Saying "goodbye" to Hornby was incredibly hard. Much harder than I thought it was going to be. During the wake, I knelt in front of the casket and told him I was no longer bearing that grudge. I forgave him for what he did to Hudson.
I slowly stood up, my hand still resting on the lid of the casket. It was closed because the extent of damage to his body was so bad. I managed to walk away, feeling as though a small weight in my heart had been lifted.
Delhoun and I left the wake long before anyone else. He was taking this hard, but he didn't hesitate to talk to me when we sat down together in a park several blocks away from the funeral home. "I don't believe I told you about some of the things he did. This was after you had left Australia . . . yeah, it was after you left Australia. Anyway, he knew about your situation, you know, how you were recruited from prison and all that."
"You told him?"
Delhoun nodded. "I told him. He did try to be nicer to you, but you kept giving off this vibe that you were upset, which is understandable given . . . what happened with Hudson. He didn't give up, though, on helping you."
"I knew that. He would answer any questions I had about the fucking flower."
"He did more than that. A lot more." Delhoun reached into one of his pockets, pulling out an envelope. "After Christmas, he gave a large sum of money to a veterans' mental health organization, and he gifted his residence in the north suburbs of D.C. to you."
"Wait, what?" I frowned, and felt my heart skip a few beats. "He did what?"
Delhoun handed me the envelope. "He used to own a house for when he was working in this area. Had it for about . . . I'd say five, maybe six years. He explicitly told me not to tell you about it until you got your discharge, because I had told him that you don't have a place to call your own, and he decided that since he's already got another residence down in Charleston, South Carolina, he'd give you this other home for when you're ready to become a civilian again. This is the documentation confirming that the property is yours. No one can touch it without contacting you or any other benefactor, meaning me or Hornby."
"This is a fucking joke, right?"
Delhoun shook his head.
"So, I . . . I have a house now?"
"Yep."
A strangely light and airy feeling had spread throughout my body. I don't believe in a thousand years Delhoun would lie to me. Of course, I don't understand any of the language used in the documents; I just knew it stated that this house was mine.
In the midst of everything that had gone horribly wrong, here was something I could be happy about. I was going to have a place to call home.
Delhoun still wanted me to keep things quiet until I got all the necessary information to give to the USCM, which I could understand. At the same time, I wondered why Delhoun felt the need to tell me about this now that Hornby was gone. Maybe he felt it'd help with my grief. Or maybe he knew he wouldn't be able to take care of the place on his own, so he needed my help.
What worried me was what the USCM would say about this. After all, I'm still considered a felon to the civilian world. I can completely understand why people would be a little nervous about their neighbor having murder in his history. Hornby did ultimately have the final say on the property. Now that he's dead, it's in his will that house belongs to me. Can that be argued with? I hope not, but given that Delhoun's name is on the paper, too, maybe they can take it from me and give it to him. But, knowing Delhoun, he'd find a way to give it back to me.
My happiness faded when I thought about all this. Having a home was too good to be true. I was going to lose it as fast as I realized I had it. Clearly, I'm not meant to have peace of mind . . .
The only person I told was Ranelli. He didn't know any of the legal jargon and couldn't form a hypothesis on what the USCM and any civvie representatives might say. They might not say anything for awhile because it's too soon after Hornby's death to be arguing over this. Simply put, he told me not to worry about it. It was likely everything would be fought through Delhoun.
I managed to put that in the back of my mind when I realized that without Hornby, I couldn't receive my operation. That worried me a lot more. I didn't want the silver pearls in my body for much longer.
Someone had to take over his research. Soon.
I sighed when I picked up my journal again to find the last couple pages are full of my crap on the supposed house I now own. It's rambling. It's me worrying about things I shouldn't be worried about.
Several days after Hornby's funeral, I received a message from a Doctor Adril regarding my operation. It had been rescheduled and will be taking place in two days, at seven o'clock in the morning. Of course, I was nervous, but at least I wasn't going to have to wait anymore.
Wierzbowski and Hudson offered to take me out to dinner (no drinks, though) for one last meal before I had to starve for twenty-four hours. They both promised to be helpful while I recovered, but that's no guarantee with Hudson involved.
"Did you get to talk to Eliza?" I asked Wierzbowski.
"I did, over the phone. She's not upset about me missing the date. We're going to meet up in a couple days, same place she wanted to go before," Wierzbowski replied.
"I called Miranda," Hudson chirped. "She's OK. We're gonna go to a movie tomorrow night."
