When We Were Young Read online

  “We need to talk,” I said as convincingly as possible. My voice shook, because despite my confidence in certain aspects of my life, like my career as a nurse, I lacked it in almost every other area. I loved Parker, but upsetting him terrified me. He never hit me, but his anger only increased as each day passed. Maybe it was just his tolerance for me. I think that’s what scared me. That he tolerated me. That I was simply here because it was convenient. I didn’t want to know the truth behind how he really felt about me, so I buried it for many years.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. Parts of me were dying slowly, disappearing before my eyes. I had tried to help Parker, but the cost was becoming increasingly higher as each day went on. I was losing myself.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Rainey. I just got home, lay off, will you?” His phone dinged, and he smiled and shoved it back in his pocket. My heart twisted in my chest. I couldn’t remember the last time he smiled like that, at least not at me.

  I cringed at his words and took a deep breath, digging around within my broken self for any resolve I had left. I couldn’t let this slide anymore. He needed to know.

  “Sit, Parker. I’m not kidding.” I looked up at him, tears glistening in my eyes. He roughly pulled out the chair, the legs rubbing against the floor.

  We stared at each other for what seemed like forever, our unspoken words saying more than anything I could ever voice. His look was pure disgust, dripping with disdain as my tears fell.

  “I’m guessing you found out I’m leaving again. So, who told you this time?” Parker asked, taking a pull of his beer.

  “Leslie next door. She asked me how I felt about you leaving next week for Afghanistan.” Tears streamed down my face, and I quickly wiped them away. “You can imagine my shock when she told me my husband was leaving for a year in just a few days, and I knew nothing about it.”

  Parker hung his head and, for a second, looked like the man I married so many years ago. A man who cared about how I was doing and walked miles to bring me soup and flowers when I was sick with the flu in high school. I reached out and took his hand in mine to seek comfort, like I used to. As quickly as my old Parker was there, he was gone, the anger, the hatred taking him over. He jerked his hand away.

  “I knew you’d be pissed I signed up. I didn’t want to hear it. The guilt.” He let out his breath and stood up, polished off his beer, and threw it in the recycling.

  “The guilt?” I laughed between the tears. “The guilt of what? You obviously don’t care that you’re leaving me again. You don’t have to go! You keep signing up, and here I am left to live this life that is supposed to be ours.” I shook my head. “It isn’t ours. It’s a shit life where I pretend each day when you walk out that door that it doesn’t kill me that you need them more than you need me!” I was screaming, full-fledged shaking and crying, standing in front of the man that was once my everything. When did he become anything less? There was something about getting older that put things into perspective. Made you think about what it was that you wanted out of life. I guess it was that bigger picture that everyone talked about. I thought my bigger picture was crystal clear, but I had always been staring through chipped glass, and now it was shattering. I couldn’t see anything but a distorted image of myself.

  “They understand.” Parker moved toward me, taking my face in his hands. Using his thumb, he wiped a tear from my cheek. “They get me. They know what it’s like,” he whispered.

  There were times like this, when a simple touch brought me back to the way things were. How gentle he could be when there was nothing but love between us. Now there were wars and years spent apart. There was distance.

  “I got you once. Remember?” I smiled at the memories of us finishing each other’s sentences and spending every second we could together. Now, we passed in own our home, like strangers. I breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of him. He always smelled the same, like Irish Spring. Since I met him, that’s all he’d ever used to shower. It was clean, fresh, and alive. A direct contrast to how I knew he felt. Sometimes, he’d give me snippets of what was going on in his head. That’s what kept me going, those moments of honesty and truth. Deep down, the Parker I married was in there, struggling to break free.

  Parker stepped back, snatched his wallet and keys from the counter, and headed toward the door. He turned back and looked at me, clutching the doorknob in his hand. “That was then. This is now. I’m going to war again because that’s all I am now. A soldier.” The door slammed, shaking the pictures of us that lined the walls.

  Falling to the ground, I cried. This wasn’t what my life was supposed to be. I’d had it all planned, and nowhere along the way did meeting Parker and falling madly in love at only seventeen fall into that plan. But life had a funny way of flipping the script, taking all your plans and throwing them out the window. I crashed and burned long ago. Parker and I both had. We were holding on to this marriage for what? I loved the old him, who left years ago. I’d thought maybe I could bring him back by loving him more, giving him more. I knew that was crazy thinking, yet I couldn’t walk away. I didn’t want to give up on him. He needed someone, and I was all he had.

  The sad thing was, I’d always known I loved him more than he loved me, and that had been okay. But now, something in me wanted more. I wanted to be loved with such a passion that I couldn’t breathe. That when he looked at me, I couldn’t help but smile no matter how shitty my day was. When Parker looked at me now, all I saw was disdain, a man filled with regret. I couldn’t be his regret anymore. I deserved more, and that was absolutely terrifying.

