“That’s what I told him. Some guys don’t believe me, don’t believe us.”
“It’s just like you said that summer after school ended, do you remember?” I stretch out my body, pointing my toes toward the foot of the bed. “You said that not everyone gets to have what we have. Not everyone feels what we feel.”
“Seven years later, that’s still true.”
He falls quiet again, and I can tell there’s something on his mind. Something he wants to talk about, but he’s struggling to get the words out.
“Lukas?”
“I’m sorry,” he croaks, his voice breaking with the words. “I’m all messed up, Mags. And sometimes, I feel like I’ve let you down.”
“Baby…” My hand flies up to the center of my chest, rubbing over my aching heart. “Don’t think like that. Don’t beat yourself up, please.”
I can hear him trying to fight through the tears on the other end of the phone. He clears his throat roughly, and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t give up to be able to hug him right now. “Lukas,” I call out. “You know I love you more than anything. I want you,onlyyou. Yeah, it sucks what we’re going through. It sucks to only hear from you once every month or two, but this is all temporary. It’stemporary, baby. It won’t always be like this. And you're not letting me down, are you kidding?” Thinking of Lukas and our future is what drives me, what pushes me, what gives me my reason for waking. “You've never let me down, ever.”
He sniffles once more before clearing his throat. “Ahh, I think I’m just exhausted. My mind isn’t right these days, it seems to run away from me.”
There are very few times in our relationship that I’ve seen Lukas break down. I’ve seen him angry, stressed, but the times he’s let himself crumble in front of me have been life-changing. The night I flew to Copper Ridge after finding out he had surgery; the last summer we spent together back home. He broke down those times, but the moments were brief. Now, it seems like he lives in that state, always on the verge of cracking, and it’s terrifying.
“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, or can’t, maybe. But I’d like to hear what you’re feeling, Lukas. I want to…” I pause, waiting to see if he’ll share. But when he doesn’t, I try a different route. “I started seeing a therapist.”
“A therapist? How come?”
I blow out a heavy breath. “Lots of reasons. Because I miss you. Because I worry about you constantly. Because I need to learn how to be able to live my life to the fullest while also missing you like crazy. I needed to learn why it’s been so hard for us to talk. I’ve had a lot of guilt about how different our lives are right now.”
“Why the guilt?”
“Because I brushed aside how miserable you were back home. I get that you wanted something else for yourself, for us. You wanted a second chance, you know?”
His “Yeah” is hesitant, and I think he’s listening, understanding, trying to work through everything I’m saying.
“She—the therapist—also pointed out what you’re going through. The kind of life you’re living. You’re doing things that I don’t even know about, that I likely wouldn’t understand, I get that. I want you to be able to call me and for us to have these lengthy, emotional conversations about how you feel, but that can’t happen right now.”
I pause, waiting to see if he will add to that. To say she’s right or wrong, but he’s silent. “She said that you aren’t in aplace where you’re able to show weakness. That you need to stay tough, resilient to the outside world even if that’s not how you’re feeling on the inside. It’s what’s going to keep you safe.” I broke down in her office when she pointed that out. While I’m struggling to live two lives—the life in front of me and the life I have with Lukas. He’s also struggling to live two lives—the one that’s on hold, the one where we’re back home and together, and the one he’s living every day. The dangerous one. The one that’s literally life or death. “In a very tactful way, she told me that I need to respect what you can’t give me right now, and I agree.”
“Damn,” he finally says.
“Is she right? About all of that?”
He whispers a weak “Yeah,” and the first tear slides down my cheek.
“Okay, then…” I trail off, trying to come to terms with the gripping reality that the Lukas I want isn’t the Lukas I can have right now, but that doesn't mean he doesn’t care. “I’m glad I know, you know? Maybe it’ll help both of us to know that what we’re feeling, and our kind of poor communication right now is somewhat normal? I don’t want to ask too much of you. I don’t want my neediness to take away from what you need to do.”
“You’re not needy, baby. I’m your boyfriend, I should be able to tell you things,” he whispers. “I want to, you know. It’s hard for me, but I want to try. I think I need to try, for us.”
I nod along, tears still brimming at the corners of my eyes. He sounds broken, depressed, but he’stalking. He’s listening. Acknowledging what we need to do to make it work is more than I had hoped for. It’s a big step forward for the both of us.
“I’ll probably keep asking what’s going on, even if you can’t tell me.” It’s just who I am. It’s what anyone does in any relationship, I would imagine. Whether it’s with family, a friend, or significant other. When you care, when someone is such a part of your life, you want to help them. When he’s off, I’m off.
“Any talk of going home yet?” His deployment was supposed to be seven to ten months; that’s what they originally said. But now we’re on month eight, and he hasn’t received word either way.
“Nah, they haven’t said anything. I imagine it’ll be closer to ten, maybe more.”
I purse my lips together, pulling the bottom one in between my teeth to chew on it.
“You can say that it sucks,” he jokes. “It can make you mad, all of this being so uncertain. It makes me mad.”
“I’m working on being a supportive girlfriend, remember? I just need…” I blow out a shaking breath. “I just need to adapt.”
