Nigh,
I still think about you every day. Sometimes whether I want to or not. Things have been pretty busy. The new company I’m in is a whole new breed of soldiers. I like it, but I miss you. When I get a chance, I sit and watch the sunset, and think about our game, and the pub, and your stupid temper tantrums. I miss it all. Tell everyone I said hi.
Ryan
I folded the paper back to its original shape.
“Do I have to remind you that this isn’t your fault?” Jared asked.
Ryan’s sudden departure was too much of a coincidence to believe that it wasn’t my fault, but Jared, Kim, and Beth all assured me quite regularly that his reasons were purely financial.
He didn’t write again after that, and I relied on Jared’s intermittent phone calls from Claire to hear of his whereabouts, and that he was okay.
Claire still had to pull a multitude of strings to keep a close eye on Ryan. She called home frequently to complain of Ryan’s lack of self-preservation, which helped to get him accepted so quickly into the Special Forces in the first place. Claire’s phone calls were reason to fear; for Ryan and for her. I chewed my thumbnail each time Jared answered the phone, waiting for him to assure me that Ryan’s commando behavior hadn’t gotten him killed.
As our small, but close group of friends waved goodbye on the last day of our sophomore year at Brown, Ryan came to the forefront of my mind.
“He should be here,” I said to Beth.
She held my arm as we walked to the parking lot. “I know.”
“No, he’s in the middle of nowhere, prone on a sand dune, trying not to get shot so he didn’t have to watch me be with Jared. It’s not fair. He should be here with us.”
Josh and Tucker were heading to their dorm to pack and head home, and Kim walked with them, punching Josh in the arm. The opening of Summer Break was bittersweet, and we all knew why.
Beth walked me to the Escalade, and after a warm embrace, left me to find Chad. They would all meet at the Pub that night to celebrate, and I would stay at home. It didn’t feel right to have fun when Ryan was fighting for his life.
Jared was unhappy with my mood. He didn’t ask what it was, but I assumed he knew. I didn’t enjoy talking to him about Ryan. It was unfair to him, and didn’t make me feel any better, so I didn’t see a point.
The loft was immaculate, and the summer sun lit the beige walls, making every corner of the room glow. It had been nearly a year since Shax had been in our living room, since Jared threw the book at him that Gabe so desperately wanted us to have. It had been almost a year since I was shot. I rubbed my thigh where the scar still remained.
Jared flipped through the mail at the kitchen table. “What do you want for dinner, Sweetheart?”
“It just doesn’t seem to get better,” I said, shaking my head. “We can redecorate, and fill the bullet holes in the walls, and pretend life is normal…but you’re gone every night, and we aren’t any closer to getting the book, and Ryan is gone. It’s been a year and it doesn’t feel like it’s gotten better. We’re stuck.”
Jared raised an eyebrow. “Bad day?”
I sat on the arm of the couch. “He’s going to get killed. Every day that he’s out there, Claire is in danger. We should bring him home.”
“You’re suggesting that we go to the Middle East and abscond with a member of the Special Forces?”
I puffed. “It’s not right that he’s not here.”
“You’re just letting the guilt eat you alive. You have to let it go, Nina. You have to let him go.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” I said. “This isn’t about me having feelings for him. Maybe it is about guilt, but I can’t stand it anymore…how Josh and Tucker and everyone else look at me. That’s why I don’t hang out with them, anymore. That’s why I don’t go to study group. I have been sleeping through the night for months, and I can’t go back. The looks on their faces—they blame me.”
“You blame you,” Jared said. “I have an idea,” he said, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed numbers, and then held the receiver to his ear.
After several moments, a grin touched his mouth. “Claire. How is everything? I see. I have someone here that would like to speak to you. You got a minute?”
Jared handed me the phone. “Hello?” I said, unsure of her reaction.
“It is hot as hell here,” Claire snapped. “I have sand in places no woman should experience. It’s in my hair, my eyes, the seat of my Jeep. There’s no getting rid of it, even when I get the occasional shower. And my hair looks like crap. So…how are things?”
I managed a quiet laugh. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” she sighed. “Don’t worry, Nina. I’m taking care of him. He’s a cowboy, and likes to pretend he’s invincible, but despite his best efforts, I’m keeping him alive.”