  Chapter Two

  It was a feeling I’d never wish on my worst enemy: heartache. It felt like being dangled over the edge of a cliff and knowing if the person let go, you’d fall to your death. The anticipation, though, the hanging and waiting for them to release you, that was the worst part. The unknown, the fear. That’s what heartache was like. There was never a thought that someone else could come along and make me forget about my love for Parker. I never so much as thought of another guy. I put my all into our marriage, with the hope that maybe the person I loved would realize what he had in front of him.

  Reality was, I was alone.

  Always.

  Despite my anger with Parker for signing up for another deployment, we worked as a team tonight, packing up his duffle bags and footlocker, filling it with his life. Sad thing was, his life fit in those bags and footlockers. It was filled with clothes, army gear, and whatever other items meant something to him. As I folded another green T-shirt, I let the tears fall. Despite everything, I was sad to see him go, but for the first time, I realized I wasn’t his life. Maybe I never had been.

  “Babe.” Parker wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head. “It’s going to be all right.” I looked up at him as I often did, my eyes pleading with him to understand me. Every time I looked at Parker, I was transported back to the first day I saw him at the diner. I held on to that memory. It kept me going; it gave me hope. Looking up at him now, all I saw was loneliness, a lifetime of me hoping he would choose me, settle down and start a family. I would never ask him to give up what he loved for me, though. I couldn’t help but think if he loved me, he would have already chosen me and I wouldn’t even have to ask.

  The doubt crept up like the sly bastard that it was, and I opened my mouth to disagree. His lips crashed down on mine before I could say anything. Sex with Parker was never slow or sensual; it was always filled with need. Hands grasping like it was the last time we’d ever touch, biting and clawing. It was the only time lately I was connected to him, and that’s what I needed now. To feel whatever there was left of him. Of us.

  I grasped his shoulders, my fingers digging in to his hard muscles. Parker lived at the gym, so every inch of him that was once slender had been replaced with solid muscle. He wasn’t overly muscular, but extremely fit. I liked looking down at his massive chest as I rode him till he came. He had become a gorgeous man, matured from the yo
ung boy I fell in love with.

  He threw me down on the bed; his bags fell to the ground, spilling out all our hard work. Neither of us cared, we were too worried about shedding all the clothes that separated us. There was so much more between us than clothes, but here, now, we were all that mattered. It was times like this I was thankful for having an IUD. No need to stop and worry about condoms or anything else.

  With one gyration of his hips, he entered me, causing my head to roll back in pleasure. Parker stretched me out each time, his width and massive length filling me to the brim.

  Each thrust brought me closer and closer to the edge that I’d been dangling over for months. I held on as long as I could, our slick bodies molding together until I couldn’t hang on anymore. Everything crashed around me, like waves I couldn’t control. I screamed in ecstasy before everything hit me.

  I was tired of being strong and pushing back the frustration and fear that my marriage was over. Every day I smiled and tried damn hard to bring things back to where they were. But people changed. Getting married so young had shocked our families. To us, love was love; whether we were eighteen or thirty-five, we just knew that what we had was real. I hadn’t thought about time, though, that fickle little bitch that held everyone hostage and changed whatever she damn well pleased. Time ruined us. Time apart and at war. Distance had always been our enemy.

  Parker slid out of me, and I bit my bottom lip in an effort to not cry out as each memory battered me.

  “Hey. You okay?” With his arms on either side of me, he hovered over me.

  “Please. Don’t go,” I choked out.

  Stay with me. Choose me.

  These were all common feelings I had before he left, wanting to get down on my knees and beg him to stay. Tonight, I saw red. Why was I begging a man who clearly had no concern for me, no thought for how I’d fare if he left again? I sat up, pushing him aside. I was still semidressed, but I didn’t give a flying fuck.

  “Why, Parker? Why did you sign up again? We were supposed to start a family. Settle down and actually start our life together without having to say goodbye all the time.” The tears kept streaming as he stared at me, baffled by my honesty.

  He knelt in front of me, his vulnerability taking me off guard. Now at my eye level, he looked at me, his eyes glistening with tears.

  “Because I don’t deserve this life.” He reached out and caressed my cheek. “I don’t deserve you or this house.” He shook his head as he removed his hand. “I need the adrenaline. The pain of running off into the shit and trying to survive. That’s all I did my entire life before I met you, I survived.”

  So much of his life was just surviving before we met. He was homeless at the age of seventeen, living with whatever family or friends would let him crash for a while. His sister, Emily, was pregnant, using drugs, and a dropout all by the age of sixteen. We were so different, but I thought love had to be enough. Because it always was, wasn’t it?

  I grabbed his shoulders and brought him close to me, holding him tight against my chest. We stayed like that for what seemed like forever, listening to each other breathe, feeling the rise and fall of each other’s chest. I knew now why he left. I also knew that no matter what I did, I couldn’t be what he needed me to be. I didn’t have to just survive growing up. Our differences back then were what drew us together, that despite his shitty childhood he was able to show me such kindness and love. That was the type of man that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. War, though, changed a man. It took a kind soul and ripped him in two and brought him to his knees. It brought up his past, made it his present, and left behind those he loved and those who loved him in the process. Our life, our future, didn’t make sense anymore.

