Unbroken (9 page)

I
t’s amazing
how much can change in an hour. One hour ago, I was alone and miserable, playing a stupid game on my phone as I hid from my father’s wedding reception. Now, I’m gazing into Milly’s gorgeous eyes, warm and sated and perfect. Her dress is still askew, with her breasts hanging out over the top, and the bottom of her dress is pushed up over her waist, revealing the wet, twisted lace of her little black panties.

Everything is perfect.

All too soon, however, Milly grows self-conscious. I watch her pull herself together, sadly tucking myself back in my pants. We get our clothes back in order, but there is absolutely no hiding what we’ve done. Milly’s hair is crazy and matted. Her pale flesh is flushed, and I’ve sucked bruises into her neck and cleavage.

“Um…” I say, “If I look half as bad as you do, there’s no way we can go back down there.”

She purses her lips, sitting back on the bed, deep in thought.

“Come home with me,” she says after a minute.

“What?”

“Come home with me. Now. We can sneak out the back and make a run for the parking lot, hoping no one sees us. It’s already getting dark.”

I think about this for a moment. My father has been preoccupied all evening. It’s his wedding reception. It shouldn’t matter to him if I duck out early. He shouldn’t even notice. But I know he will. He’ll look for me at the last moment, just to make sure I’ve stayed. Yet Milly’s rebellion is contagious, as is her smile. And I’m loose and confident and feeling like I’m on top of the world at the moment, so I just nod and agree.

“Alright,” I say. “Lets do it!”

I
t takes
us forever to get back into the city. Even though we left the party early, long before the rush, the mansion is located down a long twisty road and isn’t vacated easily. Then we have an hour-long drive back to D.C. Neither of us says much. I’m calm and happy in a way I haven’t been in weeks—maybe even months.

I still feel slightly guilty. I can’t shut off the little voice inside me that says I don’t deserve this—that I don’t deserve Milly. The voice tells me that I will undoubtedly fuck things up.

I choose to ignore this voice, focusing instead on Milly. Her hair is illuminated in the setting sun. She bites her tongue in concentration sometimes when she drives. Every once in a while, she turns and smiles at me. When she does, my stomach summersaults, and I feel like everything is right in the world.

We’re both a little more clear-headed by the time we make it back to her apartment. We curl up on her sofa and stare at each other.

“So,” Milly starts after a while. “How are you, really?”

“Right now?” I ask. “I’m perfect.”

This is rewarded with a smile, and Milly brings a hand up to run through my hair. I moan in pleasure and collapse against her, letting my head fall into her lap.

“And
not
right now?” she asks? “How are you in general.”

“I don’t know,” I reply truthfully.

“That’s honest, I guess,” she says with a sigh, stroking my hair. “Why aren’t you sleeping? Is it just the nightmares?”

“I’m having trouble falling sleep,” I admit. “I think it’s anxiety. So I have trouble falling asleep, and then the nightmares always wake me up after a few hours.”

“Anxiety about what, do you think?” she asks quietly.

“Everything,” I say with a laugh.

“Be specific,” she encourages. “Are you worried you’re not going to recover fast enough to stay in the military?”

“Yeah. I mean, more at first then now. Now it looks like I’ll be able to. But…”

“But what?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I want to return to the service. I do. But I also don’t. I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.”

“It does make sense,” she says. “You’re allowed to have two conflicting emotions about the same thing.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I say.

“Emotions often don’t,” she responds. “Why are you anxious about going back to the Marines?”

“I just… after what happened. The idea of going back… idea of it happening again… it makes me sick. It makes me panicky.”

“The nightmares… are they about what happened before?”

“More or less,” I tell her. “Usually not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“A lot of the time, in my dreams…” I pause, feeling silly admitting this to her.

“Yeah?” she urges.

“A lot of the times, there’s a dragon. It’s crazy, I know. But I read a lot of fantasy novels as a kid. So sometimes, instead of what actually happened, we’re being attacked by dragons in my dreams, and I can’t fight. I can’t fight…” my voice breaks off.

“It’s okay,” she says, still stroking my hair. She waits for me to calm down, then continues. “And what actually happened?”

I cringe. I’d been waiting for this question. I open my mouth to tell her, but nothing comes out. I can’t tell her. I can’t imagine her eyes. The pity. The blame. She’d never be able to look at me the same again.

“I can’t,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says, reaching out and taking my hand. “Maybe some other time.”

“Maybe some other time,” I repeat, though I know it’s not true. I’ll never be able to tell her.

“Why do you want to stay in the Marines?” she asks. I think about the answer for a long time.

