Page 58 of Worth the Wait
When the corporal reached him, his face screwed up as if Nathan was already a disappointment.
“Name?”
“Carter, sir!”
“Sir?!”
“Corporal!” he corrected, too slow.
The man leant in, voice a quiet, venomous rasp, “We’ll break that Essex boy cheek out of you soon enough, kid.”
Nathan wanted to tell him there was nothing left to break. He’d broken a while back. Leaving Freddie behind with nothing but a half-kiss memory and a thousand regrets had killed any cheek. Now he had a baby on the way and a girl he didn’t want to touch trying to make them a proper family. And here he was, numbing himself.
But he swallowed it all. As he would every day for the next fifteen years.
Pack it down. Bury it deep.
Survive.
Second lesson: bite down. Keep breathing.
Later that night, lying on the hard mattress with the sound of other lads crying into their pillows, Nathan stared at the ceiling, fists curled tight over his chest, and not for the first time in the weeks leading up to being here, wondered if Freddie would eventually understand. Be proud, even.
He closed his eyes.
Dreamt of the sea, the pier, a kiss tasting of WKD and hope. And he let the loneliness harden into armour.
Third lesson: Show no signs of weakness.
It was stupid.
He knew it the second he did it.
Late one night, weeks into his training, lights-out already called, Nathan sat hunched over in his bunk, the glow of a smuggled torch tucked between his knees. Inserted between the pages of a battered book was a photo. Well, two photos. One of the latest scan of his baby. A boy. Due date looming. The other one, bent at the edges, faded from being thumbed over too many times, was of a different boy. One who’d battered his heart long before.
Freddie.
Smiling wide, hoodie half-zipped, cap backwards, holding up two fingers in a mock peace sign at the skatepark back home.
Home.
Nathan stared at it as if it could keep him tethered. As if it could stitch together all the parts of him the army hadn’t yet ground down. Meaning he didn’t hear the footsteps until it was too late.
“The fuck you lookin’ at, Carter?”
Nathan jolted. Turned. Slammed the book shut too late.
Private Keenan. Two bunks down. Big lad from Birmingham thought leadership came with throwing his weight around.
“That your boyfriend?” Keenan sneered loud enough for the others to hear. A few jeers sparked from the darkness. Mattresses creaked.
Nathan didn’t answer. He stood, slowly, heart hammering, trying to bury the flash of heat rising along his spine.
“Didn’t know we were training queers.” Keenan stepped closer. “Gonna be real popular in the showers, mate.”
Nathan’s fists clenched before his brain caught up.
Keenan laughed. So Nathan swung.
