Page 23 of Desolation

My thoughts start to lead to Marianne. That hot as fuck Latina woman that I met at the VA hospital. I know those tits were real. Everything about her body was real and I would have liked to take that for a ride. My dick stiffens as I think about that ass, how it swayed when she walked. My mind drifts to her face. Her gorgeous eyes, her flawless smile. The way her slightly crooked nose just made her look more perfect. Too bad she was only passing through.

I spend an hour with Jimmy at the strip club before I tell him I am heading out. This isn’t doing it for me. My dick is more than happy right now but it’s all because of a woman I won’t see again.

I drive the twenty minutes home hoping my dick will calm down but it doesn’t. That woman is imprinted in my brain.

By the time I get home my balls are so damn tight I jump in the shower and jerk off to the thought of her. Knowing those plump lips know how to kiss. Wondering how she tastes. How tight that pussy would feel wrapped around my dick. If I had her, I know it would be perfection. I felt it when I touched her. That tiny zap of electricity that most guys would play off as static electricity. No this was something different. I know she felt it too. I could tell by the way she stiffened, how she always tried to move away from me. She felt the charge running through us and it scared her. I’m damn good at reading people and I could tell by the look in her eyes.

I find my release as I come all over the wall of the shower. I close my eyes as I brace my hands against the wall letting the hot water loosen the muscles in my back.

Maybe there is such a thing as fate and we will see each other again.

Chapter Nine

Landon

I sip on a cup of iced tea, not Mr. Cartwell’s special kind, as we sit on the pier watching the sunset. I got permission from the staff and his family to drive him to the pier near Scripps whenever he wants to go. I should be stricter on his consumption of “iced tea” but he’s an old man. He has lived a long time. And in many conversations, I have had with him at this pier he tells me how he just wants to get home to the good Lord to see his Adaline.

Most people think he is a curmudgeon but I know deep down he is sad and he misses the love of his life.

“Boy, did you ever go to that therapist of yours?”

If he ever calls me Landon, I think I might literally shit myself. “Not in a while.”

He sips his whiskey as he studies me. The wrinkles around his eyes deep and prominent match the ones across his forehead and around his mouth. His gray hair is still full, almost resembling Einstein as it blows in the cool breeze. His eyes show his wisdom and his age more than anything else. I watch him as he watches me. As if he can look into my soul with one deep penetrating gaze.

“You know I am an old man. And I might not know much about you young kids and your shenanigans. But I know about war. I know the toll it takes on people. I know how it feels when you lose someone and you blame yourself. I know the empty feeling in the deepest part of your bones and all you want is to drown in it. None of that changes over the years. We are all still human, boy. We all feel the same shit at some point in our lives.

“But you’re not getting any better. I can see it in those dark eyes of yours. They still have the same ghosts haunting them that were haunting them back when I first met you. I’m not your therapist. Shit, you never even told me much about your past. But I see it, boy. I can see the pain you live with every single day. I can see it festering in you, feeding off you, tearing you apart. And you let it. You never fight it. If I let those demons eat away at me, I wouldn’t be sitting across from you right now. I wouldn’t be having this conversation. Do what you want. But trust me when I say you’ll never be happy unless you face them head on.”

I swallow down the rest of my tea and look out toward the setting sun. It’s just cresting the top of the water making a brilliant display of pinks and oranges as it descends to sleep.

I think about Mr. Cartwell’s words. He’s right. I am letting everything inside of me fester. I let it eat away at me because it’s the only way I feel anything. Losing Sam was the worst thing that happened to me behind losing my mom. But with my mom, I couldn’t help her. I wasn’t even home in Tennessee, I was overseas fighting for my country.

But I was there when Sam was shot. I was the one who carried him back to the bird. I held his body together while we flew to a medic. I watched the light slowly fade from his eyes. His goofy grin slipping away from his face. I watched his wife fall apart in my arms when he finally passed. I watched it all yet when I think about it, all I feel is an emptiness inside.

But when I let my anger toward myself fester and build and eat away at my self-control, I can finally feel. And that’s all I want is to feel again. Feel something other than anger or emptiness. Sometimes I feel a tiny jolt in my heart when I am hanging out with Mr. Cartwell. Like he can bring back the life that should be inside of me. But it doesn’t last long. Most of the time I feel like I imagined it.

I look over at him with his smug smile on his face as he watches the sun set into darkness. This is his favorite thing to do. I try to bring him here once a week if I am able. Considering I don’t have much of a life I usually am. I know it’s what he looks forward to most every week. Not the chess or the banter between us. But the calmness of the water. Much like me, the smell of salt in the air brings him peace.

He told me once that he can hear his wife’s voice in the wind when we come here. It was their favorite thing to do. He proposed here. They got married here. They even lived down the road right on the water their entire marriage.

Somedays I wonder if when we sit here this will be his end. If he comes here every week hoping he will pass where he is most happy.

It pains me to think it but deep down I know it’s true. Just like he can see into my soul, I am positive I can see into his.

A lone tear falls down his cheek as the sun makes its final descent. I grab his hand and he doesn’t pull away. And I know what I believe is true.

* * *

I pour myself a second cup of coffee and head out to my balcony. I still have time before I head into the office and I need to relax as much as possible. Two days of reading through documents full of gibberish was exhausting. David said we could try out his software today and see if it works. I am hoping it gives us a break and we can do other things while it scans the intel.

The strip club on Monday did nothing to help my brain. But yesterday’s evening at the pier with Mr. Cartwell made a big difference. I even thought about calling my therapist this morning. But that’s all it was... a thought. Baby steps. Maybe next week I will pick up the phone. I can’t guarantee I’ll dial though.

I watch the waves roll in as his words resonate in my brain when my phone rings. Fuck. I forgot to call Ryder back the other day.

“Sup, bro?”

“Hey Landon. How are you?”

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