I sighed as I left the stairwell and let myself
into our apartment. They had me in mandatory group therapy, part of my reintegration process. I’d been overseas for a long time now. One of the things they’d told me was that I had to steer clear of giving in to baser needs while I came to grips with being back home. That meant not leaning too heavily on alcohol as a sleeping aid and not going out and fucking a bunch of random women just to feel normal and alive again.
Besides, Harper hadn’t seemed too excited to see me. She’d definitely been reluctant to meet up with me again, even though she’d given me her number. I had to wonder whether something had changed in her life. Maybe she was married now. Or maybe she was still doing the overseas correspondence stuff and was gearing up for another long trip away.
Or maybe she knew all the horror stories about ex-military guys trying to come back into normal society. Maybe she was afraid I was just another angry drunk—or worse.
I grabbed an energy drink from the fridge and headed for the makeshift gym that Stone and I had set up. There were plenty of good gyms around the city, and even a few in our area, but we’d come to the conclusion that it was cheaper to just have our own setup. And it meant that on nights when we couldn’t sleep, we could do a few reps to wear ourselves out. It was one of those quirks that we both understood in the other: a perk of living with someone who was also a former SEAL.
I didn’t have PTSD. I was sure of that. No matter what the shrinks kept telling me. It was just hard for me to sleep some nights, that was all.
But that was something I’d had issues with long before the SEALs.
I went at the punching bag, getting in some solid hits before pausing to take a break. I sucked down the rest of the energy drink, still thinking about Harper, about reintegration, about everything.
I wasn’t having any trouble with reintegration. I’d managed to find a place, to make some sort of routine, and I even had a job lined up. I was still adjusting to life in a city, still getting used to the noises around me. But that was only normal. And I was still adjusting to weird things like grocery stores, which seemed to have gotten bigger, with unnecessary amounts of choice. Or forgetting little conveniences like the dishwasher in the corner of our kitchen. But that was only normal.
If I wanted to see Harper, even if it was just for the sex, then there was no reason why I shouldn’t.
I went at the punching bag for another round, each hit quieting my mind somewhat. There was something to be said for the steady rhythm and the physical exertion.
But when I paused again, I was still thinking about Harper.
I could see Harper, I finally decided. But it had seemed like Harper didn’t really want to see me. That was a shame, but there was nothing I could do about it.
That realization settled something into my mind, and with another round with the punching bag, I was able to fully settle into the rhythm, letting go of the past. Letting go of Harper. If she didn’t want to see me, that was her deal.
Breathe in, jab, breathe out. Breathe in, jab, breathe out.
I fully submerged myself in the routine of it, letting myself forget everything.
3
Harper
It was Friday evening, and the military base in Kuwait was positively teeming with life.
I still sometimes felt like I had to pinch myself to convince myself that I was really there and that this wasn’t just a dream. Not that everything had been perfect in my time there. There had been plenty of horror stories, things that I’d never wanted to know about. But I was still amazed I was there, in Kuwait, writing pieces about the SEALs. They had granted me access like I could never have imagined, and I was one of the very few who really got to learn how these guys lived.
At this point, I’d been there for five months. It had been long and grueling. I had lost a bunch of weight living off military rations, not that I’d had a bunch of extra weight to start with, and I was constantly exhausted. Things frequently happened in the middle of the night, whether it was squadrons returning or attacks on other bases. I wasn’t on the front line, I wasn’t really near the action, but everyone still went on high alert as troops were shuffled around to combat various attacks.
There was a core group that stayed there at the base, though, or guys who passed through more frequently than the rest of them. Those were the guys I got to know best, and the guys who featured in the stories I wrote.
Not that I was allowed to use any of their names in the stories. And everything I wrote had to be approved by the commander. But everyone seemed impressed by the stories I was submitting, from the commander back to my editor and our readers. This was the kind of series that most reporters could only dream about, and here I was getting to write it.
I was pretty sure I deserved a Pulitzer for the work I’d done here.
Unfortunately, no matter how good my writing was, I knew that I might not even get a nod. The publishing world was still such a boys’ club, no matter how good the women were. No matter how important our stories were.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about all of that now. I only had a couple more weeks here in Kuwait, and I wanted to stay positive and pull together those last few stories. Whatever the fallout from this was, whatever doors it opened up for me, I’d deal with all of that once I got back home to Boston.
I smiled to myself, thinking of my return. I had a cozy little apartment in Brighton that I’d rented out while I was over here. It would be good to get back, and just in time for summer.
Of course, it was definitely going to be weird, going home. I’d gotten so used to life at the military base that things were going to seem strangely quiet. And cooking my own meals again was probably going to seem like a huge chore. And reporting to the office every day would be… kind of boring after all of this. I hoped they’d send me out on another assignment, if not with the SEALs, then something else overseas. Maybe. We’d have to see.
Maybe I’d get back home and be so relieved to be home that I’d never travel again. I smiled a little to myself, thinking of that. There were definitely some perks to going home. I was already dreaming of a long, hot shower with all my favorite products. That first week home was going to be all about pampering and luxury. Not that I lived a very extravagant lifestyle back home, but it was at least a few steps up from the utilitarian nature of everything here.
As I wandered aimlessly across the base, I waved at a few of the SEALs who were waiting for their next assignment. I wondered where they were off to, but I wouldn’t learn that information until they’d returned, their mission complete. I had had to get pretty high-security clearance just to come over here, but even that clearance didn’t give me the necessary standing to know about top secret missions in advance.