Page 74 of Tango

My brain was fried by the time I made it back to my room. I showered and ordered something to eat. Snowflakes fell against the window, and I wished I was back at Shadows in front of the massive fireplace, with Ivy.

I placed my glass of scotch on a square coaster and slowly eased my big body down onto the tiny couch, a loveseat thing that I hoped wouldn’t break under me. I wiggled to find a comfortable position and tried to sort out my thoughts. I tapped my heel as I ran through everything we’d talked about. Tomorrow was the day I’d waited for, hoped for.

Nothing could go wrong because we had only one take on this. I tried to shift my head into work mode. I couldn’t let my stress about the importance of this mission play on me. Usually, I had no problem with my focus, but this time it was different. Maybe it was because we weren’t a few inches underwater or lying somewhere in a hot hellhole while we waited, but whatever it was, I just couldn’t concentrate.

I closed my eyes and was shot back into a memory.

“Drinks are on me!” Flex yelled happily. He slopped some beer as he held it high, and almost fell from his perch on the barstool. Everyone cheered at the top of their lungs. Moore gave me an eyeroll, but the idea of a cold, crisp beer made my mouth water. We were fresh on block leave, I’d had no sleep, and still picked the odd grain of sand from my teeth no matter how many times I brushed. It was nice to be back, but I knew in a day or two the itch to go back to Central Asia would be as necessary as my next breath.

I glanced at Anderson, who had that all too familiar thousand-yard stare, and I let him be. Anyone who served understood that look all too well. I chuckled darkly to myself; it didn’t take much to know which guys had just arrived on block leave. We all had our backs to the wall and our heads on a constant swivel.

“Cheers to one year ago today,” Moore raised his beer to the center of the table, “when we left the land of the free and stepped into what could only be described as World War Three.” We clicked glasses and took a moment to digest that we’d all made it back in one piece.

“To our fearless captain.” Brown tipped his bottle at me, and the others followed. “You led us there and brought us back, and I couldn’t be more thankful.”

Though I appreciated the compliment, it wasn’t correct. “No one guy can do that. We’re a team, and it takes a team to survive over there.”

“Let’s make a pact.” Anderson leaned forward. “Every time we come home, we have a drink here, same table, same shit beer,” we all chuckled, “and make a toast to getting out alive.”

“Deal,” we all agreed. As I looked around the table, I couldn’t help but wonder who might not be here next time. I shook off the thought as I tuned in to my reality. I was their captain. It was my duty to make sure they got back. If any of us couldn’t be here, it had to be me. The captain could never be the last man standing.

“If one of us isn’t, though,” Anderson pointed a finger at all of us, “you better nail the son of a bitch who got him to a post, so we all can have a turn at him.”

“Agreed!” we all shouted.

“You goin’ home tonight, Brown?” Gail rolled the label he had peeled from the beer under his palm.

“Yeah, home to my own bed where none of you fuckers can breathe in my face with your stink-ass breath.” He laughed, and my chest tightened.

Home. I dreaded that thought.

“Hey, man,” Brown leaned over so the others couldn’t hear, “don’t go back to your cousin’s basement. You know you always got a room at my place. My parents’ll lose their minds if you don’t at least spend the first night.”

“Thanks.” I felt my mood shift, and I knew I needed to sort my thoughts out alone.

Loud laughter drew our attention over to Hill and Rivera at the bar. Two pompous assholes if there ever were any. Their captain, Flex, stood nearby and watched as they made a show of doing tequila shots off some chick’s tits.

I stood and patted my pocket.

“Shit, boys, give me ten. I need to grab something from my truck. The next round’s on me.”

They hit the table and cheered. As I walked by Brown, he reached out and put something in my hand.

“Back door.” I slipped the key in my pocket and gave his shoulder a pat as I slipped out into the cool night air. Brown and Moore were my brothers and were the only ones who knew how much guilt I carried. I didn’t know what I’d do without them.

I yanked open the truck door and let out a long-controlled breath while the silence seeped into my head. I flipped on the radio and sat back.

The ache in my chest returned when a small red Ford pulled in. My head immediately went to my mom, and I reached for my phone. My mind slipped back to the expression on her face just before I went out the door. I remembered how she’d cried that she loved me and how hard she’d hugged. I saw my father’s face again, and the fear of what I was about to do was written all over it.

I shook my head hard and let the anger back. Other families were proud to know their son wanted to fight for their country, but not mine. They were just scared. They hated that I’d joined JROTC and hated it even more when I left for ROTC. Shortly after that, I was packing for my first twelve-month tour, and I never looked back.

They didn’t get it; I was made to be a soldier. To do more and be more. I looked down at the phone in my hand and shook my head. I tossed it on the dash then slammed the truck door as I headed inside to buy that round of beer. I couldn’t let my parents know I was back. Not yet.

I blinked back the memories and found my phone once again in my hand. Without hesitation, I made the call I should have all those years ago.

Two rings, and the call connected.

“Hello.” Mom’s voice filled my chest with instant warmth. I tried to speak and instantly regretted the call as my voice caught in my throat.

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