The Secret Of Us

Chapter Six

I grew up in a military community, surrounded by the sight of uniforms and crew cuts and the sound of planes buzzing the skyline. The lifestyle was one I grew accustomed to, the ever-changing sea of people in my life a testament to the fluidity of the military, while I remained static. People were there one day and gone the next – sometimes without warning or explanation, sometimes for short blocks of time, sometimes permanently.

It all came with the territory, and I’d learned to roll with the punches.

Growing up around all of that prepared me for Matt and everything that his own military career entailed. He was sent on deployments so frequently that his days home were far outnumbered by his days away. Still, though, I always knew when it was coming. When Matt left, it was usually planned, expected, and definable. He’d never had to leave suddenly or without notice, never had to go somewhere that he couldn’t discuss.

I knew he had an upcoming deployment, and part of me was glad that he would be away for those few months.

It would give us some time apart, provide some space for me to think without it being a question of avoidance. It would grant me a reprieve from the façade I was so desperately trying to maintain.

During the five months between our kiss and Matt’s deployment, we continued to see each other regularly, to do things together just as we always had.

But there was always an underlying current of pretense, an unspoken barrier that had never been there before now.

We avoided the topic of what had happened between us as though it was forbidden, a strange source of shame. I wondered sometimes what would happen if I broached the subject, if I asked him if anything had changed. If he ever thought about that night with anything other than regret.

My tenacity was diminished in the face of this – this fear. That’s what it really was, if I was honest with myself.

I was afraid.

Afraid of losing him.

Afraid to let go of the tight control I’d kept on my heart, in case letting go meant realizing that it had been crushed to pieces.

A more “modern-thinking” woman might have been able to view our kiss with cool detachment, writing it off as a failed experiment – but for me, kissing had always been far too intimate a gesture to be passed out willy-nilly at the end of a date. Matt had known this – had always known this – which made the fact that he had finally made the first move so much more significant to me. And why I’d been struggling so much to let go of it.

The day of Matt’s upcoming deployment was circled on my calendar in red, an inky reminder that there was an end in sight, even if it was only a temporary one. Maybe then I’d be able to take a step back and regain some sense of control. I watched time dwindle as that circled date approached, a strange mix of relief and dread filling me every time I crossed through the calendar days.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so alone, so at a loss as to what to do.

I had friends that knew both of us, obviously, but none of them were close enough for me to lean on. Which also meant that none of them knew me on a deep enough level for me to trust them with such confidences as this.

It was times like this that I lamented my lack of having a sister nearby – or, at least a close female friend. Which was another reason that the whole situation with Matt was so hard to deal with. He was my best friend, my closest ally.

My confidante.

And everything I was struggling with was related to him and our relationship.

I drove him to the airport the morning of his deployment, wondering what would happen between now and when I picked him up again, ninety days from this moment.

Would he change his mind and realize that he loved me and was in love with me?

Would he come home and want to start a life with me?

Would I, in the meantime, be able to decide that I was going to move on to a life without him, or would I be able to satisfy myself with friendship?

So many questions and emotions crowded my mind that the trip to the airport passed in thick silence, and when Matt walked through the sliding doors of the airport’s main entrance, I felt something break. Every brick I’d had so firmly in place for the last five months crumbled into dust, and there was nothing left for me to do but cry.

He’d asked me, his friend, to take him to the airport and drop him off. No parking, no long goodbye, no loitering outside the security gate while he wound through the throng of travelers lined up to go through all the checkpoints and x-rays.

Just drop him off.

I could do that, right?

Of course I could, or so I thought. We were friends.

Which was why I was now sitting in my car, falling apart at the seams.

I had the next ninety days to figure out my life, but I had no idea if anything would change.

Or even how it needed to change.

All I knew was that I was miserable, and I was alone, and I needed not to be.

I needed my mother.

I reached into my glove box and rummaged around for some tissues to wipe my soggy face. No doubt there was mascara running rampant streaks down my cheeks, but at the moment, all I really cared about was talking to my mother. My wise, loving, understanding mother, who would have the answers I was looking for.

My mother, who still didn’t know about the kiss.

I hadn’t told her for fear of what she’d say. My relationship with Matt had been a bone of contention between us – not because she had anything against him, but because she knew how much of myself I’d invested and didn’t want to see me hurt. Sometimes mothers know too much, even when they don’t know everything. They know you well enough to read between the lines and see that your heart is on the line, even when you’re too blind to see the danger you’re rushing headlong into.

I knew how much she wanted to see me happy, but I also knew how she felt about my continuing such a close relationship with Matt, despite the fact that he’d told me it would never be more than friendship.

Despite that fact that I was in love with him and wanted more.

Despite the fact that she’d advised me on countless occasions to end it before my heart was smashed to smithereens. All of which explained and – in my way of thinking, at least – necessitated my withholding the details of the night that Matt and I had kissed.

For all she knew, nothing had changed between the two of us.

For all intents and purposes, that was true – we were still nothing more than friends.

