American Wife (16 page)

The funny thing is, Chris still could not have cared less about all the sales. He'd done his assignment, turned it in, and got his grade. Done deal.

As the book sales shot up, more media interviews and book signings were added. Chris was a sensation. But that also meant he had to keep working at it, and traveling.

He wanted me to come on the book tour with him, and so I did. There were plenty of times I wondered why I was even there—I tried to stay in the background. But inevitably he would point me out, and people would come over and thank me as well.

To be honest, most of the time I felt as if I didn't really deserve their thanks. I loved Chris, and that's why I was his wife and full-time mother to our kids. Getting through his deployments was just what I did. I wasn't a hero; he was.

And, as I've said here, and as I relate in
American Sniper,
I had reached a point where I needed him home. That was selfish. A lot of these women had stuck it out for years and years longer than I had. A part of me felt embarrassed that I hadn't stuck it out longer.

I finally realized that the thanks wasn't about me. Even the outpouring of emotion for Chris wasn't just about him. We both came to represent every serviceman and -woman, and every family that supported them. People acknowledged our sacrifices on behalf of all military families.

One thing that was interesting to me: many of the people who thanked me had either had a spouse deployed overseas or been close to someone who had. Maybe it takes going through that experience to really appreciate all it involves.

We traveled through Texas for a couple of weeks, then went to the West Coast. In San Diego, near where we'd lived, a friend came up to me and said she was so glad to see us together.

“We really haven't had much quality time,” I confessed. “Chris is always so busy with the media and everything.”

“Yes, but I can tell he needs you.”

“Really?”

“Whenever you walk away, there's a look on his face. He's looking around, wondering where you are.”

Just being present for him turned out to be more important than I realized. Part of it was the toll the attention and the interviews were taking on Chris—he was reliving Iraq yet again, over and over, several times a day. But I came to realize the need was deeper than that. Having come through so much together, we had each reached the point where our love reinforced and nurtured us. Having me physically close gave him a safe base no matter how unusual or crazy the rest of the world got. With the tumult of demands for interviews and face time and all the rest, he knew he could just reach out and touch me to relax, if only for a moment.

He was my strength at home. Now, on the road, in a slightly different way, I was his.

While as a general rule Chris didn't really care what people thought about either him or the book, there was one major exception: the SEAL community. He was worried that other SEALs would think he was bragging or would get angry with him for sharing his opinions.

The book signing in Coronado put his mind at ease. One of the commanders he had respected greatly showed up with his wife and congratulated him. Just as important, his close friends all responded with enthusiasm. They were proud of him for sharing his story with humility—and especially for talking about Ryan and Marc.

We were in West Texas for a signing one evening in late January when, at the very tail end of the night, a peculiar-looking fellow ambled up to the table where Chris was standing.

“You're Chris Kyle?” said the man.

“Uh, yeah?” answered Chris.

The man handed Chris a piece of paper. “You've been served,” he intoned in an overly dramatic voice.

Jesse Ventura had decided to sue Chris, claiming he had been defamed by his statements. According to Jesse, the incident never happened.

One of the unique aspects of the lawsuit was that it charged Chris with “unjust enrichment.” In layman's terms, as I understood it, this meant that Jesse claimed people bought the book because he talked about decking him.

So all that information about Chris's childhood, his days as a cowboy, his time in Iraq, his medals, the people he saved, the people he couldn't save, his difficulty transitioning home, all the things I said in the book about raising the kids, how hard it was to get on without him . . . all of those things weren't the reason people bought the book? They were interested in the four hundred or so words tucked toward the back about a fight that didn't even name the principal—details that anyone could find for free on the Internet?

Awesome.

Chris wasn't worried about the lawsuit. He believed what he said and had witnesses who remembered the incident as he did.

It was an issue that would smolder for more than two years, and cause a great deal of pain.

POLAND

Jesse aside, most of the people who came to know Chris because of the book were generous when we met them and went out of their way to make Chris and me feel welcome. My uncle arranged for us to have a day together at a simulated shooting range near where he lived on the West Coast. The entire staff turned out to make sure we had fun—and to catch a glimpse of the newly famous hero.

I went through the range with him, and the results were not quite what I expected. I did well, but . . .

To give you some background: The range featured tactical situations where you did more than stand behind a bench and shoot at a paper target and a bale of hay. Videos supplied an immersive experience; it was a little like being part of a video game, except that you moved around and had a full-sized weapon as opposed to a game controller.

The results were recorded, and we reviewed them later on.

Chris's shots were all head and chest.

Mine were all in the crotch.

“Do we need to talk?” asked Chris.

I swear, there was no hostility. I was just aiming low, expecting the recoil to bring the shot up.

Really.

The most exotic place we went on the book tour was Poland. Chris had served with the GROM—Poland's equivalent of SEALs—during the war and they really took a liking to him; The Polish publishers were one of the first foreign companies to pick up the book. They worked closely with Jim on the translation, getting the nuances right, and they wanted to make a really big splash for Chris when the book came out. So they invited him to come over for the publication.

I was excited when he asked if I wanted to come. I was also a little nervous—not only had I never been out of the country before, but I'd never left the kids for so long or been so far away from them. Not that I was worried—they were with their grandparents—but still . . .

Before we left, Chris and I got out some index cards and wrote little notes for the kids. Each note was specific for the kid:

Bubba:

Your smile makes me smile and your laugh makes my heart happy.

You make my life happy! I love you!!!

