The Grunt (9 page)
“Hi,” Courtney said, walking out of the kitchen.
“Hi,” Brett said, forgetting his train of thought. She looked amazing in her jeans and V-neck T-shirt that showed off her ample cleavage. With a smile, she removed the mitten from her hand. “How was work?” Her hazel eyes beamed at him.
“It was good…to be back,” he said with a smirk. There was no way he was going to mess up the evening by arguing over Courtney’s mother. “You cooked again?” he asked, smelling the food.
“I figured that you’d be hungry,” she said as Cameron walked over to her. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t,” he said, dropping his bag. He could get used to this real quick.
“Great. Dinner will be ready in about five minutes.” She turned back around and headed back into the kitchen.
“I’ll go wash up,” Brett said quickly.
***
The hot water felt good against his skin. Leaning against the tile, Brett rested his head down in the stream and let it run down his back. Steam fogged up the bathroom and created a haze around him. Relaxed, he washed his hair and released the tension from his body.
He could let his guard down finally. It was a force of habit to be rigid – something he tried hard to leave at work but sometimes failed to do. At the base, his guard had to be up. He had to pay very close attention to detail, focus, train hard and worry about his squad.
Recon was not an easy job. It required extreme discipline, die-hard dedication and the ability to go numb when necessary.
The problem was remembering when to turn the grunt on and when to turn him off. Often Brett felt like he was in limbo, hanging somewhere in between the two men he was forced to be on a daily basis. With Amy, it was even harder to handle. While she had never been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder, she had all the symptoms with her manic highs and lows that went on for days at a time. The combination of his profession and her impatience made for a bad marriage all around.
But Brett couldn’t think about that now. There was food waiting for him downstairs, prepared by a beautiful woman who was taking good care of his son. He didn’t have to argue about money or bills or men. He didn’t have to have his guard up, and he didn’t have to be someone else.
Five minutes later, Brett was sitting at the table with Cameron and Courtney laughing so hard until his eyes were watering. Evidently, she had taken Cameron out to catch a few waves and during the process, he had lost his trunks. As Courtney retold the event, Cameron turned bright red and couldn’t stop blushing. But he was also not deterred. He liked the beach and swimming off shore so much until he wanted to go back tomorrow.
“Oh, that reminds me,” Courtney said, going to her backpack. “We went and had our shots today.”
Cameron frowned at the mention of it. “It hurt really bad, daddy,” he whispered to his father.
Coming back to the table, Courtney passed Brett the paper. “I filled out the forms for pre-school and got him registered, but I wanted you to look over it and make sure that I listed everything correctly, especially emergency contact information outside of myself.”
“Thanks,” Brett said, taking the paperwork. Licking his fingers, he looked up and caught Courtney giving him an admonishing glare about his bad table manners. “Give me a break,” he said playfully as he flipped through the papers. “Everything looks fine with the exception of the blood type. It says AB negative. This is wrong - impossible actually because I’m O positive and so was Amy.” He looked at Cameron as he made the accidental slip up of mentioning her name.
“Oh, sorry. I took it from his physical. They have it listed on his paperwork,” Courtney said, putting more salmon on Brett’s plate.
“What?” Brett turned to Cameron’s physical paperwork and read it carefully. “Well, this can’t be right,” he said under his breath.
“What? Did I do something wrong?” Courtney asked as she poured Cameron some more juice.
“No.” Brett frowned and stood up from the table. This had been the first time in Cameron’s short life that someone other than Amy had taken him to the doctor. She was always adamant about doing so alone. With the paperwork still in his hand, he headed out of the kitchen. “I’ll be right back,” he said in a daze.
Courtney looked over at Cameron and raised her brow, but did not give much thought to him stepping away. Maybe the food was messing with his stomach. She had made a spicy pineapple chutney topping to go with dinner.
Brett went to their cabinet in the den and dug through Cameron’s files. Pulling the physical from his 12-month checkup, he looked at the blood type. AB Negative. Going to his birth records, he thumbed through the paperwork to find his blood type. AB Negative.
“How could I be so fucking stupid?!” Brett screamed as he stood up. Kicking the desk, the chair fell over, and he had to yank his foot out of the drywall. Courtney heard his outburst and looked down at Cameron, who immediately tried to get up and run to him.