Now, though, there was also a huge complication that was making everything even more painful than it had previously been.

It was torturous.

I felt like I’d walked across broken bottles on numb feet and had no idea when I would regain sensation. All that was certain was the fact that when I did, the pain would be excruciating.

There was nothing left to do but tell her.

It wasn’t like it could really make things any worse, could it? Sure, she would probably tell me that I should have known better and kept better guard of my heart, but I also knew she wouldn’t lord it over me just for the sake of making me miserable. She was my mother. She loved me, and all she really wanted was the best for me.

I pulled my phone from the purse on the seat beside me and stared at it for a moment, trying to find the words I was going to need. I shook my head at my own foolishness. There was no way I would really be able to prepare for this phone call. I was just going to have to suck it up and do it.

In the end, it was the best thing. I needed support and advice, and there was no better source for that than my own mother.

I guess you never really do outgrow that need, do you?

“Hi, babydoll, what’s up?” my mother said breezily when she answered.

“Oh, you know. Stuff,” I hedged, wondering how I was going to ease into this one.

“Stuff?” her voice was laden with skepticism.

She knew me well enough to read every nuance in my words, no matter how subtle I thought it was. The woman was truly superhuman.

“Uh huh. Stuff. Lots of stuff,” I said heavily, a sigh escaping unbidden. I closed my eyes and leaned forward to rest my forehead on the steering wheel. “I just dropped Matt at the airport. Actually, I’m still at the airport.” I sniffled and dabbed my runny nose with my already damp tissue.

“How long is he going to be gone?” she asked.

She knew how this worked; my parents were no strangers to the military machine. My father had retired after more than twenty years in the Air Force, and she had been with him for the majority of his career. My mother could easily sympathize with my concern for Matt and the feelings that came along with his absence.

“Ninety days,” I said flatly. “The usual. So,” I breathed, still not ready to dive into why I was actually calling. “How are you and Dad?” I was quite aware that my feeble attempt at evasion was transparent, but I was hoping my mother would take the hint and allow me some room to ease into things.

“We’re fine, just fine. Your father’s out washing the car, and I’ve just put the meat on for the spaghetti. We’re staying busy, I guess. But never too busy to have you up here for a nice long visit, if you ever find the time,” she hinted.

“Mama, you’re as subtle as a two-by-four,” I said, laughing.

“One of the many reasons you love me,” she replied, the smile evident in her voice.

“Yes, one of the many,” I echoed, realizing that I was going to have to talk.

Now or never. I sucked in a deep breath and held it.

“As is your wise counsel, which is actually why I’m calling,” I said as I released the breath.

“Ah hah,” she said soberly. “So tell me, honey. What’s really going on?”

I straightened in my seat and shifted my gaze to the headliner of the car, wishing there were words up there to read. It would have made things so much simpler.

“Matt and I kissed, Mom,” I blurted.

There was silence on the other end of the line as she processed the information I’d just imparted. I knew she would be choosing her words carefully, but I also knew she would be completely honest with me. She was one of the few people I knew would give me the unvarnished truth, and that was what I needed right now.

“I was wondering if that might not have happened yet. When?” she asked.

“Five months ago. It wasn’t planned. At least, not for me,” I replied. “It kind of just… happened,” I finished lamely. I realized how cliché I sounded, but it was true.

It had just happened.

“And then?”

“And then, we acted as though nothing happened. Or, at least, as much as we could. It’s there, now, though, and we both know it’s there. It’s like this big elephant in the room; there’s a palpable difference in our relationship. We do things together, just like always, Mom, but,” I paused, shaking my head. “It’s not the same. We’re not the same,” I sighed.

“How could you be?” she asked, reasonably. “He knew how seriously you take your relationship, and he knows the way you feel about him. It’s a mighty risky thing to do, Eira, for someone who thought it wasn’t going to go anywhere.”

I traced the seams on my steering wheel with my index finger, wondering what I was doing, where all of this would lead. I felt like I was on a runaway rollercoaster.

“I guess I was just deluding myself in believing that maybe we would be able to have a life together. A real life together,” I explained.

“You were hoping that Matt would open his eyes and finally see you.”

“Ludicrous, wasn’t it?” I barked out a little laugh of self-ridicule. I knew how stupid it sounded, how childish and naïve.

Maybe that was my problem.

Maybe that was the way Matt saw me, as a hopelessly naïve child.

“No, Eira, it wasn’t ludicrous. It was optimistic and romantic, and both of those things are traits I hope you never lose. Life has quite a way of jading people until they believe that real, selfless love isn’t possible, and that it’s not even worth the risk to try and find it. They won’t even admit it, but they’re afraid of the complications that love will have on their lives. People want everything to be perfectly definable and all wrapped up in a nice little box, and love isn’t like that. It’s messy. It’s complicated. It’s painful. Anything involving other people is like that, and when you open your heart, you make yourself vulnerable. Vulnerability is also a liability in many people’s eyes. A weakness. And so they run from it.” My mother sounded almost sad as she spoke, her insight obviously drawn from experience.