Some 12,000 miles away fate will lend a hand


Chapter 3

Our love will grow

Brooklyn

Three months before today


The view from the Height's promenade matched the dismal atmosphere surrounding the young man. An occasional sigh his only response to the woman seated beside him. An impressive skyline overlooking the East River paled in comparison to the imposing female figure rattling off reason after reason for a change in their relationship. The wooden bench took on the feel of a restrictive elementary school desk. He took a breath as if the air around him grew thin of oxygen.

The woman, about the same age as the tall twenty something man stated her argument for a trial separation, of sorts. It would not be permanent, just a pause in their relationship. The engagement would have to wait until as she put it.

"We have things to iron out." Her pause, the first since this dissertation began allowed her time to fluff up the new hairstyle. The medium cut set her golden blond locks just above slim shoulders. "Do you like this cut? See how the ends kind of," she smiled oblivious to the downcast expression to her front. "They tickle my shoulders." With that, a modest outburst of laughter followed her words.

Lids closed over his crystal blue eyes. He did the motion in repeated fashion, an effect of the mild current of dust and minute bits of dirt slapping his face. Or to conceal a lone tear that wished to burst out and slap her in the lips, as her words did to him.

"Seeing other people is not a competition." She would explain her original idea.

"I need to expand my boundaries." She jerked her hands upward to stress the next point. "You need to expand your experiences." She sat back on the bench exhaling in a harsh tone. The off again on again spear of wind disturbing the expensive new hairstyle began to aggravate her. Or could it be the blank expression on her future husband.

"I still want to marry you." She stroked his cheek after her declaration. "You have changed since you returned. You know that?" A deep breath showed her loss of patience with his passive attitude. "And I don't mean your wounds or that shoulder thing."

A full head of wavy black hair turned toward the constant chatter. He had not cut it since his separation from the service. It touched the top of his ears. Should he run a comb through the slight mop-top, he could look quite handsome.

"Angelo, you shaved?" She sounded surprised. "Is that for me," a sly smile grew on her expression. One cheek rose highlighting her slight foundation. Black eyeliner trimmed with a sparse light blue hint of color. Her long lashes moved in slow motion. Or that might be the result of his tired vision or matching lack of emotion.

"I hope you are going out tonight." She expressed concern for his well-being as the young woman tuned to see the setting sun reflecting off the multitude of mirrored and glassed skyscrapers to their front. A scent of perfume, ignored during this meeting traveled through his nostrils. Recognizing the sweet odor meant other visions would now become evident to him.

"I guess…" His first words halted. Rubbing the front of his shoulder, the action at times became a way to avoid answering a disturbing question. He feared should he continue the truth would be stated. His mind felt no restriction.

She's sittin' here with her lips made up. I don't even know what color that is.

The warm shine tone is something new for the young woman. It looked as if she needed to impress someone.

"Oh, I hope those scars will heal. I don't want you parading around Cancun like that." She shuddered thinking of the still mending tissue sliced by exploding shrapnel.

"They're almost gone." His soft reply, as long fingers continued to rub and push into the joint connecting his shoulder to the upper arm. It's damage unseen.

"I hope that isn't permanent. My God, will you get some kind of compensation for it?" Again, she showed that recurring look of frustration at his attitude. "And those dreams? I mean," the attractive blonde snorted a disgusted blast of air. "The last time we were in bed together. My God! It was frightening."

"I'm sorry. It's just that I can't shake them." Serving in two combat zones supplied enough memories to fill anyone's night sleep. A tour of duty as just an advisor caused the other memories to pale in comparison. The images of the Philippine assignment dominated his unwelcome thoughts.

"That's why we haven't been intimate in a while. My God, Angelo?"

Her trimmed eyebrows flexed. The brisk motion sent another dose of the sweet perfume down his nose. He could feel it sliding along his throat. "But remember, this is for us." Changing the subject, she continued concerning the benefits of an open relationship for two people in love. "I do love you." She stated with no change of tone. Her aim being to convince him before any serious commitment between them, it must be tried. He decided a few minutes before this assertion it would be best to lose the sense of hearing.

I get part of my chest ripped apart and all she can think about is how I'll look with no damn shirt on."

Her words continued to circle his head, though he could not decipher their meaning. He did not try, or want to.

I'm sorry if my horror filled nightmares disturb you. Ok, so you don't screw me anymore. I'll survive.

Angelo's mind raged with anger. His face continued its blank expression.

Deciding to control his internal ire and look at the absurd situation facing him. Her eyes, I have to admit they look beautiful. Somehow I don't think she's going

to stay in this outfit.

The bulky black sweatshirt still offered a suggestion to anyone near the young woman that beneath the thick cotton top lived a set of erect and shapely breasts.

I guess she has her reasons.

The outfit looked appropriate for a day at the gym or relaxing at home. The bold yellow letters fuel his thoughts.

Princeton, he smiled. I think her forty-something prick of a boss went there. Jack, I think the prick's name is?

"Angelo, you look like you understand? I'm happy for us, no for you."

Long blue tipped nails flashed before his vision. She giggled at the outcome of their meeting.