“Because that’s who I am. It’s what I do,” I reply finally. “I don’t know what else I would do. I mean, I’ve never wanted anything else. I’ve never
been
anyone else.”

“You’re more than a Marine,” she says.

I snort in response.

She continues. “You haven’t been a Marine since I’ve known you, and I think you’re amazing.”

I smile at her words, thinking about what she says. I
haven’t
been a Marine since I’ve known her. I haven’t been a Marine in weeks. So what have I been? What do I have to offer, if not that? I don’t have anything to offer Milly, but she doesn’t seem to care. I doubt the rest of the world will be that forgiving.

“You went to US Naval Academy, right?” she asks, interrupting my train of thought.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“What did you study?” she asked.

“Mechanical engineering,” I reply. “In Iraq, I disabled IEDs mostly, and worked with other electronics.”

“You could do that here, you know, outside of the military.”

“Disable IEDs?” I ask skeptically.

“No,” she says with a giggle. “Mechanical engineering. I’m sure there are other ways to utilize that degree. It’s a common area of study.”

I’m silent for a long time, thinking about this. At USNA, college had been a means to an end—a way to become an officer. My father had gone to US Naval Academy, and my grandfather before him. I had chosen the degree I did because I felt it would be useful in the field. I had never considered any civilian applications for it. Still, active duty is what I’ve always wanted to do with my life.

“Cameron.” Milly’s voice cuts through the silence. “I think you need help with your recovery, and your father is not giving you what you need. He’s always busy, and when he’s not—he’s with my mother. He’ll probably move in with her permanently, now that they’re married. I’m worried about you all alone in that apartment.” She takes a deep breath. “I think you should stay with me for a few weeks, until you’re better. Until you’re ready do go back to active duty.”

I pull my head from her lap and sit up. I meet her eyes questioningly, as she sheepishly looks away.

“It’ll be temporary,” Milly continues. “I just feel like… I don’t think living alone is the best way for you to be right now. I think you’d benefit from living here, with me, where I can help you.”

“You want me to move in with you?” I ask, still trying to wrap my head around it.

“Why not?” she asks shyly. “I mean, if you want to.”

I nod thoughtfully. The offer does sound tempting. I’d get to sleep next to Milly every night—at least when I
can
sleep. That thought, actually, turns my stomach.

“I have nightmares,” I tell her. “I’d wake you up.”

“I don’t care,” she says. “It may even help… staying here. You didn’t wake me up last time you stayed over. Not until the very morning, when it was time to get up anyway.”

“No,” I say with a smile. “I didn’t.”

I see a smile spreading across her face. “So you’ll do it then?”

“Yes, I think so,” I nod.

“Awesome,” she replies, springing up from the sofa. “We can go get your stuff tomorrow. But, for tonight, I think I have an extra tooth brush in the bathroom.”

We get ready for bed together in comfortable silence. It’s all very domestic and easy in a way new relationships never are. I don’t have any clean clothes, so I forgo a shower and simply strip down to my boxer briefs. By the time we settle into bed together, I’m surprised to realize I’m close to falling asleep. I shouldn’t be so shocked—it’s been a long day. A day filled with anxiety and emotions—and sex. But I haven’t fallen asleep this early or easily in weeks.

When Milly curls into me, resting her head on my chest, I drift off within minutes.

I awaken with a start, the pressure in my bladder driving me out of bed and to the restroom. Absentmindedly, I notice there is an empty spot where Milly slept. The sun is bright in the hallway. I finish my morning ablutions quickly and find Milly in the kitchen.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” she says, coming over to press a kiss onto my cheek.

“What time is it?” I ask groggily.

“It’s after nine,” she replies. My eyes go wide. I haven’t slept this late in months. “You slept for over ten hours.”

“Wow,” I say. “I can’t remember the last time I slept through the night.”

“How does it feel?” she asks, smiling brightly at me.

“Amazing. I feel like I could run a marathon.”

“Why don’t you start with breakfast?” she says, handing me a cup of coffee. I sink onto a stool at the counter, watching her prepare our morning meal.

For the first time in a long time, things finally seem to be looking up.

I
watch
Cameron out of the corner of my eye as I make pancakes. He looks absolutely adorable, in nothing but his underwear, still groggy and bed-headed. He looks well rested and utterly relaxed in a way I’ve never seen him before. He smiles as me sleepily over the rim of his coffee.

“Do you work today?” he asks, his voice still deep with sleep.

“Nope,” I say as I put the first round of pancakes on the griddle to fry. “I was expecting yesterday to be a lot more traumatic than it actually was. So I’d thought I would need an extra day off, to recover.”

