and my cats more than I talk to
humans. Sometimes I like animals more than I like humans.” She
shrugged again. “That’s normal.”
I lifted the mug to my lips and took a slow
sip. “I miss him, Chels. I miss being able to talk to him about
anything and everything. Now we have a long list of topics that
can’t be discussed. And a long lists of things we can’t do.”
“
Like what?”
“
Well…” I hesitated. It
might actually be a relief to get some of the stress out. I needed
an outlet and Chelsea was here, willingly offering herself and
lending me her ears. I took a slow breath before continuing. “We
used to enjoy being outside, we used to love going to the beach,
but now he can’t stand the sand anymore. And he wouldn’t go to
Katie’s party last week because barbecues remind him of the smell
of burning flesh. Today he was replacing the drawer pulls with
plastic ones because the nickel handles remind him of caskets.” I
sighed. “The only good thing that’s come of all this is he’s quit
smoking.”
“
Seriously?” Surprise
marked her features.
“
Uh-huh.” I nodded. “Cold
turkey. Apparently, the smell of smoke triggers some traumatic
memories.”
“
Of what?”
“
I don’t know.” I pushed
an envelope of air through my teeth. Every time I’d tried to broach
the subject, my questions were met with terse one-word replies, and
sometimes he just ignored me completely. “He won’t talk to me about
it. He won’t talk to me about anything.”
“
I see.” Chelsea reclined
in her chair and fell into ponderous silence. At last, she said,
“How’s your sex life, by the way? You guys still doing
it?”
My lips quirked and I suppressed a grin. “All
the time.” In fact, the only time we truly connected was when we
had sex. “He seems to want it more,” I confessed. “Almost like he’s
addicted to it. But…” I paused, feeling myself blush. “Sex is
different now. It’s…”
“
Rough?” Chelsea finished.
“Let me guess. He pounds you like a jackhammer?”
“
Um, something like that,”
I admitted. “I missed it when we used to really
get into
it. Now we’re just
going at
it.”
“
Gurrrrrl.
” Chelsea made a crooning
voice at the back of her throat. “Who cares? Variety is best. Soft,
hard, tied to a tree—I say give it to him. Bang him senseless! Blow
his mind with sex! That will set his head on straight!”