"Good." I looked down at my food. "Good to know everyone's still together."
There was silence for a few minutes, until Hudson said, "We should do something tomorrow, man. Drake can't eat, so, he's gonna be real cranky unless we go do something that doesn't involve food." He took a sip of his beer. "A couple parks are open. Could take a long hike."
"A flat one, in the shade," I said.
"We'll see what we can find, man," Hudson replied.
When we got back to base, I took a shower, then went to see Vasquez. She was still in the shower, so I made sure the room door was closed before I took off my shirt and lay on the bed. Ten minutes later, Vasquez came out of the bathroom, and gave me a half-annoyed look. "Drake, what're you doing?"
I grinned. "I have surgery the day after tomorrow, honey. You don't want to have one last night before we don't get to do anything for the next three weeks?"
Vasquez sighed. "Alright, before we do anything, can I just . . . talk to you?"
"Sure."
"You do realize I'm worried about you, right?"
"Yeah. I know. I wish you'd tell me sooner, but you didn't."
"I didn't know how to say it without sounding like I was going to cry."
"Sweetheart, it's just me. It's not like you'd be crying in front of anyone else."
Without a word, Vasquez let me get in bed with her. "I hope what Delhoun told you is true, and that the house Hornby left you is going to be yours. Did he show you any pictures?"
"A couple. It's not a large house, but it's not really small, either. It's got a yard that overlooks the river and the parkway right across from it. It's got a nice big living room and kitchen. Dining room can be adjusted for when it's just us or we got company over. Delhoun said he and Hornby have been making sure things don't fall apart. The most we would have to worry about is dust."
"You'd be helping me with the cleaning." Vasquez kissed me.
"I look forward to it," I purred.
"And you'll be helping me with the yardwork."
"Oh, boy."
We nuzzled and kissed and let things become passionate. Vasquez asked to see my tattoo, and then kissed the area below my ribcage where I would have my incision. I kissed her forehead, and then felt her yank my pants down to my thighs.
That morning was when my fast began, so instead of going to the mess hall, I went to the gym. I personally don't like exercising on an empty stomach; I feel tired and weak and my body isn't drawing energy from anything. What's the point?
I ended up sitting on one of the lifting benches with my legs drawn up, and sighing, wondering what I was doing. A few minutes later, someone walked into the room, and I turned to see Wierzbowski.
"Thought you might like some company," he said. "A few of the guys were wondering where you were and if you were OK."
"Well, thanks for the concern," I replied, rubbing my face. "I just want to get this done and over with."
"I think we all feel the same way. None of us like seeing you suffer like this. I mean, we know this isn't harming you, but we feel bad watching you mentally beat yourself up."
I nodded. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. I certainly hope you feel better when this is over." Wierzbowski glanced around, and then sat on the bench next to me. "You know, I do understand how you're feeling right now. You want food the way I'd want alcohol when I started recovering. I know Hudson and I are taking you somewhere to just walk around and try not to think about anything, but it'll take more than that."
"It's only for a day. I'll be fine."
Wierzbowski gave a weak smile. "I can guarantee you'll be unbearably cranky in a few hours."
He wasn't wrong. While I wasn't exactly unbearable to be around, I noticed I was becoming anxious. Not about the surgery, but about everything else. My mind was constantly going places I didn't want it to go, and I was worried it would eventually rouse my trauma from whatever dark little place it was hiding in my brain.
Hudson and Wierzbowski took that all as a sign we needed to leave the base and make our way to the trail we'd be hiking. We were reaching the tail-end of morning rush hour, so the scents of coffee and fast food were still strong. I salivated when someone walked on the Metro with a bacon sandwich.
"Stop looking at it, man," Hudson whispered. "Don't look at it." He gently took my head, and made me look at my boots. When I looked back up, he pinched me.
I turned to punch him, but Wierzbowski reached over to grab my arm. "If you don't want him pinching you, don't look at the Goddamn sandwich."
I grunted at him before looking at the floor.
We ended up having to take a taxi to the park once we got off the Metro. I was now less anxious and gradually getting more cranky. Feeling the sun on my back was nice, though.
The trail was on a hillside overlooking the Chesapeake Bay. The sky above us was blue, but way, way off in the distance, on the water, was a wall of gray clouds. "I don't remember anything about a storm coming in, do you?" Wierzbowski asked.
"Supposed to hit us later this afternoon, man," Hudson replied. "Like, six o'clock or something." He looked over his shoulder at me. "You doing OK back there, Drake?"
"Piss off," I muttered.
