“No, they went home. I said bye to them before you picked me up.”
After the driver drops us off at our house, we go inside and change and then head over to my parents’ place to pick up RJ. My mom had texted he’s close to falling asleep but is still awake for the moment.
When we walk inside, my mom’s gaze goes straight to my left hand. “Let me see!” she gushes, grabbing my fingers and bringing them up in front of her face. “Oh, Ryan.” She sighs. “You did good.” I figured she knew what was going to go down since she’s the reason I was pampered today.
“Congratulations, Son,” Dad says, stepping into the room with RJ in his arms.
“Have you guys thought about when you want to get married?” Mom asks, hearts shining in her eyes. She’s not the biggest girly-girl, but she, like any woman, loves a good wedding, and since Ian and I got married on the whim, she’s probably hoping this one will be more traditional.
“As soon as possible,” Ryan says, sliding his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side.
“I was actually thinking a beach wedding. At the beach house where it all started. Maybe later this summer.” I glance up at Ryan, who nods and smiles.
“Whatever you want is fine with me.” He presses his lips to mine.
“That sounds perfect,” Mom says. “Think about the date and then we’ll get to planning.”
I take RJ from my dad, and after saying our goodbyes, we head home. I give him a bottle, then Ryan gives him a bath, while I take a quick shower. When I come out, RJ is fast asleep in his crib. Gently, I kiss him good night, then head out to the living room to join Ryan.
“I was thinking of the first weekend in August,” I tell him. “My brother and sister won’t be back in school yet, so they’ll be able to join us for a long weekend.”
Ryan pulls out his phone and scrolls through his calendar. His hands still, and his mouth contorts into a frown.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “I know you said as soon as possible, but we’re going to need a couple months to get—”
“No, it’s not that,” he says, cutting me off. “These last few weeks, since I came home…” He sets his phone down to give me his attention, and a horrible foreboding feeling comes over me. Maybe it’s the way he’s staring at me with such serious eyes, or the way his tone is lacking all emotion, but something tells me whatever he’s about to say is something I’m not going to like.
“What?” I push. “The last few weeks, what?”
“We’ve been in this bubble… I knew you didn’t want to talk about what happened in Afghanistan…” He twists his body, so he’s completely facing me.
“Well, of course I didn’t want to,” I admit. “You almost died. Who the hell wants to talk about that?” I cross my arms over my chest in an attempt to somehow protect myself.
“But now we have to,” he says solemnly. “I used some of my leave I’ve accumulated to spend time with you and RJ when I got back, but next week I go back.”
My heart stills. “Go back where?” I ask slowly.
“To work. I’m active military.” He moves to grab my hand, but I back up before he can. “Micaela…”
His eyes lock with mine, silently begging me to understand. And I do… I knew this. I might’ve ignored it, swept it all under a rug, but deep down I knew Ryan returning home wasn’t the end of his military duties. I don’t know enough about the military or his situation to know how he was able to come home and be with us for as long as he has been, and at the time I didn’t want to know. I still don’t. Ignorance is bliss, and all that jazz.
But now, as I watch our perfect little bubble explode, exposing us to the reality of our situation, it hits me: I’m engaged to a man in the military. A man who spends more time gone than at home.
He’s going to leave us.
Go back to Afghanistan…
Or worse.
And while he’s doing that, I’ll be doing what? Staying home and praying for him to return safely? My thoughts go back to the letter in my purse, the one I folded up and pushed to the bottom, in an effort to remain in our comfy bubble. Only that bubble burst anyway. Because you can’t hide from reality. And the reality is, Ryan’s life, his dreams, his world is the military. Which leads me to ask myself the question: why am I not chasing my own dreams?
“I can’t do this.” I stand, knocking into the coffee table.
He stands as well, his eyes widening in fear. “You can’t do what?”
I walk around the table and he meets me on the other side. “Micaela, please. Listen to me. My job in the military isn’t what you’re thinking. I’m not risking my life. I work a regular nine to five job. I go in around seven for PT, which is pretty much working out. After I shower, I report to work. Then, at the end of the day, I come home. I even have off weekends.”
“But you’re still active, so at any time they can make you go overseas. You can be put in a situation like in Afghanistan where you’re risking your life… where there’s a chance you can die.”
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and I know I have my answer.
My heart, that felt like it was finally healing, is now being shattered all over again, and I’m not sure if it will be possible for it to ever be put back together again.
I glance down at my ring, and Ryan steps toward me, snatching my hand. “No, don’t do this,” he commands. He takes my chin between his fingers and tilts my face to look at him. “Please don’t fucking do this.”
“I have to,” I choke out, peeling my hand out of his. I remove the ring from my finger and place it into his palm, closing his fingers around it. “When we were at the beach house, you told me to follow my dreams.”
I go to my purse and grab the letter from the University. “My dreams are in San Diego. I pushed them aside while we were living in our bubble, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t give up my dreams, so I can watch as you risk your life while you follow yours.”
I hand him the letter, but I don’t wait for him to read it. Instead, I go to my room to pack a bag, then go to RJ’s room to pack him one. I know I’m being a coward and running, but I can’t stay here, knowing we can’t be together.
“Don’t do this,” he begs, joining me in RJ’s room. “We can figure it out together.” His voice is gruff, filled with emotion, and I’m afraid to look at him. If he’s crying, I don’t know what I’ll do.
“Figure what out?” I shove RJ’s clothes into the luggage. “I’ve always wanted to live on the beach, study the ocean and marine life. Your job is here, working for the military. Going overseas and risking your life.”
“Where are you going?” he asks, grabbing my bicep to stop me.
“To my parents’.”
Ryan entwines his fingers in my hair and tilts my face up to look at him. “This isn’t over. I’m letting you go for now because I don’t want to fight with you, especially not in front of our son. But we’re going to figure this out. I’m not letting either of you go.”