Page 22 of Jessica and the Jarhead
She stepped towards me.
“Not that bad!”
She took another step.
“You stepped on a bear trap!”
She was almost to me by now and I could feel my heart rate picking up at her proximity and wrath.
“I didn’t get everything out when I cleaned it!”
She reached me and shoved her finger in my face.
“Your fever was so high and I had nothing to give you! I had to watch you fall to the ground in pain! I had to hear you scream!”
Her breath hitched a moment, like she was holding back tears.
“Do you have any idea how scared I was? I never wanted to know the color of your blood against the snow.” Her voice hitched, and she stopped to collect herself. Tears rimmed her bloodshot eyes. “For a moment before you called out to me, I thought I’d lost you forever.”
She crumpled before me. Her knees hit the ground with a heavy thud. She was weeping in earnest now. I didn’t think. I just reached for her and pulled her into my lap and into my arms. Her great, wracking sobs vibrated through me.
“I didn’t die. I’m right here.”
She nodded her head, but didn’t respond in any other way. I ran my hands along her back and let her cry. I didn’t know what to say to that. If she had been the one to be injured, would I have kept me cool? Would I have been able to keep it together long enough to get her to safety and treat her injuries? I wanted to think that I would, after all, I’d had tons of training and opportunity to practice, but I’d never had to witness the love of my life bleeding and injured and helpless so maybe I wouldn’t be as strong as she was.
“I will be ok,” I said to cover my sudden anxiety over the images now playing through my head and thewhat-if’sthat plagued me. That small glimpse into the pain and anxiety she must have been feeling was staggering.
“I know.” She buried her head in my neck and clung tight to my shirt.
We sat there and just held each other for a long time before she finally pulled away.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she wiped her eyes.
“Never apologize for that.” I reached up and traced a tear she had missed. “Never apologize for seeking comfort in my arms.”
She just looked at me, her cheeks pink, and her eyes red.
“Jessica, whatever nonsense is going through your head right now about my injury, banish it. I got hurt. I get hurt a lot. It’s part of my job and it isn’t your fault. It is never your fault that bad things happen. Bad things aren’t a sign from god, or the universe, or fate. The only thing this injury is a sign of is that your grandparents were worried about bears and no one clearedthe old traps. That’s it. I will make your happiness my goal, but you have to accept that bad things happen.”
By the time I finished, she sat up and was looking at me with a smile on her face and hope in her eyes.
“I know.” She looked like she was going to say something more, so I let her gather her thoughts. “I’ve been in therapy for years. It took a long time to unravel all the convoluted and messed up shit from my childhood.” She looked away from me and then looked back. “My therapist told me when I started with her that healing isn’t linear and I don’t think I understood what that meant. I’m sorry I tried so hard to push you away. Being here — seeing you — it was a lot.”
I rubbed her thighs and let her process whatever was going on in her head.
“She had me do these exercises where I pictured a younger version of myself and try to give her whatever she needs, whatever she — I didn’t get before. Yesterday, while you were out, I thought back to 18-year-old me, the one that was heartbroken and firmly believed she had to let you go so you could be happy and well. It helps to picture comforting myself. I don’t know, it’s weird.”
“No, if it works, it’s not weird.” I ran my fingers through her hair to reassure her, and to just touch her, every part of her.
“Thank you for that. I’m sorry I ever did it. When I got back from prom and my mom had left to be with my dad, it just cemented in my head that anytime I was happy, something bad would happen. I didn’t want something to happen to you. I was so scared and alone. Grandma was there, and she did her best, but without my mom and knowing that she choose my abusive, drunk father over me, it was too much. I didn’t know how to share any of that.”
My heart broke all over again listening to her story. She hadn’t shared this with me before. I knew she and her mom livedwith her grandma and her dad was out of her life, but she had never told me what happened.
“I can’t go back and comfort you then, but I can hold you now, angel. I’ll never let you go again,” I vowed.
“Charles, I love you,” she said after she stopped crying.
My heart exploded at those words.
