Liam
We climbed into bed together like the married couple we had pretended to be. I turned on my back and rested my arm across the pillow, inviting her to lie on my chest. She didn't even hesitate. Her small frame curled into me and I kissed the top of her head because somewhere in my brain I was already programed for that. It was like my DNA was telling me that she was meant to be mine.
Her hand swept up my chest and came to rest right on top of my heart. You know that feeling you get when you're very cold? That restless ache in your bones and a relentless shivering as your body tries to warm itself up? It might have been the perfect temperature in our room, but my hearts was reacting like we were in sub zero territory. It pulsed quickly and with a slight ache that immediately felt better once her hand was on top of it--like a hot blanket on an icy heart. She was melting me.
"Were you and Pines always close?" I asked, running my hand along her blonde strands.
"My mom says we were thick as thieves since the day she brought me home." Juliet smiled against my skin and I remained quiet so she would continue. "We did everything together. I know a lot of younger siblings get mad because their brother or sister treats them poorly, but Ken never did. He always let me tag a along with his friends and made sure I was happy at school.
"We had some fights, of course, like any kids would, but those were just between us. Even if we were mad at each other, if someone else tried to say something against one of us, we'd both attack. It got a little bumpy when we shared the same high school. He didn't like some of the guys on his team hanging around me. I didn't want to listen to him because I thought he was trying to interfere too much in my life."
I smiled because that was the Pines that I knew. He was so loyal to everyone. "How did you feel about him joining the Marines since that is one of your seven letter words?" I half tease.
"Goodbye is a seven letter word. So are leaving and waiting." She sighed. "He always said he was going to do it. There was never anything else. From the time he was little he would proudly claim he was going to be a Marine."
I knew that feeling. I had done the same. "Well, we're pretty badass." I tug on her hair and she glares up at me with mock anger.
"Yes, the Marines are badass. But it's because of that that I cried when he signed. You are the first in and the last to leave. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out how dangerous that is. You aren't even allowed to buy yourself a beer, but you can be sent away and possibly die. It's fucked up." Her voice was fiery and I knew I was seeing a little window into how passionate she could have been when defending her brother.
"It's an honor no matter the risks. No one could have talked me out of it." I told her softly. She nodded and went back to watching her hand on my heart.
"I didn't even try. He had to do it. Sometimes we're given baggage from the generations before ours. We don't always get to choose what we carry with us. He was handed a big fucking sea bag full of duty, honor, and expectations. He's a third generation Marine. He picked that bag up and carried it without question."
"And you?"
"My bag was just as full." Her voice trails off a little and I knew she must've been thinking a million things inside her head. "My mom taught us to respect the military. She still flies both a Marine Corps flag and American flag on our porch when the weather permits. Even with all the heartbreak she had to survive with my dad deploying and eventually leaving us, she still showed us that it was all for something. The boys in my family had a greater purpose."
"That's heavy," I answered. Military wives were some of the strongest women I'd ever met. I say 'some of' because there's a clear distinction between those who understand the work the men do and respect it, and those who see it as a part time marriage and step out while their spouses are gone. Juliet had been raised by one of the good ones, and if she ever chose to take up with a military man, she'd walk right in the footsteps her mother had laid out before her. That's how cut and dry that divide was.
"My mom signed for him when he was just seventeen. I asked her once why she didn't try to stop him. She told me that she wouldn't get in the way of something that big. He would do it with or without her and those that travel that road without support fall into trouble."
Her mom was right. When you're determined, you're determined. Those who didn't have family support got into a lot of trouble. Instead of going home over breaks, they'd get drunk or stir up shit that was better left alone. They always had an extra chip on their shoulder like they had something to prove.
"I stayed in my room for three days and refused to talk to him. Once the papers are signed, the forward momentum of the military kicks in and I wasn't ready to face that."
"I remember that feeling," I said. I moved my hand to capture hers over my heart. "But I can tell you that signing that contract was a giant bluff." Her eyes looked up into mine. "For me, I knew I was going to sign and so I acted like I believed everything else would fall into place. People who loved me would accept and support it and those that didn't could just fuck off."
I looked down to where our hands were together. "It's a bluff. It mattered what the people who loved me thought. It hurt to watch them hurt and full of fear. It fucking sucked to be the person causing pain and having no control over stopping it. I couldn't promise everything would be fine. I still can't."
"Why did you join?" she asked, her pretty blue eyes staring up into mine. The corner of my mouth lifted in my trademark cocky smile. The answer I was about to give her sounded cheesy as fuck and a bit narcissistic, but it was the truth.
"I'm representing what young men in this country should strive for. At seventeen, I knew that I'd been given something I didn't really earn. I have freedoms and rights just because I was born here. Those things didn't just fall into America's lap. Men and women fought for them. They fought to make America a country that is so fucking proud of the way we do things that we want to help other people in different countries live the good life we have. We want everyone to have rights, whether they appreciate them or not.
"A lot of guys talk shit about the military. The news has been known to make stories around how uneducated the younger members are and how they had no choice but to sign away their rights and serve. But they're the assholes. I won't take for granted what every generation of Marines has done before me. Some silly self-righteous twenty-somethings believe bravery is holding up a sign in front of a government office or tweeting about the injustice of some stupid law. Bravery is riding in an amphibious assault vehicle thousands of miles away from home knowing that the numbers were not in your favor. Being willing to climb over the dead bodies of men just like you for the chance at returning at least one fucking shot in the enemies direction.
"It's about fighting for something that maybe you don't even know anything about, but together we are stronger and our version of evil here in the states is still many other country's idea of paradise. Bravery is running up a mountain embedded with foreign troops and never giving up. I wanted to be a part of that legacy. Your brother did too."
Her eyes were a bit watery, but she smiled at me. She nodded her head and curled her fingers so that my hand could hold hers more securely. "I know he felt the same way. It just feels good to hear that you witnessed the worst thing possible—faced your own mortality—and would still make that same choice." Her smile fell a little and her eyes shut as she drew in a breath. "As much as I hate how my brother died, I know he would do it all over again if he had another chance."
I felt my heart clench beneath our hands. A little seed of doubt sprouted in my head and I tried hard to hold it there, but it took root and grew right out of my mouth. "I'm not sure he would." I told her. Her eyes flew open and she seemed to grow stiff in my arms.
"What do you mean?" she asked. It felt like her entire composure would fall apart if I said the wrong thing, but I wasn't in the practice of lying and her heart was too pure for any sort of bullshit.
"You're hurting really bad. I can see it in your eyes," I lifted my hand from hers and brushed my fingertip softly over her brow. "I watch your smile trying so hard to be present, but it falls when you think I'm not looking. I'm always looking," I tap her nose and try to give her a reassuring smile, but there's nothing to be happy about in what I see when she's sad. "He must have loved you like crazy. How could he not? I've barely met you and those subtle things have the power to pierce my chest and rip out my heart. If he had to see you grieve even for just a day, he might choose differently. He was a strong guy, but you have the power to break us." I knew it for certain.
"You know, tragedy is a seven letter word," she said softly, her bottom lip quivering just slightly. I ran my thumb softly across it as she watched my eyes. "But so is regrets, and I would have a million of them if he didn't follow his heart. I'd never let him make that sacrifice for me."
I moved my hand to softly brush her cheek. "Sibling and healing are also seven letter words. In your lifetime you will have had them both."
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