I nod my head, emotions choked in my throat, a tightness in my chest.
We’ve seen the best of each other and we’ve seen the worst.
And lately I feel myself slipping into my worst self.
“I’m not sure if it outweighs the bad,” I admit to him on a whisper. “The things I’ve done. . .”
“Saved lives, Ethan.”
“By taking another,” I argue.
“We all know that when we are in combat it’s kill or be killed,” he reminds me, “but that isn’t what’s really bothering you is it? The killing, the combat. What’s bothering you is because it’s starting not to.”
Fuck.
And isn’t that the worst part to admit to yourself? That this life is becoming easy. That it would feel almost wrong to go back to a life that isn’t this.
One day I’m fighting myself that I’m taking someone’s life because they’re only fighting for what they believe in. That they are someone’s son, someone’s brother or someone’s husband. They’re human beings. People who maybe had a family of their own. But then the next day I see the body I killed as what it is,a product of war. I see a man who was going to kill me and my brothers. I see a man who is just a body at that point.
It’s an inner turmoil of war that I haven’t won.
I know that it’s kill or be killed, and I don’t regret the blood I have on my hands, but it does stain the soul.
“I’m not the same guy who enlisted, Miguel.”
“None of us are. Combat changes people.. Hell, life changes people. You just have to start looking at things at a different perspective.”
“Is that what you do?” I ask genuinely wanting to know. It seems as if combat hasn’t affected Miguel at all. He’s still that good man he was before he became a Marine.
“I have to see the good in what we do, Ethan but I also have to do what I feel is right. And serving my country, the country my mother immigrated to from Mexico, the country she raised me in to do the right thing, I’m here because of her. She fought for me all her life. I’m only doing the same.”
The man’s heart is made of pure gold. “You’re a good man, Miguel.”
He lays a hand on my shoulder and squeezes the muscle. Looking me straight in the eye he says with absolute certainty, “You’re a good man, too.” After he removes his arm and lets the words sink into my skin and absorb in my brain he winks at me and jokes, “Just not as good looking as me.”
At that I laugh. The rumble coming from deep in my chest.
And fuck does it feel good.
“Alright, fucker, that’s why I have a girl back at home waiting for me. And don’t let Isaac hear you say that. He thinks he’s the pretty boy of the group.”
He holds his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, you might have the height that all the ladies want but I got the moves.” He wiggles his eyebrows and my laugh becomes louder. Loud enough to wake the rest of my team behind me.
Roman, Isaac and Jude groggily wake up behind me as they shift around until they’re sitting.
Jude rubs at his eyes and yawns. Then with bleary eyes he asks us groggily, “What has you two fuckers being so loud?”
“Yeah,” Isaac chimes in but not as groggy as Jude. If anything Isaac looks well rested. I don’t know how in the hell the fucker always manages to look like he has always gotten the best sleep. “You cut into my beauty rest.”
Roman snorts, slapping Isaac on the back of his head which doesn’t have much of an impact due to his helmet.
“Is the gossiping between you two or can the rest of us join?” Roman quips, amusement lighting in his dark eyes.
“We’re talking about how I can pull all the ladies,” Miguel tells them with a smug face.
“Not against me you can’t,” Isaac argues.
“You don’t have the moves like I do, man. A woman sees a man who can dance and knows he’s good in bed.”
