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“As you know, I’m going to meet with Evan in a little while, but we’re not done. I’m very aware of your timeline to get things resolved. If I were in your shoes, I’d postpone the wedding until the three of you can sort everything out. I’m not saying cancel, but just put it off for a bit. I’m afraid you’d do yourself and Nate an injustice if you went t
hrough with the ceremony as planned.
“I’ve cleared my calendar this week and plan to see you and Evan – together – in the next couple of days to discuss what methods need to be implemented for both of you to be successful parents to EJ because frankly, he’s the most important person in this travesty and we need to make sure he’s well taken care of.”
I nod and stand, extending my hand to her. “I’m sorry I was so rude and absent when we began. I’ve had years of talking about Evan, to find closure and to have those wounds ripped open – sitting down and talking to a stranger was not something I wanted to do.”
“I completely understand, Ryley.” She stands and walks me to the door. I pause, with my hand on the knob and brace myself. Evan could be there, waiting. We could see each other, make eye contact and both would see how much hurt we’ve been going through. Only, I don’t sense him there, but I’ve learned not to follow my gut anymore.
“He’s not there, Ryley, if that’s why you’re waiting.” I let her words linger in the air as I open the door slowly to find Lois still with her nose in a magazine, just like I left her. She looks up, smiles softly and stands to take my hand.
“EVAN, I THINK WE’RE finished for today.”
My head lifts quickly as I meet her gaze. There is a look of pity masking her smile. She can pity me. It’s understandable. If I were in her shoes I’d pity the person I am right now. I chance a look at the clock and see that I still have a few more minutes. Maybe she feels how broken I am and needs time to regroup or find someone else to fix me.
“Okay,” I say hesitantly. I’m not sure I want to go through this again with another doctor, and definitely not a military one.
The doc folds the page of her notepad over and slides it into her desk. She smiles softly. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Ryley this morning. My schedule has been cleared this week so I can help get things resolved, or heading toward a resolution. My plan is to see you and Ryley together in the next couple of days to discuss what methods need to be implemented for both of you. My concern is EJ. You need to be able to bond with him and she understands that.”
She stands, coming over to me. “My suggestion, and I didn’t tell this to Ryley, is for you to spend some time with her. She’s hurting, Evan. While you thought everything was fine, aside from the fact that you were gone for so long, she buried you and tried to move on with her life. She’s making neither heads nor tails of what’s happening right now, but give her time without letting her slip through the cracks.”
My body sighs as I stand, as if it knows I don’t have to sit in that chair anymore. My feet shuffle toward the door, leaving the doc leaning up against her desk. “Thank you,” I say before opening the door and leaving the room.
The sun is bright and penetrating when I step out of the office. I have to shield my eyes quickly before I walk out into traffic. Once my eyes adjust, I look across the street to the park hoping to see Ryley sitting over there. If she were, it’d be so much easier to talk to her right now, although the thought of bringing her to base makes more sense to me since she wouldn’t be able to run away from me. Somehow, however, I don’t think Ryley wants to be anywhere near the base – not that I can blame her. At this point, I don’t want to be there either, except it’s the only choice I have since I’m not really welcome in my own home.
With only one other destination in mind, I text the guys and ask them to meet me. We need to figure out what’s going on. Each of our situations is different, yet we’re all experiencing the same thing. I also need to bite the bullet and call my mother. I’m not sure why I haven’t yet. I guess I’ve been waiting to see if our unearthly return would make the news, but so far nothing has been reported. Every time I learn another factoid about this deployment, I’m more convinced that it was not legit.
Pulling in front of Magoo’s, it would be easy to go drown my sorrows in beer, but I need to keep a level head about the situation. If I ask the wrong person a question, who knows what could happen? As is, someone high up has taken away my life. It doesn’t matter that I’m standing here today or not. I’m not the same person and someone needs to pay.
