Page 65 of You & I, Rewritten

When she reached out asking to meet at the nearby coffee shop, the very place where we met for the first time, I had to remind myself to take it slow, regardless of my excitement and nagging curiosity. I couldn’t shake the feeling that whateverthiswas needed to be on her terms, but the truth is, I’ve genuinely missed her. Getting to know and work with Lana over those many months was the highlight of my career and if I’m being honest, I don’t think I’ll ever have that again. Which is depressing because now knowing all the facts, none of it was truly real.At least between her and me.

She’s already seated as I walk through the familiar café door, enveloped in the comforting scent of fresh coffee grounds and baked goods. Two lattes sit untouched in front of her and as I get closer, I can see she’s visibly trembling, her hands tapping gently on her lap.

“Hi stranger,” I say quietly, fearful of startling her.

She looks collapsed in on herself. As her gaze meets mine, while full of beauty, her expression shows the signs of many sleepless nights.I can relate.

I take my seat across from her as she pushes one of the lattes in my direction. “Thank you.”

“Of course…I know this should have happened alongtime ago, but I appreciate you coming.” Her voice is filled with tension and sadness, but she still offers me a small smile.That’s a good sign, right?“Will, I don’t even know where to begin,” she says, looking down at her hands.

“Why don’t we just start with how you’re doing?” My question seems to catch her off guard because her sharp eyes shift quickly to meet mine.

“Please don’t ask me that,” she snaps, tears now brimming in her eyes, which she tries to quickly wipe away.

Leaning forward, I place my elbows on the table. “But I want to know, Lana. Of all the people in the world, I feel likeyoucan relate to how I’m feeling. Lost, confused…” I can feel myself start to choke up. “…heartbroken.”

“I just…your father meant so…” Her words get caught in her throat, but she reaches across the table, clasping our hands together tightly. “Will, please know that it wasnevermy intention to hurt you. I had no idea things would escalate as quickly as they did, but I hope on some level, you can believe me when I say that…especially after getting to know you.”

This is where my confusion lies.And my hurt.Lanahadgotten to know me during our time working together and I guess I could never picture doing this to someone else. Especially someone you claim to care about.

“This whole thing has blindsided me, Lana…you have to see that. My relationship with my father had been nonexistent for years, so all of this has really just reopened old, painful wounds and introduced ones I never even saw coming.”

“I know and I…” I put my hand up to stop her.

“Hold on, I just need to say this,” I interject. My intent today is not to make her feel worse because it’s clear how much pain she’s in. I don’t want to be the reason she hurts even more. “When you came bursting into the hospital and handed me what turned out to be my father’s book and his letter, I was so overwhelmed with confusion, but because of everything that was going on, I had to put that on the back burner. So, when I opened it and finally was looped into the truth, I was angry—an emotion I don’t feel often.”

Leaning back slightly into my chair, I slowly remove my hands from hers. “I felt so betrayed and like a fool, something my father had made me feel for my entire life, but coming from you? The deceit and the continuous lies crushed me.”

Her shoulders sink at my confession. “But over the last several months, I reread my father’s letter repeatedly, so many times that I can recite it from memory. He said not to turn my back on you, which I have no intention of doing. I was hurt and confused, but please know that I am not mad at you, and I couldneverhate you.”

I watch as the relief washes over her. With tears streaming down her face, she grabs for my hands again and tightens her grip. “Will, you have no idea how much that means to me. Saying how sorry I am feels so meaningless in this situation, but I’m never going to be able to stop apologizing. I am so,sosorry.”

“I appreciate you saying that…but if we’re going to move forward, I don’t want to keep making you feel like you have to apologize. I do have some questions if that’s okay? Like how you and my father even met in the first place?”

Dropping my hands and leaning back into her chair, she lets out a deep exhale, one she must have been holding onto this entire conversation. “I was a Field Intelligence Officer in the Marine Corps, one of the only women in my unit, and a damn good one. Not that I was doing it intentionally, but I was presented with opportunity after opportunity to outshine my peers and rose through the ranks quickly. The men didn’t like that…” Her voice trails off as she looks out the window. I can only assume what happened next and it for sure isn’t my place to pry.

Bile rises in my throat and my fists clench. After my time interviewing several female service members and veterans for the coffee-table book, military sexual trauma is far more common than people would like you to believe, and yet it’s hardly ever talked about.

“Your father came into my life at one of the lowest lows I’d ever felt. I’d just separated from the Corps after the worst year of my life. I was broken, empty, reliant on booze and drugs and meaningless sex. What I told you about my mother when we first met? Her only daughter joining the military was hard enough—the Marine Corps of all things. When all of this happened, she couldn’t handle it. I had nothing and no one, so when he offered me a hand when it felt like my entire world had turned their back on me…that is something that I will be forever grateful for.”

She takes a long sip of her latte before wrapping her arms around herself. “He recognized my pain and trauma before I even could, and if your father hadn’t been there that day, I promise you we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation.”

“Obviously, I had no idea…I am so sorry, Lana.”

“I’m not. From one second to the next, meeting your father was a pivotal moment toward my recovery and he never left my side as I got the help I so desperately needed.” She smiles softly and I can’t help but wonder what memory of him she’s thinking about.

That version of my father isn’t one I’ve ever known and I’m ashamed at how jealous hearing this makes me. “Wait, was he sober?”

“Oh yes…when I met your father, he was at least six or maybe seven years into his sobriety.”

Okay, well now thatactuallymakes me angry.

“Six or sevenyears? He’d been sober for six or seven years and didn’t reach outonce?” I shout, unable to contain the rage fueled by the abandonment of my father. He’d been sober this entire time and instead of reaching out to his actual kid, he’s off playing savior to a complete stranger. I know none of this is Lana’s fault, but come on…

Lana stares at me with knowing eyes. “Will, I’m not going to sit here and try to make excuses for your father or speak on his behalf.” She places her hand on my forearm. “But I will say that as a recovering addict myself, I had to throw everything I had into my sobriety…every ounce of focus and energy I had, because I knew that if I got relaxed or didn’t take it seriously enough, everything I worked so hard for would all come crashing down. I had to put my sobriety ahead of everything else so that someday, the things and the people I loved most in the world could come first. I think your father might have been the same way.”

It's a beautiful sentiment and the logical part of me can understand how that makes sense, but it certainly doesn’t change how much it hurts. Was I a trigger for him? Did he keep his distance because I reminded him of the worst version of himself? Unfortunately, I’ll never know, and if that isn’t the saddest realization, I don’t know what is.

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