What If

I sat down on the closed lid of the toilet and picked up my phone from where it rested next to me. I pressed his name, and put the phone to my ear. My limbs were trembling in anticipation and uneasiness.

“Sorry, the number that you have dialed is unavailable,” A robotic voice said.

I didn’t cry or scream. I didn’t feel anything. The fact was, Arrow had gotten rid of his old number without telling me. There was no way of contacting him, which it seemed was exactly what he wanted. I stripped off my clothes, stepped into the steaming shower, and slid down until I was sitting underneath the spray of the showerhead. The water from the shower acted as the tears I wouldn’t allow myself to cry. I put the stopper into the shower drain and turned the water as hot as it could go. I soaked in the painfully hot pricks of water that hit me over and over again in the back, stabbing me, letting the pain I felt inside show on my skin.





My first tour in Afghanistan was supposed to be twelve months, but it turned into fourteen. It was rough being in a country so different from my own. It took weeks to receive mail from the states, and we were constantly busy. Unimaginable things occurred right before my eyes - things that I wanted to stop, but I was ordered to stand down. It wasn’t in my nature to view actions that were morally wrong and not do anything to keep it from happening. Yet it had been ingrained into my very being, as a Marine, to obey my orders. It wasn’t always an easy feat, but my exploits could’ve potentially brought harm to my brothers surrounding me. That was out of the question. Still, those fourteen months went by and soon I was leaving the sizzling, sandy landscape.

I came home to my wife, Lacey. We were stationed in California, where the sun was always shining, where any given city has a dozen different ethnicities. People were unique and bold in personality and willing to let their talents shine in unconventional ways.

When I got home, it took time to adjust to the life of a civilian. Sure, I was still a Marine, but I was on my soil. My soil never looked so damn good as when I first stepped off that plane. The first thing I did was to take my wife home and love her all night long. The second thing, I went out and got my first tattoo. Being a Marine was more than an occupation; it’s who I was. I had “Semper Fi,” tatted on my left forearm, which was Latin for “Always Faithful” or “Always Loyal.” The script was large, bolded, and masculine, and would serve as reminder every day for the rest of my life of my duty to this beautiful country. I was certainly not the first soldier to get this tattoo, and I wouldn’t be the last. But it held meaning to each of us.

“What does that even mean?” Lacey asked when I showed her the writing.

I tried, really tried, to not look at her like she grew a second head. She was my wife, and she had never heard of Semper Fi? I explained it as kindly as I could, but my patience had already been running thin from her lack of general knowledge.

“Maybe you should get my name right here,” Lacey said later that night as we lied naked in bed. She traced the indent underneath my left pectoral.

“Not happening.” I placed my hand on top of hers and moved her hand away from my heart.

Her eyebrows drew together. “Why not? I’m your wife.”

I closed my eyes and inhaled a mixture of sex and her expensive shampoo. “I’m not getting anybody’s name tattooed on my body.”

“Why? You don’t think you’ll always love me?” She pushed up on her elbows and fixated on my face.

“I didn’t say that.” I sighed. “Haven’t you ever heard that if you put your wife’s name on you, she’ll end up leaving you? It’s bad luck,” I conceded. That wasn’t my real reason. I just had no desire to put Lacey’s name on my skin. She meant a lot to me; she stuck around, she put in the effort, and she sent me care packages. She was a good woman.

“It’s bad luck?” She lay back down. “I still think you should think about it. I could get your name on my ring finger or something.”

Without giving her an answer, I turned around, my back facing her, turned off the light, pulled up the blanket, and pretended to fall asleep. Her breathing became deep about five minutes later. I looked over my shoulder, saw that she was completely knocked out, so I let out a sigh and allowed my body to finally relax.



Two years later, my life took another turn. I was going on my second tour of Afghanistan. I was told it would be eleven to twelve months. It was harder to leave Lacey and my life in California than it had been for my first deployment. See, for my first tour, I was leaving my new wife, which sucked, but we hadn’t really had the time to grow close. I was still getting over a missing person in my life, and I didn’t know what I was walking into after landing in that sauna of a country.

This time I knew exactly what I was missing out on. Lacey and I had found a comfortable life together. We made friends in our neighborhood and often had small parties that she and the other wives would plan. We had our arguments, but those were expected. The nightmares from my first tour were finally fading into the background of my mind. I should’ve known that when life was getting easy and relaxed that the universe was just preparing to throw me in another direction.

Lacey cried when she was seeing me off. All the wives, girlfriends, and significant others were a mess.

“I’ll miss you so much, baby,” she said against my lips.

“Time will fly by,” I said trying to stop her tears.

She shook her head and then laid her chin on my shoulder, wrapping her arms around me. I pulled her even closer. I wouldn’t cheat on my wife, but being away and not having her to fall into bed with at night was not easy.

“We’ve done this before; we can do it again.” She nodded, agreeing with my words.

I felt her eyes on me every step I took away from her, but I didn’t look back. I just kept marching forward, wondering what these next months had in store for me. I didn’t know that by walking on to that plane, I was striding towards my new, horrifying nightmares. I didn’t know that as I walked into the belly of the beast, I wasn’t going to make it out unscathed.





“I’ve been calling you all day!” Darcy’s voice was shrill in my ear.

“I told you yesterday that Killian was taking me out for our anniversary tonight. You know, one year of being married is kind of a big deal! I’ve been shopping all day for the perfect dress, and I found this unbelievable deal at…”

“Stop. Just stop.” I knew right then that something was incredibly wrong. Darcy’s voice broke and began trembling.

“Darcy, what happened?” I said slowly.

All that I could hear was the sniffle of her nose and the clearing of her throat as she tried to work the words out. My own hands began to tremble. I didn’t know what happened, but the fact that Darcy was crying was a sign itself. She didn’t cry often and, when she did you knew it was serious. I was in the middle of curling my hair, my dress already on, my make up completely finished, but hearing how wretched Darcy sounded, I sat down on the floor in front of the sink, bracing for the news.

“It’s Arrow.”

No. No. No. I struggled to breathe, the air leaving my body sounding wheezy and thick. Please, God, please don’t let him be dead. My entire body quaked, the phone quivered in my hand as I forced the cell to stay on my ear so I could find out everything.