Resilient Love (Navy Love Series Book 3) (4 page)

Jo

I’m going home for another visit with my mom next week, and I think talking with her will help even more.

My mom is great; the greatest mother ever, but I’m a little biased. She’s always been more a friend and confidante to me since I reached adulthood. I can’t think of a single topic that I shied away from telling her.

I grew up in a small town right outside of Los Angeles, in a predominantly Latino community with my parents and two older brothers.

My dad passed away when I was thirteen from a heart condition. So my brothers Miguel and Joseph took over the protective father figure role for me.

I’ve lost count of the number of times they’ve threatened bodily harm to boyfriends. There’s not a doubt in my mind that they would go ballistic if they heard details of the last time J.C. and I spoke.

Mom has stage four melanoma, a very aggressive form of skin cancer. She tried to not tell any of us what was going on and kept it a secret for as long as she could. However, we all became suspicious of her constant doctor appointments and the copious amounts of medications she began taking.

Since Dad’s passing, she’s always been everything to my brothers and me. She was the provider and the nurturer, the friend and confidante, the soccer coach and the team mom; I think she was afraid to let us down, which is why she tried to not tell us. However, my brothers immediately dove in to help in any way they were needed.

Miguel lives a few blocks away with his wife and two young sons. Joseph was living in an apartment across town but decided to move back home to keep Mom from being alone.

Although my mom and brothers have tried telling me not to worry about not being around, I can’t help but feel like a terrible daughter. I knew she was sick and yet, I allowed myself to be fooled by her fake upbeat voice when we spoke on the phone.

Yes, my career in the Navy is important to me, but the military is also supportive of its member's families. Had I requested time off, my Chain of Command would have done their best to give it to me. The same way my Chief insured that I didn’t go on Tessa’s last deployment with her due to my mom’s health.

As much as I’d like to place blame on the Navy, I know that it isn’t possible. I’m the one who hasn’t spoken up and requested leave. Instead of being there for my ill mother, I’ve been in denial that she is dying.

Walking out of the Chaplain’s office, I feel the same as I do every week after one of our visits; relieved and hopeful.

I started seeing the Chaplain a week after Reed and Miller showed up at my apartment. Although I wasn’t expecting them, I truly believe I was at the beginning of a downward spiral. Had they not stepped in, I don’t know that I would have been able to pull myself out.

I knew I was in a deep depression from the miscarriage; I still struggle with the fact that I didn’t cause it. However, talking to my Chaplain has helped ease some of the guilt I’ve carried around for the past four months since losing the baby.

The Chaplain is the only one in the Navy who isn’t required to report anything said in confidence to the Chain of Command. Not that I was suicidal from the incident or anything like that, I just had a lot of guilt for losing the baby and shame for not being there for my mom lately. It seems her cancer is worsening; she’s stopped responding to treatments.

I’d lost my way in everything for a little while. I hid from my friends, stopped being a good sailor at work, and locked myself away from the outside world to wallow in my self-pity.

I still have days where I don’t care to be around anyone or to do anything. And to say my friendships have gone back to normal would be a complete lie. I still avoid the group of friends I consider to be family now.

It’s too hard to be around them still. I know no one would blame me for what happened, but I can’t handle seeing their faces filled with pity.

The only ones I talk to anymore are Tegan and Marshall. She refuses to leave me alone, as many times as I’ve blown her off or purposefully neglected our friendship.

One night after I had one too many drinks at my apartment alone, she showed up and refused to leave. She took care of me while I vomited up countless beers and somewhere in the process I ended up confessing everything to her. The fling, the miscarriage, the fight—all of it.

She called Reed immediately and told him she was staying the night with me for some much needed girl time. As soon as she hung up she swore herself to secrecy.

Tegan has been somewhat of a Godsend. I know Tess is still there for me if I need her, but I’ve been ashamed of what happened to me and slightly jealous that she has two beautiful babies of her own. I know her hands are full and feel like it would be an inconvenience if I dump all of my issues on her.

There are days I haven’t wanted to get out of bed. That actually sums up most days for me. If it’s not my own secret issues nagging at me, it’s feeling guilty for not being home in California with my mother that is at the forefront of my head.

My entire world has been knocked off its axis these last few months.

Since the beginning of our sessions, I’ve learned to let go of some of the guilt I’ve been carrying and the shame I felt over the miscarriage. I now understand that it wasn’t me who caused it to happen; unfortunately, it wasn’t the right time for me to have a child.

I come from a very Catholic family and I grew up in the church, however, that has strayed since I enlisted in the Navy. I can’t remember the last time I went to Mass. The Chaplain takes my beliefs into account before giving any advice to me.

It gives me a sense of going to confession, but without that guilt feeling for my lack of church attendance. I leave each time with a feeling of relief and the hope that I’m one step closer to being my old self again.

The first couple of sessions were a bit awkward, but once all of my secrets were out, I felt as though a veil had been lifted. Now, I enjoy our meetings.

Chaplain Christopher Ashby is very easy going and easy to talk to. He’s an unbiased opinion to discuss things with.