Hudson gave me a thumbs-up.
As we kept walking, we spotted someone familiar jogging in the opposite direction. She stopped when she saw us, and waved. "Good morning, guys!"
"Hey, Eliza," Wierzbowski said. "Didn't expect to see you out here."
"Good things often come unexpectedly." Eliza walked up to him, opening her arms for a hug. "How're you, 'Ski?"
"I'm . . . fine . . ." Wierzbowski was hesitant on hugging her, and that kinda set me off.
"Hug her!" I shouted, clenching my fists.
Everyone looked at me like I was nuts.
Eliza glanced at Wierzbowski. "Is he OK?"
"Oh, he's just hungry," Hudson said.
"Well, did you have breakfast? That's kind of important."
"He's having surgery tomorrow, so he has to fast today," Wierzbowski said.
"Oh, no, what's wrong?"
"Everything," I replied.
Wierzbowski did his best to explain what was going on. No matter which way you spin it, telling someone that I have alien plant waste inside of me will make them grimace, and Eliza was no exception. She did, however, feel bad for me, and offered to hug me to make me feel better. Honestly, I wasn't in a hugging mood, but I let this slide.
She shouldn't be hugging me; she should be hugging Wierzbowski.
Anyways, Eliza offered to accompany us on the rest of our walk. She walked alongside Wierzbowski, while Hudson was behind them, reading the map. I was behind everyone, trying not to let my grumpiness get the best of me.
I'm guessing Wierzbowski had said everything he needed to say about the bombing and why he didn't make it to their original date, because they didn't say a word about it today. As we came to an old bridge over a creek feeding into the Potomac River, Eliza took Wierzbowski's hand, squeezing it tightly as we crossed. She really doesn't seem like someone who's easily frightened by stuff like this; I think she just wanted Wierzbowski to take a hint and stop being so nervous when it came to affection.
Well, the big guy's not stupid, so, he took the hint. He kept holding Eliza's hand even after we got off the bridge.
The trail continued through a long tunnel of trees, until sending us back onto another hill overlooking the water. Everything was blooming. Bees were everywhere, making Hudson nervous even though he's not allergic to them. The bees were just making me think of honey, and my mouth watered as I thought about dipping a big spoon in a jar and licking it.
"Doesn't this place look like it came right out of a fantasy movie?" Eliza asked.
"I guess so," Wierzbowski replied.
"Look, there're some robin eggs in this nest here."
Eggs . . . I would give anything to have some eggs right now, I thought. Fried, scrambled, boiled, poached, deviled, in a sandwich, egg salad.
As we exited the woods and returned to the bay, Hudson looked at his watch. "It's almost eleven-thirty, man," he said. "We're making good time."
The path sloped downward to the beach. I started thinking about my short visit to the Bahamas, about Casey. I gave a sad sigh, knowing I probably wasn't going to see him ever again. Although, maybe I would, if I ended up having to stay in the Marines longer, and he enlisted when he came of age. He had eight years left till that, and I have four-and-a-half until my contract is up. It could work out if I had to stay in another five or so years.
That's if he decides to enlist. I feel like he will, though.
While everyone else got lunch from a small bar near the beach, I was sitting on a bench some distance away. I could smell the food and hear everyone talking and laughing. My anger and frustration and crankiness had given way to exhaustion and depression. I had no energy, period. I knew I had snapped at my own friends and it wasn't right of me to do so. It's because I'm selfish. All I care about are my own needs.
As I gazed out at the bay, I heard someone approaching from my right. I turned to see Eliza walking over with a plastic cup of water. "Hey," she said. "I brought you something, if you want it. You are allowed to have water, you know." She sat next to me. "I also noticed you look lonely."
"I'm not lonely. I just . . . I'm sorry about . . . yelling at Wierzbowski and not being very pleasant today."
"Well, I also want to apologize for what I said at the bowling alley, about how you look mean and scary. That really wasn't something I should've said."
"Honestly, I don't give a rat's ass. I am mean, and I am scary, so, you weren't wrong."
"That was before 'Ski told me about your little friend."
"What?"
Eliza poked my forehead. "Your problem. If I had known about that, I wouldn't have said that about you."
"You don't have to be nice to me just because I have PTSD. That's the last thing I want anyone to do."
"Fine. What if . . . I'm nice to you because you seem like a good person and you're my boyfriend's closest friend?"
"I'm far from a good person."
"A decent person."
"I can live with that." I looked down at the cup of water, and drank. A refreshing coolness pulsated through my body. "Wierzbowski's not being all shy over there, is he?"
