Page 70 of Wild Child
While I felt I bore most of the responsibility between what had happened with us lately, she had skin in this trust game too. She was the one who never gave me a chance to explain. Who worked hard for three years to avoid me. The only way any connection had happened again was because I surprised everyone.
That kind of avoidance determination scared the hell out of me.
My mind wandered back to my original purpose for coming home in the first place: to tell Ellie the truth. Never again would I walk into another deployment or day without Ellie knowing that I had loved her all my life.
But now that I tried to do the right thing, I realized that it wasn't so easy. I'd come out here with a heroic determination to have it said . . . but life seemed to thwart my every attempt.
Really, there may never be a "right" time to tell Ellie that I loved her. Maybe my hidden feelings for her would be the great secret of my life. The unexplored trail I would never conquer. Ellie would be the one that got away.
If I didn't tell her, we could eventually grow apart as friends and into her category ofacquaintances. That process had already started, anyway. Might not be hard to finish. If I did tell her how strongly I felt, it might frighten her away forever, too. If I never meant that much to her, could she really be that for me?
The question haunted me sometimes. Especially when I realized those bleak Afghani nights, and how the hope of reuniting with her had carried me through.
Second only to that was the concern over her massive, hulking, unscalable mental walls. Everything she felt remained locked down so tight, I wasn't sure what she really thought. Didsheeven know?
My eyes closed on that question, and I wished I could open them onto a different scenario. Besides, she was right. I was too tired to make a wise decision, and the decision of what to do and where to go next needed to be a wise one.
We needed food. We were lucky to have as much hydration as we did today, now we had to make the most of it somehow. Stars popped out overhead. I shifted, my body tight with tension and fatigue. My stomach growled in protest again, and I dreamed of a steamy, hot shower. That thought, tangled so closely with my argument with Ellie, led my mind down different paths that I had to shut down.
I sighed, then turned to leave. Her voice stopped me in my tracks.
"I'm sorry."
I froze.
"I'm sorry that I snapped at you tonight," she continued quickly. "I think we're both tired. I'm sorry that we don't know where we are. I . . ." She let out a long breath. "I'm sorry that I've lost your trust. It's deserved. I . . . abandoned you right when you needed me the most."
She nearly choked on the words, and so did I. We hadn't faced each other yet, which seemed to make all of this a little easier. A tension deep, deep inside that I didn't know that I held onto released.
"You gave me a chance to tell you what my life was like when we parted." She exhaled softly. "Now I want you to tell me what it was like for you."
Had I ever expected to have this opportunity? To talk aboutmyside of the last three years felt like a luxury. I'd been so focused on Ellie that I hadn't thought much of myself. Maybe that was part of our problem.
In fact, I wasn't even sure she'd see this situation the same way as me or if she'd see blame in herself. She had, though. Openly admitted she had been wrong too, which went a long way in repairing some of that broken trust.
Did I want this opportunity to be wholly truthful with her now?
A little bit, as frightening as it was.
In the days that followed prom, I'd oscillated through every emotion. Mostly, I just tried to stem the rage. I'd been frustrated that she ignored me, then stressed that she'dkeepignoring me. Anxiety over what it meant to be without Ellie in the world kept me up at night. Terror that we'd never reconcile or reunite haunted me during the day.
All the emotions had been a rolling, jumbled ball deep in my gut that I didn't untangle for years. Now it sat inside me like a heavy weight that I didn't realize I'd been carrying all this time.
Silence had fallen without me realizing it. So had nighttime. When I turned to face her, the dark made it almost impossible to see her features. Only a bright sliver of moon overhead set a gentle glow on her hair and brow.
"I thought a part of me had died," I said.
Her face fell.
"And I think it did. I felt betrayed by your silence. I knew if I could just explain my decision then you'd get it. You'd have totally understood and we could put all of that behind us. I wouldn't have had to go alone into that new world."
For a moment, I paused. Did I want her to feel the full weight? The words came fast once I let them flow. If I let them go, she'd know exactly how much it had sucked.
Yes.
We needed to do this.
"Although I never would have admitted it," I continued, "I was terrified. Freaking out inside. I wrote you letters, but it never felt right to explain it that way. Plus, I didn't think you'd read them."
