Page 21 of See You Soon
I was already past the grieving stage, and I feel almost completely ridden from the looming guilt, and yet... when I found out Ari is his sister, all the healing comes to a halt.
I'm smoking on my front porch, scrolling through my phone since the work group chat is active with text messages going out. Everyone is hounding me for updates on the deployment since I'm the one everyone answers to. I'm the one in charge of my team so I have to give out orders and updates. The hurricane puts a delay in our departure and that disappointed everybody including me.
There's one thing that gives me a reason to live. A reason to wake up every day with a purpose, and that was my job. Kill or be killed is the anthem of every single deployment. The hurricane kept us home just a little longer and the boys are eager to get back to work.So am I.It's going to be another few days before we leave since we have to set up new traveling arrangements.
I refuse to let myself get distracted by this new feeling that erupts in my soul. And her name is Ari.
My gate alerts my phone that there's someone trying to get through on my land and I open it to see my mother's Range Rover requesting access through the cameras.
What's she doing here?
I grant her access and watch the single road that's in between the ever-green trees that block the view to my gate and the main road that leads into the city. While I wait for my mothers' vehicle to emerge, I can't help but wonder if she's brought my father.
We haven't spoken in years. Nothing more than greetings and farewells and there’s a good valid reason for the animosity.
Finally, my mother's vehicle emerges and it's just her. No one is in the passenger seat and I'm immediately relieved. I don't have the energy to deal with my father. Just the sight of him makes my hands turn into fists.
My mother on the other hand is no different than my father but we carry our relationship on better terms. My parents are both cold and distant with me but my mother and I manage to keep in touch always.
The hangover’s kicking my ass, but I won't show it. The Tylenol’s starting to kick in and my headache is starting to subside.
My mother parks her car and she quickly walks towards me. She has her Tom Ford sunglasses on and is dressed in all expensive clothing. My mother's footing gives her a hard time as she walks across the yard to the porch. My parents are wealthy and yet I want nothing from them. Everything I have since I joined, I've earned from my career in the military.
"Daniel." My mother's heels stop short next to the chair next to mine as she greets me.
"Mother," I say, taking another puff of my cigarette, my eyes squinting, adjusting to the sun rays behind her.
She whips her short blonde hair back over her shoulder and takes off her sunglasses, studying me. Her blue eyes pierce through me and I give her a sarcastic smile.
"Are you not going to offer your mother one?" She says pointing to the cigarette and taking a seat. I pull another cigarette out of the pack and hand it to her. I pass her a lighter too, clenching my jaw.
We sit in silence, smoking, enjoying the cool air and gray skies.
"Daniel. When am I getting grandbabies? I'm not getting any younger. You aren't either Daniel, you're in your thirties. I'm entering my sixties you kn—"
I cut her off.
"I know, Mother. I know."
I'm cold and curt. I blow out smoke from my lungs in the opposite direction of my mother. The smoke flows into the air, lingering. She's been pressuring me for grandkids recently and it's out of nowhere. She never pries into my personal life but lately, she's taken a particular interest in it, specificallygrandchildren.
"I would love to see my grand babies running around in the mansion. I've already started to baby-proof parts of the house, all we need is the little ones to fill it. You're our only hope to carry the Rider name..."
"Mother, respectfully, I will not be bringing anygrand babiesinto this fucked up world," I growl. I stand up aggressively throwing the cigarette to the floor, putting it out under my boot. I meant it. My military career completely changes the way I thought about procreating. My work schedule and the way my career takes the utmost priority over everything deters me from even entertaining the idea of becoming a father. It's not that I don't like kids, I just don't believe in bringing any of my own into this brutal world.
The evil that lives in this world is sickening. No one knows the extent of what I've seen besides my team and me. The stories, the horrid memories are engraved into my brain like poison. I work hard every single damn day to not let it get to me. And sometimes, it does.
Clearly, I self-medicate with my favorite addictions when I can.
Witnessing a terrorist group attack was one of the last straws for me. An evil terrorist group planted bombs and land mines on a children's playground killing and injuring babies, kids, and families. Having to carry out blown-up innocent kids from a seesaw was one of the hardest moments of my career. Holding a four-year-old on the brink of death is a haunting memory that I remember like it was yesterday. Nausea rushes into my vision as the memory hits me, and I swallow. These poor kids lost their lives from a simple routine fun day they look forward to.
I walk towards the fence I have wrapped around my porch leaning my forearms on it, sighing.
"Daniel, you haven't been the same since... since... It's been two months and I'm worried about you. Get help. Talk to someone if you won't talk to me anymore." My jaw clenches and I know what she's referring to.
"He was my best friend. No matter what I do..." I pause taking in a deep breath. The wind of the hurricane still lingers, and it feels good against my skin, watching it slither through the tall trees, making them sway across my land.
"It won't bring him back." I breathe. My mother is the only person that knows the details surrounding Paul's death. She's the only person I opened up to since it was required by my boss. I rejected the mandatory psychiatric therapy I was issued to take so, they made sure I was talking to someone about it.
