Page 60 of Free to Breathe
I take my first sip of coffee—the Corinna special, filled with homemade caramel sauce and heavy cream—and sigh. Then her words penetrate. “Wait, Keene made you try an MRE?”
“Isn’t that what they feed you guys? A bag of that crap?”
“That’s what they feed you when you’re in a life-or-death situation. Most of the time there’s some type of a mess hall if you’re stationed on a base,” I explain.
“Keene’s going to be in a life-or-death situation again for making me eat that shit.” I grin, imagining the creative ways she’ll use to get back at Ali’s significant other. “I do have one question though.”
In the middle of swallowing another sip of coffee that poets would write sonnets about, I wave my hand.
“Why does all the meat taste like tuna? I mean, do they have special chemists in the military that chemically alter chicken?” After I finish snickering, she places a stack of perfectly golden, fluffy pancakes in front of me. “Taste that and tell me what you think.”
I put my cup on the counter and swallow hard. My hand wants so desperately to reach for the fork and to shovel the food into my mouth, but there’s something I have to do first.
And she has to be sober and awake to hear it.
“Cori.” Her head whips up to mine. “I know. That name’s no longer mine to use, except it’s Cori I need to apologize to. I hurt her when I never meant to. I need to give peace of mind to her, and if I have to piss off the woman she became to do that, I will.” Standing, I move closer to her so I can lay my fingers on her heart. It’s pounding beneath my touch. “I want you to know I heard you the other night. More importantly, I heard you last night. And I realized something.”
“What’s that?” Corinna’s face is pale, and she eyes me warily.
“I owe you an apology for the present too. Your sister said something last night that struck me hard.”
“Considering how drunk we were, I’m surprised. Which one?”
“Emily. She said it’s your life and your body and your right to live your life as you choose. And she’s right. Who am I to judge your life?” I shake my head. “No one. Even if any of it were true, the words I lashed out at you still stem from nothing other than what I said last night. I’m jealous. I’m jealous of any man whose had the chance to win this magnificent heart of yours.”
Corinna tries to shove away. “Sure you are.”
My other arm bands around her waist. She looks at me like a skittish kitten, not the sultry feline she so often resembles. “You give of yourself constantly. You run yourself ragged trying to be everything to everyone. You feel you owe the world for the life you’ve already paid the dues for. You read what I wrote to you. When are you going to understand you’re everything just for being you?”
“When I can take in a breath in my darkness and know down to my soul that I’m not someone’s pain, but their cure,” Corinna replies. “That’s when I’ll know.”
Wrenching out of my arms, she picks up her coffee, leaving me reeling from her words. “Is that how you see yourself?”
Taking a sip, she shrugs.
Tell her, my inner voice says.Tell her all the things she doesn’t know. “No one is perfect, Corinna. There are dark parts to everyone’s past.” Including mine.
Sighing, she gestures to my pancakes. “You had better eat, Colby. Those are a spin-off of Chef Eric Greenspan’s lemon ricotta pancakes. And if you’re planning on telling me about your family, you’ll probably want a full stomach.” She mutters as an aside, “I know I would.”
I’m frozen in place. “How do you know?” I wanted—no, I needed—to be the one to tell her.
“Let’s just say, Addison was all too informative about her boyfriend after you graduated.” Bitterness seeps into her words.
“I never told Addison either, Corinna. And let’s be clear, I wasn’t her boyfriend.”
Ignoring me, she continues. “Then you’re not the son of Brett Hunt of Hunt Enterprises. Your family business isn’t worth billions?” she drawls. Turning her back to me, she stomps into the adjoining family room and picks up a familiar box. “Bet your daddy would just love it had these actually made it into my hands, Colby. Because damn you, I did read them. And I felt every word on every page straight in my heart. And I knew there could be nothing more between us but friendship because of who you are. More importantly, because of who I can never forget I am. Where I came from. What happened to me. What’s going to happen to me.”
“Would it help you to know I haven’t spoken to them since the day my father hit me when I decided to join the Army?” The words come out so calmly, I surprise even myself. “He dislocated my shoulder the summer between my senior year of high school and my freshman year of college, shoving me into a wall because I refused to fall in line to just make the guns to kill people instead of heading out into the Jawa to serve with them. He almost cost me my ROTC scholarship, which I think was his point. I haven’t spoken to my family since.” The silence following that announcement is deafening.
Throwing out my self-preservation, I stalk to where she’s holding the box, trembling, and give her my truth. It’s time. “I don’t hold regret about the lives I’ve taken or the life I’ve led. I can count on one hand the things I regret.” I hold up my first finger. “One. My grandfather hasn’t contacted me since I left home. God only knows what the old bastard thinks, and despite everything, I did love him. Two.” I flick up another finger. “Letting you slip away when I knew damn well it was something I could fix. And finally”—I throw up the third finger—“not fighting hard enough to get through to you when I got back. Everything else will end up being a left-handed monkey wrench.”
“What’s that?” she asks cautiously.
“Something that doesn’t exist. Why hold on to the regrets that mean nothing? Life’s too precious.”
Corinna drops the box at her feet. Letters fly everywhere, but she pays them no mind as she launches herself at me. I clutch her close, knowing how priceless this moment is. Knowing for so many reasons it almost didn’t happen. Burying my head in her neck, I breathe in her intoxicating scent. It’s sweeter than the coffee I just drank, more addicting than nachos, and more necessary than air. It’s just Corinna.
I don’t want to break the mood, but my stomach has other ideas. It growls noisily in the quiet room. Corinna’s body shakes from the shelter within my arms. “It’s not that funny. Do you even remember last night?”