“No,” Courtney said, grabbing Cameron by his little arm.
“But what’s wrong with daddy?” Cameron asked alarmed. He looked back towards the door, trying to pry away.
Courtney recalled their conversation and suddenly it hit her. “Oh my God,” she said, putting her hand to her mouth. Looking over at the boy, she rubbed through his hair and tried to smile. “Are you finished eating?”
“Yes,” Cameron answered.
“Good. I’m going to take you up to your room and get you ready for bed. It’s late now.”
“But I want to say goodnight to Daddy,” Cameron pleaded.
“Your father needs a minute,” Courtney said with a heave. Picking him up in her loving embrace to ensure he didn’t run into the den and see his father mourning another unveiled truth, she passed by the room quickly.
After his bath, Courtney stayed with Cameron until he fell asleep. Then, when she was certain that he wouldn’t get up again, she headed downstairs. Normally, something in her told her what to do, how to soothe a person when they were overwhelmed, but this time, considering Brett’s already misfortunate situation, she was speechless.
Inching past the door, she looked in the den and saw him standing at the window looking out at the moon.
“Brett,” she said in a near whisper.
He turned around slowly, his eyes swollen from tears. “I’m embarrassed that you have to see me like this,” he said, shaking his head.
Courtney went inside and closed the door. “You don’t have to be embarrassed in front of me.”
“I just don’t know how I could be so stupid. I mean, how could I not see this when it was right in front of my face? I always thought he looked more like her than me, but I never thought that he wasn’t mine.” Tears ran down his face again.
“He
is
yours,” Courtney said, walking up to him. Carefully, she put her hands on his back. “You’re the only thing that he’s ever known, and you’re the only one that he’s got.”
Brett swallowed hard. “What was so wrong with me that she couldn’t just love me?” he asked angrily as he turned and looked at her. His icy blue eyes burned through to her core.
Courtney’s heart broke for him. “Some people never love anyone but themselves. It’s not your fault. You tried to be a good husband and a good father.” She took his large hand and threaded it through her own. “Come sit down. And I’ll go and fix you some tea. It will calm you down and allow you to rest. You have to get up early in the morning and it’s getting late.”
With a blank stare, he followed her to the sofa and sat down. Courtney looked around the room and bit her lip. While the place was nice for sitting and reading or watching television, it was not a bedroom. And in the state that he was in, he really needed to rest comfortably.
“Why don’t you sleep in the guest room or in my room, and I’ll sleep down here tonight. It may help with your nightmares,” she pleaded.
Brett wiped his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. A major headache was looming. “I’ll be fine,” he said, closing his eyes.
“Are you sure?” she asked concerned.
He shook his head. “Yeah.”
She couldn’t help but think back to his previous statement.
His life was a comedy of errors
. But why? He was strong, dependable, brave…and misfortunate.
“I’ll be right back. I’m going to fix your tea,” she said unsure if she should leave him alone.
Brett was too consumed by his thoughts to hear her. With dried tears staining his face, he sat on the end of the sofa staring at the television.
Courtney rushed into the kitchen and quickly put on a kettle. Within minutes, she had fixed him a warm cup of tea and returned to his side.
Kneeling in front of him, she passed him the little white tea cup and brushed a hand over his face. Their gazes locked as her thumb stroked over his flesh.
Brett took the cup thankfully and set it beside him. Too shook up to say a word, he sat brooding and looking at the ground.
Courtney took the remote and turned off the television, then rose up from her position. Smoothing her hands over her jeans, she looked over at the door.
“I’ll just leave you here to…think,” she said, looking at the crown of his head. “I’m so sorry, Brett.” She was lost. What more could she do for him?
Brett slowly looked up at her and nodded. “Thanks,” he said solemnly. “I appreciate it.” His voice was hard now.
Courtney smiled, then turned and walked out of the door, turning off the light as she left.
In the silence and darkness of the den, Brett pulled off his shirt and jeans and laid down on the couch in his boxer shorts. With one hand cocked up behind him, he looked at the ceiling fan and with the other hand, he ran his thumb over the bottom of his wedding ring. Why did he even have this damn thing on anymore? Snatching it off, he threw it across the room.
