Page 38 of Catfish

“Everything is alright,” he voices softly. “I’m fine.”

“Are you? Where are you now? When do you come home? Did you call Mama yet? Are you safe?”

“I’m safe,” he chuckles on the other side. “I’m very safe.”

“I can’t believe—” I shake my head and bite down on my lower lip. “That I’m talking to you right now. Is this real?”

It’s been over six months this time. Marty is stationed as a Marine in God knows where and, since he moves around a lot, doesn’t get to write much. He tells me there is no internet to email me and getting to a phone is rough.

He also doesn't like talking about his position, so I don't ask. Besides, we never have more than a few minutes to speak, and there's no point spending it on things we have no control over.

However, it still leaves that posing question on when he’s coming home looming in my head.

All the time.

“Believe it, Rea, I’m here. Well, as here as I can be right now.”

“It is so amazing to hear your voice. You have no idea—none. I miss you so fucking much.”

"I miss you so fucking much," he croons with a weak chuckle. "I don't have much time, but I wanted to check in on you and Ma. You're the lesser of the two criers, so I chose you to call."

A broken chuckle breaks through my lips. “Yeah, you chose right. Mama is fine...umm...her last chemo treatment is Thursday. I’m going to go to Riverview in two days to visit.”

“Don’t tell her you spoke to me,” he alludes. “She’ll kill me for not calling.”

I nod, even though he can’t see it. “I won’t, I promise. I’ll give her a hug for you too.”

“Make sure it’s a big one.” Another nod from me and the phone falls silent for a moment before he speaks again. “I don’t know, Tsarina. I’m hoping soon.”

I clench my teeth together to keep myself from breaking apart on the phone.

He already knows I want to ask—when is he coming home?

How I’ve accepted those same words a million times over because that’s all he ever has for me.

Marty never knows when they’ll let him come home or deploy him back to the States. Doesn’t know when his assignment will be up. He sacrifices his life every day and still managed to pull me out of the clutches of the mess I got myself into with my ex-fiancé, Grant.

Recalling moments of how pissed he was when I told him crash into my brain.

He thought I did it out of love.

That I was happy.

I did it because the measly paycheck he sent to Mama every month didn't even pay the mortgage.

We were drowning in red notices, and my minimum wage job at the time barely put food on the table. But his healthcare took care of her primary doctor visits, some of her medication, and ER visits.

I took care of everything else.

“Are you staying out of trouble?” There’s that authoritative tone that I love and can’t stand.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” I contest. “I promised.”

I promised, and that meant everything in the world to both of us.

The most expensive thing in the world.

It couldn't be stolen or bartered with, it was trust wrapped with a bow, and it made breathing easier.

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