Emily
By some unspoken agreement, Nix has stayed at my apartment every night this week. He plays my body in the most delicious of ways and it feels true and thoroughly used. It's a feeling I could get used to.
There has been yet another subtle shift in our relationship.
And yes...there is now a relationship.
Despite the earlier lines in the sand that we drew, we have progressed to something different. I just don't know what it is. It's fuzzy and not easily definable, and it feels slightly out of reach.
Nix and I don't go out on dates. We don't do things that normal couples do. I go to school, he works, and at the end of the day, we come together in a fit of blazing passion. I now know Nix’s body as well, if not better, than my own.
But it's not just sex between us. After we both empty ourselves, Nix will hold me and we'll talk about everything and nothing. I've told Nix all about my childhood and he reciprocated. He's told me more about his time in the Marine Corps, mostly about his days stationed at Camp Lejeune. It seems he was quite the party animal back then.
Gone is the snarly, closed off Nix Caldwell. In his place is a different man. He hasn't completely opened up but smiles come more easily to his face and he seems to be a little lighter of spirit. I'm not vain enough to think I've single-handedly caused this change in Nix. He's proven already to himself and the world that he effectuates his own change. From what little bit he's told me of his past, he clearly is a man that can accomplish any feat he deems necessary.
But I do like to think I am a little bit of the reason he smiles more. And I want to make it my mission to create a permanent smile on his face. I don't want him to ever be scared, or furious, or angry again. I want him to only know the good and happy parts of life.
I'm such a girl.
It's Saturday morning and I'm lying in Nix’s bed for the first time all week. The Rangers are out of town again so we stayed here last night. We watched the dumbest movie I've ever seen—The Human Centipede—which was not only stupid, but frighteningly grotesque.
Even its blend of horror and low budget effects couldn't make my eyes stay open. I fell asleep with my head in Nix’s lap. He woke me up with the most luscious of kisses when the ending credits were rolling.
Before I knew it, both of us were stripped out of our clothes and naked on the couch. After contorting our bodies in a variety of orgasm inducing positions, Nix finally carried my naked body back to his bedroom where we both collapsed in sleep.
I can now hear Nix banging around in the kitchen and I know he's making breakfast for us. As much as I would love to lay here and have him serve me in bed, I'd rather spend the time watching him cook and talking to him.
I slip out of bed and walk over to his dresser where I've seen him pull out t-shirts before. I don't think he'll mind if I borrow one of his. In fact, he admitted to me once that the first night I slept over when he picked me up from the nightclub, the image of me in his t-shirt the next day had really turned him on.
Maybe I could go for a repeat performance this morning.
I open the drawer and reach in to grab the first t-shirt on top. My fingers brush against something that feels both hard and soft to my senses. Pulling the t-shirt out, I see a black velvet box. It's clearly not a female jewelry box, which was my first thought. Rather, it's thicker and it's square. There is a tiny latch on the front.
My curiosity gets the better of me. I suddenly want to see what type of jewelry Nix Caldwell favors. Because in a million years, I cannot imagine the man ever wearing adornments other than his watch.
Flipping the latch, I pull the top back and my breath catches.
Lying on a platform of black velvet is a blue and white ribbon with a medal in the shape of a cross attached. I know this is a military decoration but I don't know its significance. I wish I had my iPhone in here but it's laying out in the living room. Otherwise I'd just GTS.
Then I see Nix’s phone on the bedside table and I grab for it before my conscience can dictate otherwise. I quickly Google "military medals" and click on the "images" tab.
Right away I find that I'm holding the Navy Cross in my hand. I read a Wikipedia link that says it's awarded for extraordinary heroism while engaged in action against an enemy of the United States.
I set Nix’s phone aside and pick the medal back up. I stroke my fingers down the metal surface and I wonder what happened in Afghanistan that warranted Nix to be awarded this.
And why is it shoved in the bottom of his t-shirt drawer?
There is a piece of paper folded into the top of the case and I open it up. It starts, "The President of the United States takes pleasure in presenting the Navy Cross to Nixon Henry Caldwell, Sergeant, United States Marine Corps, Team Leader, 2d Platoon, Bravo Company, MARSOC, FIRST Marine Division FMF in support of Operation ENDURING FREEDOM...
"What are you doing with that?" I hear Nix snarl from the doorway and I jump sky high he scares me so bad.
He's staring at me with blazing ferocity in his eyes. His fists are clenched and his jaw muscles on both sides are ticking. He's not happy and I'm so busted.
I stand up and start stammering. "I'm sorry. I was getting a t-shirt to wear from your drawer and I saw this there. I was just...being nosy I guess." I'm holding the medal in one hand and the paper in the other.