“Smart,” he chuckles. “And I’m glad it turned out better than expected.”

“Me too,” I reply, a shudder running down my spine as I think about the previous evening. “I still can’t believe we screwed around at our parents’ wedding.”

“I can,” he says with a proud smile. “Also, you’re still covered in hickies. Sorry about that.”

I’d noticed them this morning as soon as I woke up—bruises of varying shapes and shades running down my neck and across my chest. Most of them will be covered by my scrubs—I’ll just need to make sure I wear something especially high-necked next time.

“You’re not sorry, don’t even pretend,” I say with a smile as I place the plate of pancakes and eggs in front of him.

“No,” he says with a cheeky grin. “I’m really not.”

“Eat up,” I push the syrup and jelly across the table. “You’re too skinny.”

He grumbles something about me trying to fatten him up, but quickly digs in. I turn to my own plate of food.

“So…” I begin, chewing on my lower lip. I have been thinking about this all morning, but I’m scared to bring it up now. I don’t want to ruin the mood.

“So…” he prompts after swallowing a huge bite of pancake.

“I was thinking… that we should probably tell our parents.”

“What? Why?” he frowns. I knew he wasn’t going to take this well.

“What if your dad is there when we go get your stuff?”

“He won’t be. He mostly stays at your mom’s house anyway.”

“I still find it gross,” I say.

“They’re married, Milly.” He’s smirking at me while he eats.

“I try not to think about it,” I reply loftily. “And we’re getting off subject. Don’t you think your dad will eventually notice that you’ve moved out? I think it’s best to be upfront.”

Cameron shrugs his shoulders. I know it won’t be easy to stand up to his dad. He’s used to taking orders—to being a good son. But we can’t just run away from this forever.

“You’re probably right,” he concedes after a moment, his shoulders slumping.

“It’ll be okay,” I say, reaching across the table to grab his hand. “What’s the worst he can do? Shout at you? Big deal.”

Cameron nods in agreement, though he seems to have lost his appetite.

“
W
here were you last night
?” my mother demands as soon as I have her on the phone.

“At your wedding reception,” I remind her.

“No you weren’t. At least not for long. I looked for you.”

“Yeah, well, there were a lot of people there,” I tell her. “I left a little early, but I was there for most of it.” I don’t say that I spent a good portion of the evening in an off-limits bedroom, engaging in inappropriate behavior with her new husband’s son. But I smile as I think about it.

“You didn’t say goodbye,” she says indignantly. I’m surprised she even noticed.

“Sorry,” I say. “Listen, I would like to talk to you today—you and James. I know you’re leaving for your brief honeymoon this afternoon, but I thought maybe we could meet up first.”

“That’s fine,” she replies, though she sounds a little taken aback. We haven’t really been on the best of terms lately, so I understand. “You can come over before we leave.”

“I was actually hoping that we could meet at James’s place—where Cameron is staying.”

“Why?” she asks, suddenly suspicious.

“I’ll explain everything, mom. Just meet me there around noon.”

“Fine,” she says and hangs up the phone without a “goodbye.”

“That sounds like it went well,” Cameron says from the sink where he’s washing the breakfast dishes.

“As good as anything goes with Sabrina,” I reply. “But she’s agreed to meet, and your dad is coming, so we’re on.”

“Yippy,” he says sarcastically.

I definitely share his sentiment.

I
’ve never actually been
inside Cameron’s apartment. The building is nice, with a doorman that waves at us as we make our way towards the elevator. Cameron shifts anxiously. He’s grown more and more tense, the closer we’ve come to his dad’s home.

“You didn’t grow up here did you?” I ask, trying to take his mind off the impending confrontation.

“No,” he confirms. “I grew up a few minutes outside of the city—in Arlington. Once I moved out, dad sold the house and moved closer into the city.”

“It’s nice, though,” I reply. “I mean, not that I’ve seen the apartment yet, but the building is nice.”

“I like yours better,” he says, making me scoff.

“My apartment is complete crap compared to this,” I say.

“It’s warmer—more homey. And you have a balcony, and trees. I find this apartment… suffocating.”

I have a feeling that it’s less about the actual apartment and more about the environment—more about living with his overbearing father. I don’t say this, however. I just nod and take his hand as the elevator doors open and we walk towards his apartment.

When we get to the door, he stops and takes a deep breath before unlocking it and letting us both in. As I suspected, my mother is already here, as is James. It’s impossible to arrive anywhere before her. As we make our way in, she narrows her eyes at Cameron before looking at me questioningly.

