Page 14 of Lust in Translation

“Since you’re an expert in psychology and medicine, tell me how straightforward it is.” I quirk one brow.

Leo presses his lips together, eyes dancing over my face and chest. “I don’t know the woman you are now. I know the woman you were years ago, and that woman would pick herself up and move the fuck on. You almost died in a fire. Remember that?”

I could never forget it. I was a mere minute away from death when Aidan rescued me, leaving my mother in the burning antique store. I run a hand over my forehead. The memory is foggy, but the aftermath is vividly clear. The sacrifice. The shift of priorities on every single front in my life. “Aidan didn’t save you so you could live a half fucking life. He didn’t pull you out of a burning building while the woman he loved laid on the floor so you could waste your happiness. You need a little perspective, that’s all. Horrible things happen to all of us. Those things don’t define us. How we move on after defines us. You know the loss of Noel wasn’t your fault. You’ve grieved, have you not? You said you were over the loss of her. What is holding you up?”

“Yes, but you can’t put a timeline on the grieving process, Leo.”

He shrugs. “You do when it affects you like this.” Leo runs a hand through his hair and looks pained. “I’ve lost brothers. So many that if you asked me how many, I’d have to pause to count. Every single time it hurts a little worse—cuts a little deeper, wears me down to the bone. My little sister died. Look at me.”

I don’t want to, but I do.

“She died. I know what grieving feels like. I know the dark places it takes you. The words that the heavy black whispers when the only thing you want is a fucking shard of light—no matter how small it may be. The heavy black lies. Trust me. You have to trust me.”

All of the hours spent talking to the therapist and to Adam have never embalmed this reprieve on my soul. Never once have I felt as if someone understood the heavy black I live inside of. Tears prick my eyes as I keep my gaze locked on Leo.

Blinking to keep composure, I reply, “How do you chase it away?” I whisper “The heavy black.” The pragmatic direction of his sentiment hits me square in the chest. No one is straightforward like this anymore. Everyone dances around the obvious, never thinking the simple form of recovery could blossom from truth.

Leo clears his throat, suddenly uncomfortable with how personal we’ve gotten. “You chase it away with life. Life. Living. Not letting it have another second.”

If only it were that easy. If depression were a switch, everyone would be happy, and it would never exist. No one voluntarily exists in the heavy black prison. “I hope to do that one day.” This morning I felt on top of the world, but I now realize I can’t heal with false actions.

He leans back and props one foot on his knee. “What makes you happy?”

I laugh a short burst of hysteria. “I don’t know.”

“What used to make you happy?” Leo asks.

It takes a second to switch gears and recall actual happiness. “Animals?”

“Is that a question?” Leo quirks a brow.

I bite my lip. “Adam and I wanted to get a cat, but I was pregnant and the whole toxoplasmosis fear with the litter box halted that plan.”

“Okay, so why don’t you have a cat now?” Leo asks, tugging at the collar of his uniform.

Margaret’s voice startles both of us from the doorway and I jump. Leo merely turns his head. “Lunchtime,” she says.

“How’s it going?” Margaret is wearing a drab wool dress and bright yellow pumps. It’s confusing, but I support it. Someone knows how to insert cheer into her world.

I straighten my back, feeling caught in a moment of less-than-professional behavior. “It’s going very well, Madam,” Leo says in Spanish.

Margaret cackles. Leo even had good pronunciation, too. “Very well. Break time.”

I nod at my boss, and try my best to avoid Leo’s piercing gaze.

“I’ll grab the usual,” I say, walking back to my desk. “Anything for you, Callaway?”

He stands, grabbing his tablet. “No thanks. I have an errand to run, actually. I might not be back in time. Don’t start without me.” He winks slyly and slips past Margaret and disappears into the hallway.

Margaret tells me to grab extra hot sauce, like she does every day, and then tells me the other SEAL who is supposed to be in my class will be back in a few days. Medical cleared him to return because he’s no longer contagious, but he’s still feeling crummy. The flu this year has been brutal. I guess it’s been ripping through the state. The personal conversations between Leo and myself will come to a bleeding halt when he returns. It’s a relief, but it’s also tinged with a bit of disappointment.

I drive off base and don’t really recall the drive to the restaurant because I was thinking about cats. It’s nice. I feel happier.

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