He truly felt like acting out - like tearing the walls down around him - but he was drained of even the energy to do that. All he knew was that the boy he had loved since the first day that he had laid eyes on him was not his; the woman he had loved unconditionally was never his, and the life that he had created around him was not real. The most painful part of the equation was that he had been too blind
or too stupid
to notice or suspect anything, which made him feel that he was to blame.
Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, then I must be an fucking retard
, he thought to himself.
Cameron crossed his mind - his delicate little features seared into his brain forever. Brett had always thought that the boy had more characteristics from Amy’s parents, who were both brunettes. And while the boy didn’t look like him, he had loved him so much until he had never allowed a single thought to cross his mind about Cameron not being his.
Plus, Brett’s mother had died suddenly from a heart attack and was not there to tell him her thoughts on the matter. But his mom was always a very kind and tactful woman, unlike Amy. So unless there was
undeniabl
e proof that Cameron was not his, she would have never said anything anyway.
Conversely, he did love the boy, and there was no doubt about that. And Courtney was right. All they had was each other now.
“What kind of woman does this shit?” he asked aloud. The dark room did not respond. It could not. But being left in silence made him angrier by the moment. Hurt started to shield itself with the fuel of revenge. But who could he lash out at? Who was left to carry the burden with him?
Brett snickered to himself when he thought of Amy going down in flames. He imagined her on the plane headed to Japan with her I-pod in her ears, listening to Clint Black and making plans to start a new life with
Jermaine
when suddenly the pilot came over the intercom and told them to kiss their asses goodbye. He could see her looking around all scared and praying that she would be the only survivor with no thought about Cameron or the family that she left behind. He had even imagined that she might have even prayed to God for his help. But He wouldn’t help her.
Reap what you sow and all that
. He knew it was wrong to think in such a way, but he didn’t care at the moment. It was the only thought that seemed to soothe him as he began to drift off in troubled sleep.
Closing his eyes, he felt his breaths slow and his mind stop racing. Maybe he would get some rest after all.
***
At exactly two o’clock in the morning, Brett’s brilliant blue eyes flashed open with a fright. Sitting up, he wiped his face of the sweat pouring down it and looked around frantically. Another devilish nightmare. This time in his dream, he was in an ambush with his late friend and fallen Marine, Sergeant Allen. He could even feel the sand and heat on his skin and hear the snap of AK-47 bullets whiz past him as the green chasers continued to fly. The taste of blood was in his mouth from where he had bit down too hard on his lip and his trigger finger was sore from gripping his imaginary weapon. The mind was a powerful thing, and in his case, sometimes a powerful enemy.
He looked down at his hands, shaking and clammy and slowed his breathing. Wanting a drink, he stood up and wondered out into the dark hall towards the kitchen. He’d sneak a beer before four and drink down a few quarts of water in the morning just to take the edge off. Hopefully, it wouldn’t affect the company run later that day.
As he entered the spotless kitchen that smelled of bleach and Pine Sol, he saw Courtney sitting at the table reading her textbook under a small lamp. Pausing, he flipped on the light and looked her way.
“What are you doing up?” he asked gruffly.
Courtney looked up and put down her highlighter. “Couldn’t sleep. I figured I’d get some work done.” She watched him make his way to the refrigerator. Bending over as he opened it, he looked inside and grabbed a beer.
“I take it the tea didn’t help,” she said, turning off her lamp.
“Sorry. I didn’t even try it,” he said, popping the top to a chilled Miller Lite. He took a sip and sluggishly made his way back to the entryway.
Courtney opened her mouth and then quickly closed it shut. She didn’t want to pry. Sticking her nose into other people’s affairs had been one of her downfalls for many years. It was part of her
Save the World Syndrome
.
Nevertheless, Brett could feel her stare on his back. He turned slowly and titled his head.
“Say it,” he said, propping his bare foot up on the wall. He had been around women long enough to know when they had something on their mind. Rubbing a hand down his jaw, he scratched the stubble under his hand.
Courtney closed her book and sighed. “This isn’t your fault.”
“You sound like that movie,
Good Will Hunting
. Have you seen it?”
Courtney knew his guard was up. “I’m serious.”
