“Would you do it differently if you could go back in time?”
“No.” My response comes instantly. I repeat myself to drive the point home. “No.”
“Then why do you sound like you’re beating yourself up about it?”
“Because everyone treats me like I did something heroic by refusing to turn back, and that’s … that’s not what it was.”
I cup my hands and splash my face.
A few beats pass as I wait for Bailey to ask me what I mean, but she goes back to turning in the water, arching her slender neck back to dip her head into the chill.
“They train us differently for JTF2. Choose us differently. It’s more psychological, not just physical. We’re prepared differently. I have this strategy, a way I break things down in my head, and it works. I mean, of course, some of the shit I’ve seen has fucked me up, but it’s mostly manageable if I’m being honest.”
Bailey hums thoughtfully, trailing her fingers through the water. I don’t feel like she’s psychoanalyzing me, or judging me, or even trying to help me. She’s just here, listening.
Actually, as she picks a twig up off the surface of the creek and tosses it to the shore, I’m not even sure if she’s listening. But it’s better this way.
“I would lie in bed and force myself to think about all the worst outcomes while falling asleep. Like, the first time I would kill someone. I’d look at it, force myself to wallow in it for a minute, really feel it. And then I’d shift to thinking about how I’d cope with those feelings, where I’d tuck them away when it was time to move on. So many times I felt like I’d already faced something when it actually came. I think it desensitized me.”
“Shit, and here I was counting sheep.”
I huff out a laugh. Only Bailey.
“So I had this plan for myself. I programmed it in. Set it and forget it. I knew what I’d do if we found Micah Lane. I’d stop at nothing. I analyzed what I’d do—the actions I’d take—if I became a POW. I mean, shit,” I scrub at my hair, glancing around the peaceful riverbed. “I even made peace with dying. The prospect of death doesn’t bother me anymore. I don’t fear it. The cave—sure, it haunts me some days. But not the way people think. The worst part of it all is that for all my obsessive mental preparation, I never let myself analyze what it would feel like to be out, living life as a civilian. To be … ”
“Famous?” Bailey says it with a light giggle. Even she knows that’s a stretch.
I snort. “I doubt that’s the word for it.”
A grin stretches her lips. Only Bailey would smile after that story. “Infamous.”
I grimace. “Isn’t that kind of bad?”
Her finger shoots up. “Notorious!”
“Not that one either.”
“I got it … ” Her hands make a sweeping motion. “Legendary.”
I submerge my head underwater to keep from bursting out laughing.
When I come back up, she adds, “Fabled.”
“Jesus, Bailey.”
“Renowned. Famed. Celebrated!”
Now I do laugh. “I’m engaged to a thesaurus.”
The white of her teeth flashes at me. “Merriam-Webster is a way better nickname than sugar tits. Just saying.”
“Sorry, sugar. That one’s sticking.”
I see a shiver rack her body as she glances away for a beat. Maybe she’s cold, but this is nice, and I’m being greedy. I don’t want to get out of the water.
Bailey makes 2:11 better.
“So … ” Her attention is turned away, so I let myself soak her in. The elegance in the way she carries herself, the curve of her neck, the little divot above her upper lip. “You wake up at the same time every night because … ”
A heavy sigh rushes from me. “Therapist told me it’s because 2:11 is the visual representation of the choice that forever changed my life in ways I wasn’t prepared for. Every night I wake up and feel the fire on my feet. The burning is so hot it almost feels cold. I hear the rhythmical whipping sound of the Blackhawk blades overhead, and I feel a deep sense of knowing settling in my bones. Knowing that I’m not going to make it back on that transport. And even though I know it, I turn around to go get Micah, but when I do, all I see is endless, thick black. The kind that swallows you, the kind you get lost in forever. Every night I try to turn around and call out for them to wait for me, but it’s already pure darkness all around me. My purpose is gone.”