Love, Mama

Bubba:

I love to see you smile even when you are upset. You are a great kid. I love you so much.

Love, Daddy

Bubba:

I love having fun with you and being with you. I am so blessed and happy you are my son!!!

I love you!!!

Love, Mama

Bubba:

You are the greatest little man in the whole world. I love you so much and miss you.

Love, Daddy

Angel:

I love how kind you are. Your smile and laugh make my days happy. I love you!!!

Love, Mama

Angel:

You have such a tender heart. I love and miss your hugs.

Love, Daddy

Angel:

You are very helpful and loving. I am proud of you and love you with all my heart!!!

Love, Mama

Angel:

You are a kind-hearted girl, and you make me proud every day.

Love Daddy

We later framed them and hung them in their rooms.

The Poles treated us like movie stars. We got a tour of the Polish White House, and we got to spend some time on a shooting range together. It wasn't exactly a vacation, but it was close.

It was interesting to watch Chris during interviews. The Poles asked some harder questions than I expected, but he was always comfortable answering.

Not me. I had to walk out of the room during one interview when the questions seemed to be accusing him of being a murderer—but Chris was always Chris: straight to the point and never really bothered by the attitude of the person interviewing him, good or bad.

BRADLEY COOPER

The success of the book generated a lot of interest from Hollywood. Even before Chris started working with Jim on the book, he had spent some time with a screenwriter from Hollywood, Jason Hall. Jason came out to Texas and spent a few days talking to Chris about a possible script, but he hadn't finished it yet. The book put a new impetus on getting that done.

To make a movie based on a book and someone's life, the movie producers have to obtain the rights. Among the people who asked about them was Bradley Cooper, thanks to Jason, who'd championed Chris and the book. Cooper was already a huge star, one who had a reputation for taking big risks and trying a variety of roles (including one in the TV series
Alias
—the connection I promised earlier).

None of that was important to Chris. If there was a movie, he wanted the actor who portrayed him to be a
true
American. He couldn't stand actors who would make unpatriotic statements against the war and then turn around and do war films. He'd told Jim he didn't want a hypocrite playing him. I think he would have chosen not to let a movie be done rather than agree to let people proceed with it whom he didn't consider patriotic.

And so for Chris, the most impressive thing about Bradley Cooper was not his acting ability or the enormous research he put into his roles, but the work he'd done helping veterans. He was a supporter of Got Your 6, an organization that helps veterans reintegrate into family life and their communities. He had also done some USO tours. I couldn't imagine a better match.

Still, Chris didn't just say okay. He talked to Bradley before deciding to let him option the book and his life rights.

I remember Chris coming out of his home office after the final conversation. He was smiling; Bradley had a great sense of humor, which was probably the first thing they bonded over.

“How'd it go?” I asked.

“Went good. I told him, ‘My only concern with you, Bradley—I might have to tie you up with a rope and pull you behind my truck to knock some of the pretty off you.' ”

Bradley laughed. Still, he did just about everything short of that to prepare for the movie. He grew a beard, studied photos and videos, and worked out like a madman, getting himself into the proper shape to play a SEAL in the movie.

Many, many things had to be done before the movie actually was made. The most important was finding a director.

We had no say in that, but it was fun to fantasize. One night when we were in the kitchen, I looked over at Chris and asked, “Who would you want directing the movie?”

“I don't know.” He shrugged.

“Wouldn't Clint Eastwood be fantastic?”

“Hell, yes,” he said.

In truth, everything was fantasy: many books are optioned but few become movies, so we couldn't even be sure there would be a movie. Given that we had no control over it, we turned our attention to other things.

TV SHOW

That spring, some television producers approached Chris through his agents and asked if he'd be interested in starring in a show called
Stars Earn Stripes
. Produced by Mark Burnett, the show paired celebrities with former military and law enforcement professionals in a range of missions from airborne drops to shootouts. Chris was paired with Dean Cain, aka “Superman.”

Before going on set in California, the producers had Chris fill out a form that, among other things, listed some of his special qualifications. His answer:
Shooting, shit talking, and beer drinking.

Chris thought the show would help advertise some of the different things that military people were trained in. I think the final product veered a little too heavily toward special effects, smoke and mirrors, and the normal show business trappings for his taste—it was fun, certainly, but not very educational. The training that the celebrities had to do generally didn't make it to the actual show; missing that may have left viewers with the wrong idea that what they were doing was a lot easier than it was.

Chris's favorite part of the project may have been the remote location—he didn't have cell reception through most of the training and shooting sessions, so no one could bother him for nearly a month. That was even better than a vacation for him.

The day the show premiered, a friend hosted a little party to celebrate back in Dallas. Someone came up with the idea of making T-shirts; it was very last minute, so we all grabbed some Magic Markers and white T-shirts and scrawled “Team Kyle” on them. Chris loved it, even if he did think it was a bit much.

Dean won four out of the six competitions, though in the finale he lost to WWE Divas Champion Eva Torres.

The TV experience was novel, but Chris was starting to accept the fact that he was a celebrity. If it had happened twelve months before, it might have seemed surreal. Now it was just the way things were.

One of the great things that Chris taught me was not to get crazy about how things looked—specifically about how the house looked when people came over. I'd grown up in a home where nothing was out of place when company came over, and I always obsessed if we were having company. This meant running around like crazy straightening the house, vacuuming, mopping, cleaning.

Chris would look at my frenzy and ask, “These people are our friends, right?”