Expecting my little "nosy" confession to lighten Nix’s mood, I give him a small, shameful smile. He's not impressed or moved. Instead, he stomps over to me and rips the medal and document out of my hand. Opening the same drawer I found it in, Nix throws them both in and slams it shut, causing the mirror on top to rattle heavily.
He spins around on me. "Do not go through my things again. Ever."
"I'm sorry, Nix. I won't."
Some of the tension leaves his shoulders but I clearly don't know how to keep my mouth shut for I ask, "What was the medal for?"
Wrong move.
His spine stiffens again and he wheels on me. "Jesus Christ, Emily. Don't you know how to mind your own fucking business?"
I shrink back from his words. No one has ever spoken to me with such hateful menace before. And he's not finished. He puts both hands on top of his head and looks up at the ceiling.
"FUCK!" he yells to no one in particular.
It's at this point I realize that I'm completely naked, never having put the t-shirt on that I borrowed. I quickly pull it over my head because I'm feeling vulnerable under the glare of his acrimony.
I reach out tentatively to him and I feel like I'm dealing with a wild animal. "I'm so sorry..."
He takes a step back from me, fury and rage still masking his face. He holds his hands out to me in the universal sign of "stay the hell away from me".
"I just...wanted to know a bit more about you...I thought...the medal had something to do with your injuries."
Again...wrong move. I apparently don't know how to just shut the fuck up.
If I thought Nix was enraged before, I had been sorely mistaken. His face mottles red and I swear his pupils have flames in them. He lunges toward me and grabs my upper arm. It's not painful but it's not comfortable either.
He marches me to his bedroom door and with his words chopped and shaky, he says, "This isn't going to work, Emily. I need you to leave."
I dig my heels into the carpet. Oh, hell no I'm not leaving.
"Wait, Nix. I'm sorry. I'll back off. You don't have to tell me anything about what happened there."
And then the dam bursts opened. "Fuck you, Emily. You don't just get to rip this shit open and then say you're sorry. Why couldn't you leave well enough alone? I should have known better than to trust you. I thought you respected my privacy, but you're fucking like everyone else. You want to dig, and poke, and prod, and figure out what demons make my world go round. Well, FUCK YOU EMILY! I don't need this shit and I don't need you. Now GET OUT and don't ever contact me again!"
I am stunned speechless. I don't know what to say and I am devastated by the pain and hate in his words. I've crossed an unforgivable line with Nix and I can't take it back.
But I try one more time, "Please, Nix. I'm sorry—"
He's having none of it. He pushes me out of his bedroom door and just says, "You got five minutes to get the fuck out of my house or I'll throw your naked ass out of here. Don't push me, Emily."
Then he slams the door in my face.
I stand there for just a second before a sob tears out of my throat. I clap my hand over my mouth and spin from the door so Nix doesn't hear it. I won't give him that luxury...to know that he hurt me that badly.
I all but stumble to the living room as the tears are now pouring down my face. I'm not even sure how I get dressed but I do. As I'm slipping my shoes on, I become aware that Harley is there, nudging me with this nose. He's trying to get my attention and I ignore him. Finally, he gives a whine and I stop to look at his soulful face. Grief courses through me and I drop to my knees, wrapping my arms around his neck. Burying my face in his soft fur, I let loose with wracking sobs. I have a sharp pain in the center of my chest and I'm sure it's my heart breaking.
Finally, I pull back and I'm embarrassed to see Nix standing in the hallway, his arms crossed over his chest, watching me weep into Harley's neck. His face is cold and hard but I see something flicker there as he watches us.
Is he here to apologize? To beg me to stay?
I'll accept. I'll say yes.
"Harley...come," he calls. And no matter how heartbroken I am, Harley's loyalty is to Nix...as it should be. He turns from me and pads over to his master, pushing his head into Nix’s hand. I notice Nix doesn't bother to pet Harley and that tells me a lot.
Nix turns his back on me and walks back to his bedroom, softly shutting the door. I would have preferred him to slam it because that would tell me he is still being controlled by anger. Instead, I'm hearing soft acceptance of the situation and that slices deeper than his rage.
I gather the rest of my things and leave the apartment, knowing that my life will not be the same again.
Nix
2 weeks later...
I boot the laptop up and grab a beer while I wait. Harley is curled up at my feet.
We've been holed up in this dingy hotel in the town of Oleny, Illinois for two days. It's the last leg of our journey from California. I've been stalling, not quite ready to head back to reality. But tomorrow...for sure...I'm going back home to New Jersey.
Opening Outlook, I take a long swallow of beer. I need to send an email and it will make one person very happy, and hopefully it will work out for two more people as well.
