Unraveled(57)

“I want to hear the rest of the story.”

I sighed but got the message. “So at Christmas time, Pops asked me if I’d signed my reenlistment papers, and I hadn’t. ‘What are you waiting for, boy? Your CO to come over here and give you an engraved invitation?’” I mimicked my Pops gravely voice. “My dad interrupted him. ‘Speaking of your CO, I’ve heard talk that you should be going to Officer Candidate School.’ Pops replied in his gravely voice, made so by all the yelling he did as a drill instructor, that OCS was for washed out enlisted and that a true Marine was a grunt. He reminded my dad that I could be NCO, a non commissioned officer. Then the two got into a yelling match about how I was going to uphold the Phillips family name the best.”

“Sounds painful,” she winced. Based on earlier conversations it was clear she knew all about painful family engagements.

“The worst thing is that they both love me so I know they want the best but they’re engaged in this power struggle over what I should do next.”

"Will's dad wanted him to be a lawyer. Our parents are law partners. I think Will was trying to escape that as much as anything. He wasn't cut out for the office and legal briefs."

"How about you?"

"No. But Bitsy, my sister, might be one. Heck, she might even be president someday. For sure a judge. She's so smart. So my parents don't hassle me about it. They do think I should go back to school. I dropped out after Will died.”

"I can't imagine."

"You ever do it? Death duty?” she asked.

"No, and I never will. I think you suffer more PTSD delivering constant news of someone dying than you do by being there."

"It can't be fun. I wish I'd held it together better. The chaplain kept saying I was so young."

"Lots of young widows out there now."

We both stared at the water, thinking of the story I’d told that first night.

I spoke first. "Having her try to kill herself was like failing again. We couldn't save him and we almost lost her." My hands were fisted on my knees. Reaching over, she laid her palm over my balled hands. I had a very tough time processing grief but Sam understood. She got me in a way I don’t think anyone had before. Not my pops or my parents or even my brothers. She rested her head against my shoulder and squeezed my hands tight.

This girl stirred some kind of tender emotion in me. Her observation the other day about the difference between wives and girlfriends was spot on. Carrie had been so hungry for the wife position but it was because she wanted a higher status. And she ended up with none

“You'd have made a good military wife," I told her. Sam thought about others. That was the mark of a good military wife. Military people had to be selfless. Both the people who served and those that stayed behind. It had to be a calling for both of them.

She gave a small laugh and shake of her head. "What makes you say that?"

"You care a lot about the other people, almost more than yourself. And that's not always a good thing. You keep downplaying your loss, saying somebody else's loss was greater or somebody else had it worse."

"I'm just really fortunate, you know? And I guess I'm tired of feeling sorry for myself. I've done that for two years. And I have a lot of regrets. I don't want to have any regrets anymore."

"What do you regret?"

"I regret not moving to Alaska when Will got shipped out." She plucked at her shorts. "He wanted me to. We could've gotten married then, or I could've just moved there. It's not like I wasn't without resources like some of the others." Sam turned a bit and shoved my sunglasses off my face, so she could look in my eyes. "Tell me about the girl who cheated on you?”

The question caught me off guard, and I stuttered my response. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“You don't do relationships. You have ultra-impersonal sex hook ups. And you flew off the handle when you thought I was cheating on someone. It’s a big issue with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

No, not really. “I’d rather make love to you.” I brushed my hand up her back and up to the base of her skull. She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away.

“I can’t imagine how you ever survived deployment to the Middle East.”

"You may be surprised to hear this, but I can go without for long periods of time.”

“Is that right?” she mocked.

“That’s right. I have a very active imagination.” With a small movement of my hand, I had her face tilted at the perfect angle. I could kiss her lips or snake my tongue along the column of her throat. I choose the latter.

Against her skin, I told her what I envisioned. “You’re taking your T-shirt off. You’re braless and the fabric catches on the bottom of one your breasts so that it bounces when the shirt finally comes off. I catch it in my mouth, sucking on your nipple. You moan loudly when my mouth covers you.” I reached between us and unzipped my shorts, pulling out my hungry, ready cock. Her hand wrapped around the tip and squeezed. Choking back my groan, I continued. “Your shorts come off and as you’re standing in front of me, I can see by the wetness between your thighs that you’re aroused.”