It’s a happy relief to walk in and be surrounded by friends. The bar stools are full of patrons, men I’ve served with in the past. Tables are thrown together to make bigger spaces and the same chairs are still here. An American flag hangs on the wall with various pictures surrounding it. All these pictures have been given or sent to Rick, the owner, for display. I refuse to look at the wall that holds all our past SEALs. I know the four of us are up there or maybe Rick has taken them down. Either way, I’m not looking, at least not today.
I’ve spent many hours trying to figure out what happened and answering all the questions I could. It’s very unsettling to know that people thought you were dead.
It only takes me a second or two to spot Raskin and McCoy.
Justin “Rask” Raskin, being the single guy he is, only had to deal with his parents on his return. His mom fainted after she answered the phone and his dad threatened to beat whoever was on the other end. They’re arriving tomorrow. We’ve all promised to be there for him when he sees them for the first time. I think that’s another reason why I can’t call my mom. I need to see her and Livvie, and I know I can’t continue to put it off any longer. Thing is, spending time with my son and his mother is more important. Well, his mother is the icing on my unfrosted cake. If I get any time with her it’ll be worth it.
Tucker McCoy is our sniper and a damn good one. When we met back at the base after our fateful return, his story was similar to mine except his wife left and took their daughter. She didn’t leave a forwarding address and isn’t in her hometown. How he knows the latter is beyond me. I’m not going to ask. In fact, I try not to ask any questions because our wounds are so deep it’s like pouring salt in them, rinsing and repeating.
The guys are sitting at the table throwing the beers back. I can’t help but wonder if they were already here when I called them. I probably would’ve been had I not agreed to the therapy session today.
Just as I sit down, Raymond “River” Riveria, walks in. He receives pats on the back, shares handshakes and is admired by our fellow brothers. He’s our fire team leader and a damn fine one at that. Frannie, his wife, and Ryley are friends; at least, they were when we left. River’s the lucky bastard of the group. His wife welcomed him home with open arms and then vowed vengeance on whoever is responsible for the colossal fuck-up. Frannie offered their extra bedroom to me, but I declined. They haven’t seen each other in years, the last thing they need is a roommate. River and Frannie also know everything about what’s going with Ryley. It’s a bit comforting to hear from Frannie that Nate and Ryley didn’t just fall in love and that she refused him for years, even though it still hurts and doesn’t really change my opinion of the situation.
Since our return, it’s been a never-ending cycle of pain. I’m starting to wonder if we were better off never coming back. Most of the wives and families had accepted that we were dead, and yet here we are ripping open healed wounds without any of the answers that our families and we need so desperately.
There’s an uncomfortable silence at the table. It’s completely different from when you’re meeting someone for the first time and you’ve run out of things to talk about. This silence is deafening, scary. We have too much to say with far too many questions to ask, and we’re all afraid of the answers.
A fresh pitcher of beer is set on the table and two other glasses added. I nod at Slick Rick, who is a dear friend of all the SEALs. He’s owned this bar for years and has always catered to the Navy. As far as he’s concerned this is our establishment. He’s open seven days a week and when I asked him why, he said the military is always working and so was he. As soon as our glasses are filled, we raise them toward the bar, acknowledging our thanks. Rick waves us off as if thanks aren’t needed.
“I’m hiring a private investigator.” It’s McCoy who breaks the silence. He?
?s lost the most out of our group. While some may think that he’s in the same boat I am, it’s not strictly true. I have the luxury of seeing Ryley whenever I want even if it tears me apart. McCoy hasn’t seen his daughter, who was three when we left, and now she’s gone.
“It’s smart,” River says, as he sits down. “Frannie wants us to talk to someone from the CIA to help us.”
“Why?” Rask asks, which honestly dumfounds me.
“Because something happened to us and our families,” I say. “After the shit I learned today, the articles I read… this mission we were on was a cover-up for something bigger and we were pawns.” I chug down my glass of beer and refill it, emptying the pitcher. No sooner do I set it down, another one appears. Rick just knows.
