Page 45 of The Infinite Light of Dust

“Both.”

He closed his eyes, taking a couple of breaths. “How long have you known? You were my best friend and you didn’t say a word to me. After everything we’ve been through, you didn’t love me enough to tell me before I was humiliated.”

“I didn’t know either. No one did.”

“Everyone does now. And someone knew enough to tell me online. Can you imagine how embarrassing it was to find out on fucking Facebook? And to have to find a private who owed me a favor to go around stalking them to get proof?”

I immediately realized that the private was the one who’d sent the photo of Elodie and Fischer to everyone on Phillips’s orders. Probably some newly enlisted, easily scared punk.

“You took it too far by having someone follow her around. Why not have a conversation with your wife?”

He scoffed. “They took it too far by fucking behind my back.”

“Why would you tell everyone? Isn’t that more humiliating?” I circled around him.

His eyes followed me. “Too late for that. I was already humiliated, so they should be too. I had a feeling something was going on with her long before I got the Facebook message, but I needed to see it with my own eyes.”

“Unfortunately, Elodie was the only one who was hurt. Fischer couldn’t care less, which makes the whole thing pettier. Anyway, your wife cheated on you, so now what? You can’t control yourself so you spiral and get yourself in trouble, losing your career and fucking up your whole life?”

I did feel for him, and didn’t agree with the choices made by any of them, but honestly, this was the fucking military. Marriages without affairs or scandal were less common than with civilians, and I wasn’t going to feed into his pity party, especially when he had been treating Elodie like shit since he left and likely before. People were losing their lives around us; it was hard to find sympathy for him.

“That’s up to me.” He touched his chest, looking behind me to the wall. “I can’t stop being fucking livid about it.” He paused. “I don’t know what to do with my anger, Martin.”

“You transferred your war mentality to home. You’re so used to being on edge, checking your back all day, waiting to be attacked. When you found out about this, it gave you a new outlet. I’m sure it hurts like hell, but I’m begging you to try to look at it from above. Are you that desperately in love with her and honestly believe your marriage can be saved or would have been fine if this didn’t happen? Or are you used to mental chaos and now you’re transferring that emotion? Be honest with me, or at least yourself.”

I sat down on the couch, no longer wanting him to feel like a caged animal being taunted. I checked my phone to see if Karina had texted me since she’d gotten to work, but she hadn’t yet.

“My marriage was fucked from the beginning.”

“Maybe her relationship with Fischer gives you a proper reason to admit that and come to terms with it. You tried, she tried. I might sound like an asshole, but it’s better to get a divorce now than waste more time. People get divorced all the time.”

Phillips raised a brow at me and came to sit on the other side of the couch. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”

I couldn’t help the smile that took over my face. We were eighteen again and back in Afghanistan, sharing the snacks from my ma’s care package. He was different then; so was I. The harshness of our reality hadn’t developed yet. He was one of the only people I knew who could make me laugh. The memory became fuzzy around the edges, blurring into him holding a gun in Mendoza’s yard.

“It’s supposed to help you wake the hell up before you really do something you’ll regret. Comfort is a luxury that you and I can’t afford.”

He nodded, closing his eyes slightly. It seemed like he hadn’t slept since getting back to the States.

“Are you hungry?” I asked him, noting the shallow dips in his cheekbones.

“Actually, yeah, I’m fucking starving.”

I got up and he followed me into the kitchen. Pulling open the cabinets, I grabbed two ramen packs and a small pot.

“At least you still eat like a broke college kid,” Phillips said when I pulled a carton of eggs out of the fridge.

“Some things won’t ever change,” I offered, pointing for him to sit down while I made his food.

He was quiet, complimenting the progress on the place every few minutes. I was feeling extra-hospitable and chopped up some green onion and bacon to add. I grabbed a protein shake and slid it across the counter.

“You’re emaciated,” I told him.

He looked down at himself, seeming surprised. “I guess I am. I haven’t been eating or sleeping.”

I poured the noodles into a bowl and handed him a fork and a spoon. “I can tell.”

“Thanks for letting me in and listening to me, Martin. I thought you would tell me to fuck off or choke me again.” He laughed as he blew on the steam from the bowl.

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