“What’s going on, son?” James asks in a demanding voice. I haven’t had much time to study him before now. Well, I could have yesterday, but I’d spent the entire wedding looking at anything but the ceremony—or Cameron. He’s good-looking for a man in his fifties. His hair is grey but thick and he appears to be in good shape. I smile inwardly as I think about Cameron at that age.

I also realize that Cameron hasn’t actually answered his father. Instead, he’s standing stock still in the middle of the living room, looking at the floor as if he can’t bring himself to talk.

“Cameron and I have decided to continue seeing each other,” I decide to help him, just wanting to get the entire ordeal over with. Plus, it was my idea to face them now, I might as well step up.

“What?” my mother demands, glaring at me. “You can’t. You’re practically siblings.”

“No, we’re really not,” I say with a laugh.

Mother purses her lips, but it’s James who speaks, ignoring me.

“What’s the meaning of this, son? I thought we decided what was best.”

I reach out and grab Cameron’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze. He finally raises his head and stares squarely at his father’s face.

“No,” he says. “
You
decided that it would be best if I stopped seeing Milly.
I
now decided that I want to be with her.”

“Cameron, what the hell is going on?” James snaps.

“We’re together,” Cameron growls back at his father, finally breaking free from whatever spell he was under. “And I’m moving in with her.”

“What?” both parents say together. I can’t help but smile, which seems to make them even angrier.

“We think it’s best if he lives with me while he continues to recover,” I say, giving James a pointed look. “I think he shouldn’t be alone.”

“Oh, do you?” James replies. “You think you can just come in here and decide what’s best for
my
son?”

“No,” I nearly shout. “I think that Cameron is fully capable of making up his own mind about what’s right for him.”

“Cameron, you can’t be serious,” James snarls.

“I am,” Cameron says with conviction. “We just came to get my stuff. And to let the two of you know.”

“This is ridiculous,” my mother says. “You’re making a huge mistake.”

“I don’t care what you two think,” Cameron says, letting go of my hand and moving further into the apartment. I’m just going to get my things, and we’ll be gone.”

“How can you be so selfish?” my mother asks, glaring at me.

“
Me,
selfish?” I ask. “How am
I
the one who’s selfish?”

“It’s my honeymoon,” she says, “and here you two are, trying to ruin our lives by cavorting together.”

“We’re not trying to ruin anything,” I say through clenched teeth. “Our relationship has nothing to do with yours.”

I want to say more, but at that moment Cameron comes back into the room carrying a single duffle bag.

“That it?” I ask.

“I’m a soldier,” he replies with a smile. “I pack light.”

“I can’t believe you, son,” James growls. “I’m so disappointed. You were a disappointment as a soldier and now you’re a disappointment as a son.”

All of the color drains from Cameron’s face. He looks like he’s about to vomit—or punch his father. I grab his hand—the one not holding the duffle bag—and pull him towards the door before one of us says or does something truly regrettable.

“Are you okay?” I ask in the elevator.

Cameron nods but I know that he’s lying. He’s silent during the entire car ride home, his face ashen and his hands squeezed into fists. In the apartment, he places his bag on the floor of the bedroom, but he doesn’t unpack. He just sits down on the bed and puts his head in his hands.

“You’re not a disappointment,” I say, gently rubbing his back. “Your dad is an asshole.
He’s
the one with the problems, not you.” Cameron doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “Listen, I don’t know what happened in Iraq, but I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. If you were an embarrassment as a soldier, would they really be trying to get you to fight the medical discharge? Would they really let you back?”

Cameron doesn’t answer. In fact, he doesn’t move at all.

“I wish you’d talk to me about it,” I say. “But I’m not going to force you. All in time.”

I leave him to his thoughts and head to the kitchen to make lunch. I can’t help but be worried. I’ve never seen anyone shut down like this before. His father is even worse than I thought—no wonder Cameron’s struggling.

Things will be better now
, I tell myself as I make sandwiches. He’ll start to improve.

As I’m finishing up preparing lunch, Cameron finally comes out of the bedroom. He’s in sweats and he’s carrying his running shoes. He offers me a weak smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Lunch is just about ready,” I say.

“I’m actually not very hungry right now,” he says apologetically. “I was thinking I would go for a run.”

“Okay,” I reply, offering him a warm smile. “I can wrap this up and leave it in the fridge for you.”

“Thanks,” he says, giving me a slightly more genuine smile. He walks up to me and kisses me softly on the cheek. I use the kiss as an opportunity to stretch my arms around him and pull him into a tight hug.

All too soon, he pulls away and heads out the door. Once he’s gone, I slump down on a stool in the kitchen, almost ready to cry. I can’t help but worry about him, even as I tell myself things are going to be okay.

If only he would talk to me.