Page 4 of Lust in Translation

Even though my grip is firm, his is tighter and he doesn’t release me quickly. His comrades standing behind him chuckle and pretend to be oblivious. “And your name is?” I say, meeting his firm gaze.

Laughing, and without letting go of my hand, he replies, “You have a lot to learn, Simmons.” He points to the name tag on his chest.

“Oh, I saw it. I read it. Wasn’t sure if you’d remember it was there,” I say, swallowing hard. Take that. “Long,” I say the name on his nametag. “I am in the business of teaching.” I shrug. “Wasn’t sure how smart you were if you’re failing your language tests.” If the SEALs are proficient in languages, they get extra language pay. Every so often they have to take a written and oral test to continue receiving the extra pay. I’ll be the one issuing the tests.

Long releases my hand. “Feisty, huh? I like it.”

“I have an appointment,” I say. “It was enlightening meeting you.” I peer around his shoulder to the men standing behind him. “You guys, too. Have a great day.”

“I’ll see you around,” Long seethes, not hiding his appraisal—gaze flicking over every curve of my body.

I catch my breath in the ID office, and like Margaret said, I wait another ten minutes before the woman behind the computer is ready to take my photo and print my new credentials. She hands me back the identification I gave her earlier and my new civilian badges. I get back to my office and mull over the conversation with Long. Will they all be so annoying and forward? What armor should I wear to protect against it? Humor or bitchy indifference? Am I ready to deal with that every day? What the hell will Adam think when I tell him? I won’t tell him, I decide. He doesn’t need to know details of my career, just that I’m happy doing what I’ve been trained to do. I turn on the large computer on my desk and type in the passcodes to log me into the system I’m expected to use to record my students’ progress and detail my lesson plans.

A chime alerts me to an email from Margaret. It’s a note giving me more details about what to expect from my day-to-day schedule. I learn that Margaret loves to send email memos throughout working hours and expects me to respond to them in haste. Between that and planning next week’s curriculum, the day passes in an eye blink.

I haven’t thought of anything except the tasks at hand, and I mentally chastise myself for waiting this long to get back out in the world—to live. Grief is odd. It doesn’t follow a timeline. It writhes in dark corners and appears when you least expect it. Maybe this job will shine like a lighthouse so nothing can lurk in the shadows, waiting to attack. I already feel lighter than I have in months, and my mood will reflect as such. I should pick up ingredients to make Adam’s favorite dinner, rather, what used to be his favorite dinner.

My right hand is scratching a short list of items I need from the grocery store as I close my office door for the night, when I turn around, head still down writing, I run into someone.

“I apologize, I wasn’t paying attention,” I huff out, bending to pick up my pen. I’m met with combat boots. Big ones. The legs are in uniform, and I glance up to meet his eyes.

“No fucking way,” he says, shaking his head.

I stand, tuck my notepad and pen into my purse, as my smirk turns into a full-blown smile. Teeth and all. It brings to mind the Bronze Bay beach, his sun-kissed skin, and his brown eyes pleading with me. My mind filled with the way he apologized for his actions. His eyes, his words, everything begged for my forgiveness. That apology fueled the return of our secret friendship that continued until the night before he left Florida for this base.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” I say, hitting him on the shoulder. “Aidan would have a cow. How have you been, Callaway?”

Leo. My friend.

Leo. A reminder of home.

Leo. Peace.

“Long said there was a new hottie over in the admin building, and I had to come see for myself. Never in a million years did I think it would be you.”

“How well do you know that guy? He’s a real…charmer,” I reply, voice laden in sarcasm. “Lacks basic conversational skills,” I add. Looking at Leo, a friend from a long time ago, makes my chest bloom with warmth. He comes from an uncomplicated time before I moved away from Bronze Bay, Florida, to go to Boston College. I met Leo down at the beach when he was stationed at the SEAL base there. Our friendship was only odd because I was still in high school. He was nineteen and fresh out of SEAL training, BUD/S I was a senior, enamored by the attention of an older guy.

He never pushed the boundaries of our friendship because he knew that my stepdad, a superior to him, would have been furious. More furious than he was about our platonic friendship. Leo and I talked. A lot. About everything. He was homesick for Cape Cod and I was confused as my Mom began dating again after my father had an affair. It was a time in my life that was equal parts confusing as it was enlightening. I learned a lot about myself. I think Leo did as well.

He steps back, shaking his head. “Time’s been good to you, Kid,” Leo says, biting the corner of his lip. “Don’t worry about Long, he won’t be a fuckwat again. I promise.” There’s a fire in his eyes when he says the last sentence, and it makes my stomach flip.

Just like that, I’m transported back to the time when I pined for him behind closed doors, and he didn’t give me the time of day. Not in the romantic way, at least. Except now, everything is changed. I look down and away. “Thanks. It doesn’t feel that way sometimes,” I say, being far too honest. “I’m not a kid anymore, by the way, Callaway,” I add in a lighter tone.

“You’ll always be a kid to me,” he says, winking. He’s a winker. How could I forget. Groaning, I roll my eyes.

“Look, rolling your eyes. Just like an angry teenager.” Leo points at my face.

“I’m married now,” I fire off, hands on hips. The statement feels like the most relevant thing to mention in the moment.

“I know,” he replies, no hesitation.

That takes me aback. How does he know?

“I went to the Bronze Bay base for a retirement ceremony last year. The only thing that town is good for is gossip and heat. I think it was less than an hour after my feet touched land that I knew you were married with a baby on the way, your mom had a mid-life crisis and a newborn, the lady at the general store had an affair with the mayor, and I was sweating like a whore in church.” Leo taps his chin, screwing up his face in thought. “Did I miss anything? I don’t think so.”

My stomach lurches. The only thing worse than losing Noel is telling people who don’t know I lost her that I’m childless. Over and over I’m forced to relive the heartbreak. Leo is about to say something when I cut him off, “I lost the baby. She’s no longer with us. Stillborn.”

His eyes widen, and there’s this heavy silence that always follows where the other person isn’t sure what to say, and I’m not sure how to look, so we end up staring at each other, absorbing the awkwardness of the moment. It makes it that much more painful. It’s not right now, though. Not with Leo. He pulls me into a hug and I go willingly.

---