  As Parker kneeled before me, cradled in my arms, I feared for the first time that we might not make it. That we were broken beyond repair.

  Chapter Three

  It was a place I’d been many times before, standing with weeping families as they clung to their soldier for dear life. I learned over the years and multiple deployments that no matter how tightly I clung to Parker, he’d still leave and I’d still be left here alone.

  Parker and I sat side by side on the bleachers, our elbows the only part of us touching. Around us everyone wept and made promises of waiting forever, talking every day on the phone, and writing daily. Little did they know that what awaited them was sleepless nights, staring at their phone and computer waiting for a call, and letters that came less and less as the deployment waned on.

  There were times I didn’t know whether Parker would make it home. I tried to avoid the news stations, but my sister-in-law, Emily, used to make it her mission to text or call me with every mention of an area remotely close to his. I lived in constant fear and agony, a shell of a person, because my heart lived outside of my chest—a part of it anyway. Parker always took it with him, wherever he went.

  “Sergeant?” A young soldier I didn’t recognize stood in front of us at parade rest. “The commander said we’re getting ready to head out.” I took a deep breath as Parker nodded.

  “Well.” Parker stood up and straightened his uniform. “I guess I better go.”

  The familiar lump in my throat formed and the walls seemed to cave in around me. There was something so final about this goodbye. The air held an aura that wasn’t filled with the same familiar heartache. It clung to me, like wet clothes, dragging me down. This was it.

  “Walk me out, Rainey?” He held out his hand for me. “Please, like we used to?” I closed my eyes and thought of the first deployment. How I held his hand until the absolute last minute. How he kissed me with such force and conviction. It was the kiss I held on to for the entire year he was gone. I wanted that again, to have the comfort of his lips against mine and have that memory restored.

  I slipped my hand in his, and we walked in silence. No matter how hard we tried, things would never be the way they used to. When we were young, we had our entire lives ahead of us. Open hearts, free spirits. Now, plagued with war and hate, years apart and life that hadn’t always been kind, that youth, the freedom and hope, washed away long ago. All we were left with was distant memories of times when there was love.

  We stopped in front of the bus that would take Parker and his soldiers to their plane. They were all piling on and waving to their loved ones. Parker and I were among the last ones to say goodbye.

  I watched as a female soldier walked by and eyeballed us. I gave her a small smile, but she scowled and walked away. Parker squeezed my hand and redirected my attention.

  “Will you wait for me?” His eyes were filled with the confusion and uncertainty that I too felt down to my core. He searched my face for my answer, but I didn’t know. Would I wait for him? Could I put the life I’d been promised on hold for another year while he chased whatever it was he needed? I wanted to say yes. That like all the other times, I’d be here. I’d send him packages and be ready for every call and Skype date that he wanted. But something in me this time wasn’t so sure. I loved Parker. He’d made me realize that there was more to life than books, school, and grades. Sometimes though, all I wanted was simple. A life where I didn’t have to worry about whether I’d be a widow before my thirtieth birthday. The price for that life, though, was not having his corny jokes, or him leaving the toilet seat up and his dirty laundry strewn all over the house. I didn’t know if I could live without those little things. I didn’t know if I could live without him.

  “Rainey?” I crashed my lips down on his, willing those feelings of hope and love to swirl around with our interlacing tongues. Butterflies formed in my stomach, flitting with the anticipation of his departure.

  Whistles filled the air, and I blushed at my display of affection. We separated, albeit reluctantly, panting with the passion that was felt in just those few seconds. It wasn’t hope that lingered in my mind, but dread that maybe this was it for us.

  I trembled through the tears that were freely falling. I couldn’t find the words I wanted to
say, because honestly, I didn’t know what I wanted.

  Leaning in, I kissed Parker on the cheek. “Let me know when you make it there safely. I’ll always be there for you.”

  He smiled that crooked grin that sent shivers down my spine even to this day.

  My lips curved up slightly, and Parker chuckled at my attempt to try to remain solemn.

  “You still love me,” he said wistfully.

  I took his face in my hands and stared at him with such intensity that his breath stopped.

  “I’ll always love you, Parker.”

  He leaned in and kissed me softly. “I’ll always love you too.”

  I waved as they drove away. I stood tall, wiping away a few stray tears as everyone else around me wept and huddled together. I was alone, my arms wrapped around myself for whatever comfort I could gather from my own arms.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?” An older woman stood next to me and placed her hand on my shoulder. I smiled big and nodded.

  “It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to cry.” I didn’t know who this woman was, but I was tired of being strong, composed, and thoughtful. She brought me close against her chest, and I bawled like a baby, just like the first time he left. I was brought back to all those years ago when I said goodbye for the first time, and the pain was as real as it was that day. Now, the difference was, I wasn’t sure whether he loved me anymore or if I’d just become a common thing in his life, like getting up and brushing your teeth. This woman thought I was crying for my husband, and I was, but not because he was going off to war; it was deeper than that. I was crying for my marriage. I was crying for a life that never quite became what it should have.