"Janet," he paused.

"Yes, you can ask me anything." She looked at her watch. The days were growing longer. June is a month when it would be difficult to keep track of time. "Hurry, I have to be home soon." She inched off the bench.

"You a Princeton fan?" He asked.

"What!"

Janet's reply exploded along the rows of faded brown benches lining the picturesque overhang. For a brief moment, the belching exhausts of speeding cars and thunderous trucks making their way on the Brooklyn Queens Expressway below fell silent. An affectionate couple sitting a few feet to the left of her and Angelo shook from their tender embrace. Janet's tirade forcing the pair to interrupt soft kisses and coy smiles. They turned toward the Manhattan skyline as it began to light up the night, feigning indifference over the conversation to their right.

"That is why I am doing this. Since you returned."

He thought fire would shoot from her nostrils as she spoke.

"You have been a, oh I don't know." Janet stood with hands on her waist. The gesture emphasized a slim shape and rounded hips. "I know. I know. You were wounded. So, everyone is suppose to stop. Maybe say thank you?" A gust of wind ruffled the style she once wore with pride. "My hair. This is your fault. You have no respect for me, and after I consoled your mother when you were hurt." She stopped long enough to look at her watch.

She called my mother twice the first week after I was wounded. Then maybe once a month? Some consolation from a future daughter in law that lives around the corner.

"I still think we can work this out. I am not hiding anything. Jack is taking me to a business," putting her face under his to stress the point. "A business dinner." Checking her watch again, she moved closer to the side of the bench. "Find someone to talk to. You are still a good-looking guy."

Still?

He raised his eyebrows at the thought.

"Let me see those beautiful blue eyes." She picked his chin up. "Now kiss me and wish me good luck. This is important for my career." She placed a kiss on his nose, giggled and moved from the bench.

He twisted his head to see her exit. The strain on the area brought a slight shooting pain up the back of his neck

"Ange, maybe you should take a trip. I think I might go to the Bahamas. Maybe you should think of something?"

Janet threw another kiss as she quickened her steps toward the black Hyundai borrowed from her father.

"Angelo, turn that frown upside down." Sneaking a look at her watch as she spoke, it's the best thing for us. You see our love will grow."

You ain't got a pot to piss in. I wonder who is payin' for this Bahama trip?

The familiar sound of her I-phone receiving a text traveled to his ears.

Janet did not stop walking away from him, even as she furiously replied to the message.

The tear that held its position concealed by the ice-blue orbs that masqueraded as Angelo's eyes started the trek down his cheek. As a child, crying did not occur as often as it did since his return from the military.

He tilted his head downward as Janet quickened her gallop away from the promenade.

"Two tours in Afghanistan and this asshole called Angelo gets shot in the Philippines."

The grim-faced, dejected lover spoke to the scented ocean breeze concerning his wound.

"I guess a trip might be in order." He rose reaching with his left arm to rub his upper right chest. "Damn," pulling on the blue t-shirt sporting the double A logo of the 82nd Airborne Division, "it still hurts." Adjusting the loose blue jeans, he turned to begin the long walk home.

Wiping the excess moisture still residing on his cheek, he smirked and said. "Our love will grow." A short snort through his flexed nostrils preceded his thought.

Maybe she is right?

"Our love will grow."

The mile walk home would take as long as his desire wished. At twenty-five, jobless and living with his mother did not sit well with the one-time airborne infantryman. He needed to change his life with the speed Janet changed their relationship. Angelo thought of the advertisements scattered all about Manila. He paid no attention, thinking a life in America waited him after his enlistment ended. The idea did not occupy his plans for the future, though as Janet's informative lecture intensified it began to ripen.

China? Teach English? What the hell?

In Afghanistan, he learned to control the need to voice an important thought. Long-range reconnaissance missions would put the young soldier deep inside enemy territory. On occasion, he toted the heavy AIAX 300 Win mag. A sniper rifle loaned to certain American units. Looking through the NightForce riflescope information on distance, wind direction and size of obstacles or target needed to be correlated. The skill to calculate in silence became a habit.

Maybe I can straighten myself out?

The opportunity awaited him; he just required the courage. Angelo wondered if that aspect of his life had become overdrawn.

"I think some British general said in World War I," turning to aim his words at a row of blinking lights across the East River. "Courage is like a bank account." A slow smile took over his expression. "It can be overdrawn."

Walking in the direction of his mother's apartment, sighs and muffled laughs popped up at every street corner. Waiting for the light to change became a time to reflect.

"Am I an idiot?"

Standing on Court Street, he waited for the hustling vehicles zooming down Atlantic Avenue to take a breath. The light turned green.

"Our love will grow." He bellowed as he crossed the intersection. It did not cause a scene. The trumpeted statement took place in Brooklyn, an excellent area to air one's opinion in a loud voice. Not one of the passing pedestrians showed the slightest interest in the uncontrolled laughter from the young man. He had disappeared from their vision. He would intend to disappear from their world.


Note to reader:

I hope this chapter will merit a review, or two.

The main characters will be finding themselves in the thick of the story soon enough.