Chapter 13 – Dallas
Eight years ago…Paloma is 18; and Dallas is 22.
The sound of gunfire echoes overhead as jets roar through the hazy sky. I signal to my men to move in and clear the next building ahead of us.
It’s just another day on my first tour—another day in the midst of the hell that’s a war zone.
I used to think nothing could break me or challenge me enough to make me feel like a failure. But my first tour overseas has been doing just that.
Between bootcamp and this deployment, I've been cracked open in ways no civilian career ever could have, exposing weaknesses in my character and the ugly pride that’s filled my heart my whole life.
My safety net—my parents' money and reputation in Los Angeles—was gone. Out here, no one cared about the fact that my parents were multiple millionaires who had won Emmy’s and other various meaningless awards stacked in their home in the comforts of California. They cared about loyalty, grit and determination, not net worth, and trivial accolades.
The simple comforts of civilian life were a distant memory as I found myself sleeping in a new place every night on a cramped cot that could barely accommodate my full frame. I knew I’d never take for granted again the ease of my life back home in the States and despite the ache that wears through my muscles and mind most nights when I try to sleep, I also knew I wouldn't be ready to end my time in the Marines in a few short months when my first tour concludes.
My mom wouldn't understand it, my friends would call me reckless, but now that I'd been here, I was eager for more. Eager to be built up a new alongside my brothers who were in the thick of the fight with me. Eager to be broken in new ways. To test my limits.
I thought that I’d been smart before, but now, I was calculated.
I'd considered myself even tempered, balanced in all aspects of life, not superfluous with my spending, but now, I only need the bare minimum to survive.
I thought that I’d been fearless, confident to face the most harrowing scenarios head on. But now, I'm unphased even with a gun pressed to my temple.
I used to think I was strong, with muscles honed from daily surfing and hours spent lifting weights in the gym, but now, I'm as sturdy as a tree, having grown another two inches, with muscles hardened by blood, sweat, and shrapnel.
And I'd cared about loyalty, family, and community before, but now, I would bleed and die for my country.
Later that night, after retiring to our barracks where we’d been sleeping for the past six months, my sergeant stops by my door.
“Hey Golden boy. You got a letter,” he waves it in the air then tosses the all-brown envelope on my cot.
I assume it’s another letter from my mother, telling me how much she misses me and can’t wait for my return. She was always checking in, expressing her love and pride for all that Iwas doing, and I always enjoyed receiving her communication.
Despite being one of the most popular Hollywood movie stars of the 90s, she’d never pressured me to follow in her footsteps. She and my stepdad were equally supportive when I told them I was enlisting and stood proudly next to me at my bootcamp graduation.
Without reading the return address I tear into the letter, eager for something lighter to take my mind off of the grievous events of the day.
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Dear Dallas GOLDEN - (if that’s even your FIRST name?),
How could you not tell me how to reach you?
Do you know what lengths I had to go through to get your information so that I could mail you this letter just to tell you off?
There's no way that you dated during high school because it seems like you don't understand the wrath of a scorned, teenage woman.
Yes, I'm an adult now, but I'm still a teenage adult.
I almost hopped on a plane to Los Angeles, flew to your parents' house and demanded they give me your location so that I could write to you.
ALMOST DALLAS.
Ok, ok, if this actually ends up making it to you wherever you are currently stationed, I have a few things to tell you about the last two years of my life that you missed out on while I was trying to figure out how the hell to contact you after you told me you were going TO WAR WITH NO WARNING.
Firstly, that’s super badass of you to just up and do something like that. I looked up the Marine Corps and they are really hard to get into. Good for you.
Secondly, will you please not die? I’ve never met you and I get that we were just always pen pals and friends (I like to think we were?) butit’d be cool to meet you someday, that is, of course, if you want to?