"He's getting better. I think he really wishes it was just the two of us."
"He told me he looks forward to a date where it's just you and him. I can't blame him. Plus, it's a step in the right direction for your relationship; a one-on-one is where he functions best. You'll really get to know him and he'll be more inclined to talk to you, and . . . be a bit more affectionate toward you." I smirked. "Come on, you want a guy like him to be affectionate with you. He'll keep you warm in the winter and will provide you with shade in the summer."
That got a bigger smile out of Eliza, but it faded a little. "I dunno, I'm . . . really not sure what to do if something happens and he . . . goes back to drinking."
I shook my head. "I don't think that'll happen. Not unless you upset him-"
"That's what I'm afraid of."
"If you outright lie to him or make him feel like he's not good for anything, then you really fucked up. I don't think you have to worry about him drinking. Trust me. I know the guy."
Eliza nodded, looking at me from the corner of her eye. "Thanks, Drake."
I'm not lying when I say that my talk with Eliza made me feel a little better. She really did try to get along with both me and Hudson, which I can understand given that we're close to Wierzbowski.
None of this stopped me from realizing the day was winding down, and I was getting closer and closer to my operation. My body was torn between feeling anxious and feeling hungry.
Around four, Hudson left us because of his date with Miranda, so it was just Wierzbowski, Eliza, and me taking another train back to Eliza's home stop. She thanked us for the day, shook my hand, and then paused in front of Wierzbowski. He opened his arms a little, letting her hug him, and he hugged her back.
A very long minute passed. I then heard Eliza whisper, "I'd like to give you a kiss, but I can't reach."
Without saying a word, Wierzbowski gently lifted her so she could kiss his cheek. He blushed a little, and decided to hold onto Eliza a little longer. "You're not afraid of heights, are you?" he asked.
"No, not at all. But, I do need to go because I've got work in the morning. Plus, we're going out tomorrow night, remember? We'll see each other again." She put her arms around his neck and kissed him again before he put her down. "Have a good night, 'Ski."
"You . . . have a good night, too, Eliza." Wierzbowski watched her board the Metro, and continued watching until the train had disappeared from view.
When we returned to base, Wierzbowski joined the others for dinner, and I took a shower. Afterwards, I went to the lounge, and lay sprawled out on the couch, staring at a baseball game on TV. Ten minutes later, Hicks came in, and sat on the couch across from me. "Hey, Drake."
"What?" I mumbled.
"Just thought you probably don't want to be alone right now."
"I'm not sure what I want right now. Other than food."
Hicks smirked a little. "Hey, I promise, as soon as the doctors say you can eat, I'll take you wherever you want and let you order whatever you want. You didn't act like Hudson all day, did you?"
"Oh, God, no. I kept all my whining inside. He would've been whining every passing second."
"That's true."
"I did snap at people, but that was pretty much it."
"Ah. So, you didn't keep it all in."
"Was that wrong?"
"Not exactly. Did you apologize?"
"Eventually, yeah. It was just to Wierzbowski and his girlfriend."
Hicks paused. "Wierzbowski's got a girlfriend now? How about that."
"She's really nice. Hope you'll get to meet her soon."
Hicks nodded. "Yeah. Wierzbowski needs a really nice girl in his life. Is she just as shy as he is?"
"No. Just the opposite, actually, but she's understanding him."
"Good."
We talked until more people began filing into the lounge, and took the conversation to my room. I was glad to see Hicks was in a better mood, but I also hoped he wasn't concealing things just to make sure I was content until my surgery.
I had to be up before everyone else so I could get to the hospital. Hicks and Apone were escorting me, and Wierzbowski, Hudson, and Vasquez wanted to accompany them. Reluctantly, they were allowed to join us.
When we arrived, I was taken to a room to meet Doctor Adril, who was apparently taking over a good chunk of Hornby's work. She looked like the no-nonsense type, and spared all pleasantries. Basically, she told me the same thing Hicks told me last week about what the procedure would be and how I had to care for my incision afterward. That was it; there was no exchange of names or "how're you doing" or shit like that.
I was laid on a bed and given an injection to start knocking me out, and my friends could come over and wish me luck. Wierzbowski squeezed my hand, Hudson patted my head, and Vasquez simply touched my shoulder. Everything was starting to fade as I was wheeled into dark room, and the last thing I saw, consciously, was a mask being fit to my face.
Question: What would have happened if Drake, Wierzbowski, and Hudson had run into Carlisle instead of Eliza?