But it changed me, and there was no going back.
I was home in the States for barely two weeks when Greg and Lauren invited me to their housewarming party. I didn’t want to go, but Greg gave me the whole, “you can’t sit around and stew in your memories” speech, and I knew he was right. I had to move on and live my life. I couldn’t let what happened over there define me.
So I got dressed, I drove over, and I stood in his back yard, drinking a beer.
And it was nice. It was strange, but it was nice. I didn’t have to worry about suicide bombings, or ambushes, or any of the other thousand ways I could die over there. I just had to stand around, make small talk, and try to enjoy myself.
Which is what I tried to do. I was doing a pretty fucking good job, too, until she showed up.
Piper appeared out of nowhere, and it shook me to the core. I should have expected her, since she was Lauren’s best friend after all, but it came as a shock anyway. She looked exactly like I remembered: beautiful figure, perfect lips, gorgeous eyes. Everything about her reminded me of that night, and I couldn’t help but let a sting of desire run through my stomach.
I hadn’t felt that desire in a long time, not since she stopped writing. After she stopped writing, everything was numb and quiet. My mind was focused only on my job, and I didn’t have time to daydream about the way she made me feel that night. I didn’t have time to wonder what could have been if I hadn’t left, if I took what I really wanted and made Piper mine. I didn’t have time to imagine the long, sweating nights, the white picket fence, the kids and the dog.
I was too busy dodging bullets.
Once Piper walked away, I stared after her like I had just seen a ghost.
“You okay, man?” Greg asked me.
“Yeah,” I grunted.
“Come on. Stop that shit.”
I looked at him. “What shit?”
“I can see it in your eyes,” he said softer. “The fucking memories, right?”
I shrugged. “They’re not so bad.”
He laughed softly. “Yeah man, that’s what I used to say. I had dreams, too, when I first got back.”
“That wasn’t my first tour.”
“I know, brother. That’s worse. You’ve got three tours worth of memories now.”
I nodded, frowning. “Yeah, I do.”
“Try and let it go, man. That, or go get some help. There’s no shame in it.”
“I’m trying,” I said.
“I know you are.” He laughed. “I can see by the way you were staring at Piper.”
I grinned. “You noticed?”
“Hell yeah, man. You looked like you wanted to tear her to pieces and eat her for dinner.”
“Something like that.”
He laughed again. “You know she has a boyfriend, right?”
“I didn’t know that.”
“She does. Some douchebag named Tony.”
“Douchebag?”
“Yeah. Some Italian guy. Lauren swears he’s a mobster but I think he’s just an asshole.”
“She’s dating a mobster?”
“Maybe. I guess she has a type.”
“What’s that?”
“Assholes. Like you.”
I laughed and drank my beer, but inwardly felt anger. It wasn’t that Piper moved on. I knew she was going to move past me and I couldn’t really blame her. It was more that she was dating an asshole mob guy. She deserved better than that.
The rest of the afternoon was pretty typical. I stayed outside with Greg and the other guys, and I did my best to avoid running into Piper. I caught her eye once or twice across the yard, but I didn’t go up and talk to her. I couldn’t see the point: she was in a relationship, and I wasn’t interested in just being her friend.
We drank, we joked, and finally the party was wrapping up. I hugged and kissed Lauren, hugged Greg, and headed out front, feeling okay for the first time since I’d been home. I felt normal for the first time in a long time, come to think of it. Even out there, I didn’t feel like myself.
I felt like the angel of death out there. Everywhere I went, more death followed. Part of me still expected that to happen back home, and part of me was disappointed when it didn’t happen.
For all my complaints, those two years in Syria were also the best years of my life. I lived for that work, because I was fucking good at it. Hell yeah, I saw some shit, some real bad shit, but I also completed my missions and was a fucking winner. I could sit around and feel bad about everything, or I could realize that I did a job and I did it well.
And I enjoyed it. I fucking enjoyed it. I was a trained killer at the end of the day, and it felt good to use all that training to complete mission after mission. Now that I didn’t have a mission, there was something missing in my life.