Brett sighed. “I could tell myself that it isn’t my fault, but I’d be lying. And I fucking hate liars.” He clenched his jaw tight, and he could tell that his harsh language didn’t sit well with her. So, he tried to speak softer for her sake. “You’re a good girl, Cort. I don’t expect you to understand.”
“What is there not to understand? You were betrayed. It must hurt.” She looked down at the table. “It must tear you apart, but it always helps to have someone tell you the truth. And the truth is that you’re a good, decent man.” She looked back up at him, her eyes were full of sincerity. “And it’s not your fault.”
Brett felt uncomfortable. He put his foot down and looked up at the ceiling. The bottle of beer was clenched in his hand. Shaking his head, he smiled despite himself. “I loved her.”
“I know,” Courtney said in a soft, loving voice.
“But she was never good to me. Nothing I ever did was good enough.”
Courtney thought of her father. “Believe me. I understand.”
“Do you?” he asked quickly. He stared at her. “How do
you
understand?”
“My father,” she muttered. “He has never been happy with one decision that I have made by myself in my entire life. Just once, I wish he would be proud of me, you know.” Her voice trailed off, but she kept her eyes on him even though it was hard to look someone in the eye and admit such a thing.
Brett could see the pain in her eyes, and even in his own sorrow, he felt pity for her. “Who couldn’t be proud of you?” he asked sincerely. “Look at you. You’re amazing. I knew it the first time I laid eyes on you. Beautiful. Soft. Honest.” His voice grew husky. “You’re everything a man could ask for and more.” His eyes were deadlocked on her own. She couldn’t turn away if she wanted to now.
Courtney was unnerved. Her mouth parted in surprise; her heart skipped a beat and butterflies erupted. “It’s funny that you can see all of that in me and not see that we have
all of that
in common.”
“I don’t’ know about the beautiful and soft part.” Brett smirked and was about to take another sip of his beer but paused. His face hardened. “I have nightmares. I have…flashbacks. It’s hard for me to adjust. Being around people in large crowds or being around people that I don’t know puts me on edge. Sometimes, I drink too much, and I just want to be alone. That can go on for days…weeks. I assume that my
anti-social
behavior had a lot to do with Amy’s growing unhappiness in our relationship. But I couldn’t help it,” he said deflated. “People expect that just because you swear in, volunteer, and decide to stand a post that you’re also supposed to be able to face what the consequences are for doing so without flinching. You’re supposed to have this concrete resolution. But no one is ready for what they see over there.”
Courtney listened quietly. She could feel his loneliness and vulnerability. “PTSD doesn’t go away overnight. In fact, I’m not sure that it ever goes away, but with treatment…”
He interrupted her. “Treatment would end my career, and I’ve worked too hard to end up on 100% disability with no other skill but killing on my resume. Plus, I’m trying to be a father to a child that isn’t mine…”
“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. He
is
yours,” she said defensively of Cameron. She frowned and leaned forward in her chair. Her gold necklace gleamed in the dull light. “Where would he be without you? He has no one else. Don’t
ever
let him hear you say that. It would kill him.” Her eyes watered. “And hasn’t he been through enough?”
Brett was moved by her protection over his son, and he knew that she was right. “I just had to say it once. I had to hear myself say it to know it. Just once,” he said with tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to…” He could feel his mouth quiver. “I don’t want to walk around like this didn’t happen too. Something has to be real, even if it’s really fucked up.”
Courtney stood up from her seat and walked over to him. Opening her arms, she felt him grab her tightly and bury his head into her neck. He wouldn’t cry. He was too stubborn for that, but he did empty himself emotionally into her.
Her arms wrapped around him. In a soft voice, she whispered, “It’s okay. I’m here for you.” A sad smile curled her lips.
Brett clenched his eyes tight and held her close to him. The warmth of her body radiated like pure sunlight onto his skin. The fresh, clean smell of her intoxicated him. Swiftly, his sorrow turned into gut-wrenching need.
Brushing his hand through her hair, he looked into her eyes and saw a vulnerability that made him suddenly fiercely possessive. A growl escaped him. Agog, he moved his large hand to her neck. The pulse of her heart pounded through his fingertips. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her neck first then her chin and finally he kissed her pouty, full lips. Tasting the sweet nectar in her mouth again sent chills down his spine and without intending to, he picked her up and pinned her against the wall.
