Page 10 of Unholy Union

We clinked our beers together in the back of the restaurant. Benjo took a good, long chug. “Man, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed not being in uniform all the time. I’ve missed just hanging out with my friends and enjoying a cold beer.”

“I agree.”

Benji waggled his busy eyebrows. “I also miss sex. Have anyone back home you miss?”

“Nope. I was single when I joined the Army and still am. Usually when I return home, I have a few one-night stands, but nothing more.”

“So, no woman you’ve been desperately missing to fuck?”

I chuckled as I took another sip of my beer. “Nope.”

“Man, you’re missing out. My girl back home … whew. She’s a wild card. Great in the sack.”

“I hope you get to go home to her soon. When do you have leave?”

“In just a few months. I can’t wait.”

“Then, cheers.” I clinked my bottle to his again.

The explosion happened before any of us could even process it.

A huge fireball went through the restaurant. I’m not sure what caused it. A bomb. A gas leak. I was never able to find out, not even years later.

All I knew was I was blown off my chair, and I landed hard on my back. The table in front of me protected me from the worst of the explosion.

But when I looked over and saw Benji lying beside me, my eyes immediately locked on a piece of glass sticking out of his neck. Blood was gushing down his throat. His eyes were wide open.

I crawled over to him and shook him, but his head just flopped to the side. He was dead. And all I had to show for it was the blood covering my hands.

“Theo?”

I gasp again, my vision clearing.

“Theo?” It takes a moment to recognize the voice.

Cecilia.

She’s standing right before me, looking at me with concern. When my eyes finally focus, I realize everyone else is giving me the same look.

“Are you all right?” she asks, reaching her hand out to me.

I wrench away from her, and she drops her hand, hurt written on her face. I don’t have time to feel bad for her. She shouldn’t be asking me if I’m all right. She shouldn’t be so close to me at all.

It’s a recipe for danger.

“I’m fine,” I say, hoping everyone will stop looking at me like that. “I’m fine.”

Cecilia hurries back to her seat, her eyes downcast. I straighten, brushing a hand down my shirt.

“I apologize,” I say. “That was unprofessional.”

“What was that?” Giulia asks.

I clear my throat. “Just bad memories is all. I’m fine. Please. Go back to enjoying your dinner.”

After a few more looks of concern thrown my way, the family resumes their dinner.

Antonio clears his throat. “Actually, there’s something I want to discuss tonight. Something important.”

---