He’s encouraged me to go back to church and seek counseling for the grief I feel over my mom’s illness. He’s also advised me of my available options for leave.

Along with having Tegan, I’ve also been hanging out with Miller more. Her experiences with her own miscarriages have helped me establish that I’m not crazy for all of the unexplainable emotions I’ve felt. We’ve discussed both mine and hers. That woman is brave; I don’t know how she was able to move on after having two of her own.

My mom’s illness and the awful way things ended with J.C. are the two things that seem to still weigh heavy on my heart.

Shaking the depressing thoughts from my mind, I pull into the parking lot of my squadron and head inside. I don’t have time to wallow in my self-pity. The decision to stay and not return home is something I must come to terms with all on my own. It’s something I’m slowly working through with Chaplain Ashby. And although it’s difficult, I am starting to address it.

The first thing I do after stepping into the shop, is sit at one of the open computers and pull up my military email account. Any important notifications are sent through the secured email system. It's also a way to keep in touch with other sailors I've met during my time in the Navy.

Miller was sent out two weeks ago on another rotating deployment; this time she’s in Florida for six weeks. It isn't long, but she’s become my support system in the past few months. She's one of the only ones who I've been able to be completely open and honest with.

That burden is another issue I've discussed with my chaplain; the need to explain to my friends what I've gone through the past few months is overwhelming.

So overwhelming, in fact, that every time I'm around them, I want to blurt it out. But I know that's uncouth and not at all the correct way to handle it. Miller, being the amazingly supportive friend she's been, volunteered to sit with me when I told everyone. While I appreciate it, it hurts that the father of my lost baby wouldn’t be by my side, but instead a friend of ours.

I hate that J.C. and I are still not speaking. This is the first deployment either of us have been on without the other constantly checking in. It's something all of us have done —Tess, Reed, Marsh, J.C. and myself—for the past four years or at least since the deployments started.

The sentimental side of me couldn't pass up the opportunity to send some of his favorite snacks to him when the chance came up a couple weeks ago. Luckily, I was able to meet up with Tegan and hand off the Moon Pies and RC Cola to her to ensure it landed in the community care package.

I didn't leave a note or anything else. I'm honestly not sure he’ll know they were from me, but I hope he does. The snacks weren't meant for anything more than a simple way of saying I'm thinking of you.

Jared Collins has consumed my heart, body, and soul for the past year and even though I understand him being upset and us not speaking right now, I don't ever want him to think I don't care.

Before we were lovers, we were friends. I'd be happy to have even that relationship back. So maybe in a weird sense, the snacks were like an olive branch. A small step in the right direction to get us back on track.

After typing a quick email back to Miller letting her know how my session with the Chaplain went, I pull up a blank email and type out a short paragraph to J.C.

J.C.

I understand if you still don't want to speak to me, but the silence between us is killing me. I just want you to know that I miss you and I'm thinking of you. And when you get home, I'd love it if we could sit down together and talk. I know there are many things that were left unsaid and many careless words tossed around the last time we spoke.

Thinking of you,

Jo

My finger hovers over the send button, terrified to click it and allow J.C., the man that has the potential to shatter my fragile heart all over again, the opportunity to see through the cracks in my armor.

The fear of rejection and heartbreak is great when it comes to J.C. Our friendship has always been intense; flirty and fun, yes, but intense none the less. When J.C. and I fought, we fought hard, when we laughed we did so until both of us would have tears, and the few times we cried together, the other always had a strong supportive shoulder to lean on.

I miss the laughter, the fighting and, most importantly, that shoulder. However, I can't allow myself to be the victim any longer. I refuse to be a weak individual. I know I need J.C. in my life, but a short email isn't the way to salvage our now damaged friendship. That is going to take a lot of time, work, and forgiveness.

With a sigh, I scoot the mouse over to the small X in the top left corner of the screen and click, deleting the email and any hopes for starting over, and make my way out to the flight deck to help with incoming helicopters.

JC

Waiting to hear back from Reed has been torturous. It didn’t help that we went on ‘River City’ again two days after I emailed him.

A month. It took thirty, dreaded, long, exhausting days before I was able to check my email again. I swear I almost shouted in relief when I saw the response from Reed. Thankfully, I didn’t do that. It would have made for some awkward glances.

It wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear.

JC-

She’s not doing good, man. We’ve tried talking to her and we’re finally getting little glimpses of the old Jo but she’s still got a long way to go before she’s back to her old self.

Her mom’s cancer isn’t helping anything either. She isn’t doing well and Jo is taking it hard.

I don’t know for sure. She won’t talk to me and Tegan is tight lipped about it, I’m not sure if she knows anything or not. You know how they have all that girl code shit. But she seems like she’s carrying around enough guilt to fill a fuckin’ carrier.

What the fuck happened between the two of you? Things haven’t been right with her since you and her stopped talking and fucking.

I’ll keep you posted on her if you want, but for fuck’s sake, you need to fix this shit when you get back.