And as every day passed and I ached all over for him, I could feel my defenses weakening and lowering. His persistent contact in spite of my stubborn silence made my insides mush. I started looking forward to his texts and wished he’d message me more often. Like five or ten times a day. By the end of the third week of classes, I’d made up my mind.

“He's texted me again,” I told Eve. “He has since I got back from London. Every night, two texts for over two months.” I was a little awed by his dedication.

“What do they say? Like sexy stuff or I miss you stuff? Or I’m a huge dickhead and I’m sorry stuff.”

I nodded. “All of it but mostly everyday texts. Today I received ‘Hey got caught about two steps from commissary during colors. Sux.’” I read it off my phone, then I tucked it away and played with the beer Eve had served me an hour ago. It was warm and tasted horrible.

“What's that mean?”

“If you're outside and they play this particular song, you can't move. You have to stand at attention, but if you're indoors then you can move about.”

“So like Simon Says, only military style.”

“Kind of. What do you think it means?”

“That the military likes to play games?”

“No, not colors, the texting,” I said impatiently.

“Dunno. He's weird, remember? We told you to stay away from him.”

“No, you told me to pursue him and then you high fived me after I told you I'd experienced the whole head-thrown-back, screaming orgasm thing, then you told me to stay away from him."

“Yeah I guess I did say all that, but I've always maintained he was weird. Your dates were like out of a Field & Stream magazine. Hunting, fishing?”

“Don’t forget the skydiving.”

“Yeah, the one date that ended with a near-death experience followed by a run in with a druggie who called you names and hit you.”

“I think I share too much with you,” I muttered.

"He’s a rebound guy. It’s easy to get over them.” Eve hummed “Summer Lovin’.”

"I don’t think I can. I love him," I admitted. Tears were forming and I picked up the soggy beverage napkin to dab them away.

Her humming stopped short. "No."

"Yes."

"You're crazy. He's your rebound guy. Now you can hook up with someone more permanent!” she cried.

"Why does he have to be the rebound guy?"

"Because that's how it works. You always have one person in between relationships who hits the reset button."

"The reset button on what? My feelings? My vagina? I think after two years I've been officially reset."

Eve looked at me uncertainly for a moment and then rallied. “I’ve got this great guy—” I waved her off.

“I think I’m a one man kind of girl. I know what it feels like to be in true love. It’s not just the longing for a body next to you, but his particular body. It’s his smell and his touch you miss. It’s his laughter and his sense of adventure.”

"So you're just going to go back to him after he did that totally douchebag move?"

"It was a douchebag move. Like in the pantheon of douchebaggery, he would be at least on the royal court."

"So you recognize this but you're still going?"

"Eve, I’ve spent my short life playing it safe. And I still got burned. I lost my husband and my heart currently feels like it was trampled by a rhinoceros. I can't hurt like this any more. So I'm going to take a chance. It might be the stupidest thing I do, but at least I'm doing something. I'm not waiting for life to come to me. I'm going out and leaping across the cavern and hoping somebody is there to catch me on the other side.”

"And if there isn't?"

"Then I fall and I get back up again. I go out to San Diego, and I tell him I'm going to give him another chance, and if he fucks up then I leave him. But at least I'm giving myself a chance at happiness.”

Eve looked at me with sad eyes, and she shook her head.

“I know you don't agree with me, but what’s the worst thing that can happen to me? The worst thing has already happened—I lost him. The best thing is that he realizes what a mistake he's made and he trusts me. But whatever it is, there's a connection between the two of us that I hadn't felt since I was with Will, and God, I know what a lucky bitch I am to get that feeling, to have that soul-deep connection with someone, not just once, but twice. I'm going to pursue that until it's dead and beaten into the ground. I could be a total fool for giving Gray another chance. But I'll be a fool who exhausted every avenue in front of her, and when I look back on this moment, I'll never wish I'd tried harder. I'll never say 'I wish I'd done something different,' which is what I've been saying since Will died. I wished I'd moved to Alaska with him. I wish I'd married him the first time he asked me, right out of high school. I wished I would've been more enthusiastic about his dreams instead of selfishly thinking about mine all the time. I'm going to do this, Eve."

Stunned in to silence by my monologue, she said nothing. Then she gave me a rueful smile and a small, one-armed hug. "Go get him, tiger."

Gray

BACK AT THE BASE, MY days simultaneously ran together and refused to end. Every night I went home and worked on the afghan, or BG as I called it, because I was a Marine and we only ever referred to anything by its initials. BG stood for Big Gesture but could’ve also stood for Big Garbage, since that piece of shit looked like yarn that had been chewed up and vomited out by some large animal. Hopefully when I showed it to her she would realize it meant that I was placing her first in my life and that I was trusting her with my damaged heart, the one that I realized I now wore outside of my body, exposed.

I slept, ate, exercised, trained, worked. Whatever calling I thought I had here was missing. I'd left all my ambition and my soul at the feet of one girl. But she hadn't stomped on it. I'd been the one to grind all that we could have had into the dust with my size thirteen boot. Ironically, I was better suited to serving now. The fear I’d once had watching over these guys was nothing compared to the fear I’d had watching Sam fall out of the sky or the fear that burrowed deep in the back recesses of my mind that I’d never win her back. Those were real fears. The fear of leadership wasn’t even close.

"Marine, you are one sad sack." Captain Dailey looked up at me over his long, hawkish nose. The bushy, beetle-shaped eyebrows were furrowed together, forming one long, hairy snake over the tops of his eyes. I stared at the row of fur in fascination, waiting for it to crawl off. I was back in his office to hear yet another lecture on the glory of the Corps.

"Yessir." I snapped off a knife-sharp salute. You said, “Sir, yes sir,” even if your commanding officer told you to suck his dick.

"I haven't seen your reenlistment papers." I guess he’d conveniently forgotten I’d already told him I wasn’t reenlisting.

"No, sir."

"Why's that, Marine? You're too soft for us now?"

"No, sir." If anything I was more hardened and determined than ever. My goals had shifted but I wasn't revealing that to the captain.

He stared at me, trying to wait me out, but I'd learned a few things in my seven years of service and the mantra that they should never see you sweat was one of the important ones. Show a weakness and they'd needle you forever under the guise of making you a stronger warrior.

Maybe that was how you created a better Marine, but I wasn't convinced that trying to find someone's weakness and exploit it always made good sense—but I knew better than to tell the CO my thoughts on the matter. Instead I stood with my heels together so that I stood straight as a tree and as unmoving as a steel post. My arms were glued to my side, fingers pointed straight down. I could have been a plum line, my bearing was so perfectly erect and straight. I'd practiced this pose for years watching Dad and Pops. I'd stood in front of the mirror and saluted. I’d had the best salute in boot and was even praised for it, when they weren't busy spitting obscenities in my face and mocking me for being a hard charger.