My Marine Man *Editing Time!*

Chapter 14: The Talk

Everyday, soldiers come home from battle. Everyday, people honor the wounded warriors. What they don't realize, is, every soldier who has fought is a wounded warrior. Some just have
the physical scars to prove it. This chapter is dedicated to the soldiers who have come home unscathed in the physical apperance, but are hurting on the inside from their experiences.




Chapter 14



I stir, and open my eyes. I feel Nathan's gaze on my face, smiling.
"Good morning beautiful, Sleep well?" he questions softly.
"The best in a long time."
"that's Good. Uh, can I talk to you about something?"
"Anything," I reply, rubbing my eyes to get rid of any remaining sleep.
"Ok, um, I've never exactly told you about Iraq, have I?"
"Not that I remember, Nate."
A pause.
"You don't have to until you're ready, babe... How about I go make some breakfast?"
"No, no. I need to tell you."
I nod, and resume my position wrapped up, all safe and secure in his arms. This,I decide, is the best place in the world.
"So, um, I joined the Marines when I was 18, straight out of high school. I always knew I was meant for the armed forces, but joining the Marines without a college education was a surprise to everyone, including me. I had gone to a minicamp during the summer, and was hooked. The commitment, the honor, and the service to our country all appealed to me, and the Marines put those ideas on steriods, as some guys in my squadron like to say. So college just didn't seem that important anymore, after the minicamp. And I was happy with that decision. For six years I was stationed at multiple bases, but all in the U.S. Then came Iraq."
Nathan pauses, and stares up at the ceiling. I squeeze his hand, trying to reassure and calm him about whatever is coming next.
"My squadron and I have been together for a while. They're my best friends. Iraq was our first real test, and all of us made it out," he starts, a slight tremor in his voice. "Zoe," he continues, "Can you imagine what it would be like to go to bed every night, not knowing if tomorrow you'll be alive? Can you imagine what it would be like driving down the road, not knowing if you're going to be blown up the next second? The enemy is apon you and wanting to see you dead?" his voice gradually growing in intensity with each word he speaks. More softly, he adds, "The worst part for me is that, as much as they want us dead and eliminated, I can't hate them. I can't. Everytime I try to, I think about their families, their lives. They're not unlike ours. They're humans too, Zoe, fighting for what they believe is right. I can't hate them, and that's what haunts me. Not the constant worries of whether you'll live or not. No. It's the faces of those we killed, fighting against us.
"Say something, Zoe. Please."
"That might be the most moving story I've ever hear in my entire life, Nate. I can't believe you've gone through all that," I reply, shaking my head, realizing how small all of my troubles are compared to this.
"Sometimes it's hard to believe myself. I mean, back here in America, you can almost forget because everything else around you is so normal."
"Nate?"
"Yeah, Zo?"
"Do you ever have nightmares of Iraq?" I ask, "Sorry, that's a horrible question. I guess..."
"No don't be sorry, and don't try to hide the fact that you get nightmares whenever you see a scary movie. I know you do," he says with a chuckle. I mock horror, and he gives me a lopsided smile. "But seriously, I do have a lot of restless nights. During the day I'm fine, but the dark brings out my memories of Iraq. Some nights, I lay in bed, not able to turn my mind off."
I nod, still wondering, "So then how did you sleep last night, knowing you'll be going again soon?"
"To my surprise, I slept the best since I've been home."
We continue to talk about lighter subjects, just enjoying each other's company. I hear my grandparents moving around outside my door, probably getting breakfast ready and assuming I'm already out jogging.
"Shoot," I say, "How are we gonna get you out of here without them noticing?"
"I simply walk out the door, babe. Is there anything wrong with that? We didn't do anything dishonorable."
"I know that, and you know that, but they don't know that!"
Nathan mutters something under his breath along the lines of how this is why adults shouldn't live with their parents, and then turning to me, says, "I'll just walk out the door, and if they need an explaination, I'll tell them about Iraq. I mean, I'll have to tell them sometime. Then we won't have to do all the scheming and deceiving."
"Aw, you're no fun," I answer with a pout. Nate responds with a smirk, and a jesture towards the door. Getting up from my comfortable position, I do a few morning stretches to stall a little more. I know I'm annoying Nate, and this is part of the reason for stalling, but the other part is fear of my grandparent's reaction.
"Are you done yet?" Nathan asks in a peeved voice.
"I might be about ready if you're really nice to me."
He walks over to me, smiling like the devil, and places a lingering kiss on my lips. "Is that better?" he asks softly, and I nod vigorously in response. Laughing, he opens the door to my grandparent's shocked faces.






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