I need to think about what I'm going to say, so I stall by reading some email exchanges I've had over the past few weeks.
I burn with a little shame and a whole lot of guilt when I read the first one from Linc.
Date: November 10, 2012 8:17 a.m.
To: Nix Caldwell [[email protected]]
From: Linc Caldwell [[email protected]]
Re: Happy Birthday Asshole!
Nix: What the fuck dude? You take off without telling me where you're going? It's a good thing you at least let dad know you were traveling or I would so kick your ass. You have some explaining to do. I don't know what happened between you and Emily but Ryan is extremely pissed at you. If it's any consolation, I know I told you not to hurt her, and you clearly did, but I know you didn't do it intentionally. You're not that type of man. I hope you get your shit worked out. Miss you buddy.
Oh, and Happy Marine Corps Birthday!
Semper Fi
Linc
Yes, I'm riddled with guilt and shame. I didn't intentionally mean to hurt Emily the way I did. I was so angry, so afraid of her finding out the truth about me, that I had absolutely no control over my words. I never, in a million years, would try to hurt her, but I hurt her all the same. And I hate myself for it.
The next email I read represents the start of my journey back to salvation. It took me less than twenty-four hours to decide to pack my shit and hit the road after I kicked Emily out. It took me a bit longer to realize I needed help and I reached out to Dr. Antoniak.
Date: November 11, 2012 6:21 a.m.
To: M. Antoniak [[email protected]]
From: Nix Caldwell [[email protected]]
Re: Help
Dear Dr. Antoniak:
I think I may have screwed my life up pretty royally and I really need to talk to you. Unfortunately, I'm in California so I obviously can't come and see you. Can we do a phone session?
Just as a head's up, I was in a situation where my rage completely took over and I'm afraid I said some things to Emily that are pretty unforgivable. I'm not sure what to do but I would like to try to fix this. Any help is really appreciated.
Sincerely,
Nix Caldwell
I'm lucky that Dr. Antoniak responded to me almost immediately. We set up to have an hour session via phone for the following day. I spent most of the time telling her in exacting detail what transpired in my bedroom when Emily found my Navy Cross. It still came back to the same exact issue. I was suffering from extreme guilt over what transpired with Paul, and until I confronted that, Dr. Antoniak pretty much said I was fucked.
She didn't say it in quite those terms, but that's what I got out of it.
I spent the next week talking things through with Dr. Antoniak over a course of three phone sessions. She would send me follow up emails giving me words of encouragement.
I read one such email now.
Date: November 16, 2012 4:02 p.m.
To: Nix Caldwell [[email protected]]
From: M. Antoniak [[email protected]]
Re: You Can Do It
Dear Nix:
Just a quick note to tell you that I think we had a very good phone session today. You know the answers to all of your problems. Hell, you've probably known the answers all along. You are only missing the fortitude to push past your fears and confront your guilt head on.
You must go see Paul. You must talk through these feelings with him. Remember, it doesn't matter what he says. It doesn't matter what his perception is. It only matters that you get these feelings off of your chest so that they stop weighing you down. I personally trust that Paul is going to give you exactly what you need to heal.
Last piece of advice. You need to let Emily in sooner, rather than later. You need to trust in her too. Now get off your ass and go get it done. I have faith in you.
Dr. Antoniak
This last email has the desired effect and I believe I'm ready for what needs to be done. I open a new email to Dr. Antoniak and start typing.
Date: November 18, 2012 10:48 p.m.
To: M. Antoniak [[email protected]]
From: Nix Caldwell [[email protected]]
Re: Here I Go...
Dear Dr. Antoniak:
I’m heading back and will be home by tomorrow evening. I plan to see her then I'll head down to see Paul.
I'll let you know how it turns out.
Sincerely,
Nix
I hit "Send" and then shut my laptop down. I sit back on the bed and finish my beer, my thoughts straying to Emily as they normally do.
I miss her so much.
I cannot believe how much I fucked things up with her. I wasn't even sure that we had anything to fuck up. But once I pushed her out of my life, it was painfully obvious how much she fulfilled me. If I thought I was only half of a person before I met Emily, I was nothing but a wasted, dried out husk after she was gone.
Over the past two years, I have spent all of my time trying to hide from my feelings. I was afraid of the torment they brought me. What I've come to learn is that the pain of losing Emily far exceeds anything that I could ever imagine happening to me.
And that realization alone makes me understand with shocking clarity that I have nothing to fear by talking to Paul. Nothing can hurt as bad as the way I feel when Emily is not in my life.
I've probably lost her for good and that's a consequence I'll have to bear. But I need to let her know she's taught me so much in the few weeks I've known her. She's shown me the path to my own salvation and I am finally strong enough to walk it.