Page 68 of Hero Hair
Chapter Twenty
Macs
The destruction is fantastic in the most lowly, seedy way possible. The attacks were far-reaching and all-encompassing. Everyone I know was affected in some way. Martial law is being enforced by our military, the dystopian feel of it all being almost too much for even a seasoned government employee. Most days it’s complete melee anytime you turn around. There are checkpoints set up on the back roads and highways, which means traveling anywhere takes forever and it’s rarely worth it. The news is broadcast twenty-four hours a day, and the President of the United States gives weekly teleconferences from the Oval Office. It’s meant to reassure a country streaked by destruction and tainted by fear.
The SEALs are now being sent on missions unlike anything we’ve ever been assigned. We’ve been tasked to find the financiers and anyone connected to the attacks. It’s hard because we aren’t dealing with men overseas with an open agenda with guns pointed at our faces. We’re trying to skunk out our neighbors with hidden agendas, ones we would never be able to surmise. The attacks hadn’t been planned for long. Which is obvious to me, in a spot where intelligence is handed down, but America refuses to believe this wasn’t planned—or worse a conspiracy theory. When citizens are finished reveling in fear, they move on to anger. I get it.
I am a step above angry. I’m fucking rage-tastic. I want to kill and nothing is moving fast enough for my liking. My brothers have been spread out across the larger cities in the states.
“We’re headed back to San Diego, bro. You gonna call her?” Tahoe asks, grinning scarily. His face is streaked with black paint and he has a cut above his eye that was stitched by a medic with an obviously unsteady hand.
I wince. “That fucker had one job. One. That’s gonna scar,” I tell him, nodding at his gnarly gash. Our feet are dangling over the side of a chopper.
He laughs, a menacing sound. I’d hate to be on the receiving end of Tahoe’s anger. He got the gash from cocking his fist back too far before knocking someone out. He lunged forward and his head met the edge of a counter. I shake my head at the memory. Poor fucker didn’t even have the information we wanted. That’s our life these days. There aren’t rules of war anymore. Not when our nation is bleeding uncontrollably.
“Not everyone cares about being pretty,” he says. “There are those of us who care about doing our fucking job and not stinking.”
I cut him off with a hand sliced through the air. “And there are those of us who appear after the frag smoke clears like a vision of fucking perfection,” I tell him.
I give him some more imagery, mostly referencing with my guns, both types, and when he’s scoffing good and well, I stop with my daydream cocktail. He stops smiling when I do.
“I want to go see her,” I admit, looking over his shoulder at the rest of the guys boarding different aircrafts in preparation to leave. My hands shake a little on my lap and it’s why I’m so unsure about visiting Teala. “I can’t think of anything else.”
It took weeks to get my head straight after I left her. My focus should be on my job, but she’s there in every waking moment. She taunts me. She tells me I was wrong about myself all of this time. She tells me she loves me. My visions are vivid and heart punching. Teala doesn’t call me. Not even once. I suspected she would abuse the phone I gave her. I wanted her to. I merely gave the warning so I could sound like I wasn’t a complete lunatic. I mean, I was giving her government property to borrow for a spell.
“Regardless if it’s her or someone else you have to get laid when we get back home. You’re spun up like a fucking top. It’s been nothing but work…frustrating work at that for a month now. Bars aren’t open. Nothing is open. The only activity we’ll have is fucking,” Tahoe says, stretching out his legs.
Somehow I feel like he’s going to have a hard time finding a booty call during these times.
“I’ll have to leave her again,” I say. Even now, my fucking chest aches with need. With desire. With fucking love. “I don’t like it.”
Longing. I’d never had to define that word before in my life. If I wanted something I took it. Instant gratification. I didn’t know what it would feel like to have another person inside you that was thousands of miles away. The desire was crippling. I miss her scent. The feel of her bare curves on my fingertips. I miss sex. What surprised me the most was that I missed her laugh. I missed talking to her and watching her face when she didn’t know I was watching. I missed the way she could turn a conversation around regardless of what we were talking about. Her jokes. How sweat would bead along her hairline after she taught a class. The way her hair brushes her exposed shoulder blades when she wears her workout tanks. Everything about Teala Smart is what I long for.
“Who would enjoy leaving? You’re fucking crazy to get hung up on one woman.”
I’m not. I know that now. Tahoe will understand one day if he’s lucky. I smile and shake my head. “I’m fucking crazy. Yep, that’s me,” I say, reaching behind me to dig through the small backpack I keep with me at all times. I drink the rest of the water in my canteen and roll the cell phone around in my hand. I check the screen. No missed calls or messages. I grind my teeth together and punch the satellite phone number into my phone quickly, glad I memorized it before I left it in her care.
I type out several messages and delete them. What is the proper greeting after so much time has passed without interaction? I’m in more new territory. The chopper blades start up, cutting the air like razors. I hook myself in with one hand and slide my sunglasses down and over my eyes. The sun isn’t as hazy here in the mountains. I think because we’re closer to it. Some days and in some cities it looks hazy. That’s what scares me. The smoke masks its true splendor and I don’t care who you are, that’s fucking eerie.
Tahoe is playing Candy Crush on his cell phone, completely distracted by the colorful screen. I look back at the blank text box and think of Teala. Now that we’re headed back I’ve let myself think about her. I type out a rap song, then delete it again. I look out over the horizon and this is commonplace for me. It’s not for her, though. I swipe to open the camera and point it down at my ash covered boots. You can see the world underneath me, small and insignificant. I snap the photo and send it before I change my mind.
Sighing, I try to enjoy the ride. I haven’t been back to my house since I left Teala. I have no idea what I’m going back to. The neighbor was supposed to check in from time to time, but everyone is self-involved right now. Grocery stores are just now beginning to get shipments again. The economy is in the shitter. Some semblance of normal life is beginning just by proxy of time passing and fear diminishing. The hospitals are overcrowded and any place that can hold large capacities of people will be closed for an undetermined amount of time. I don’t look at the phone. There’s no way she’ll respond right away. I bet the phone is still at the bottom of the bag I left in her bedroom. It pings a message seconds later.
I lift it so quickly I almost drop it. It’s not a photo like I fully expected.
It merely says,I miss you.
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until moments after I read her message. My mind is made up to go and visit her as soon as I land. Before I go check on my house or do any of the other million things on my to-do list. Teala telling me, using words, that she misses me, is enough to tear my plans into shreds. I’ll get over her again when I leave. The pain is something I’ll deal with if it eases hers. If she feels a fraction of the mess that I’m dealing with, it’s too much.
When I was a teenager there was a girl I was pretending to date. I was really just fucking her on the weekends and after school in the bed of my truck. She had huge brown eyes with long lashes. People use the term doe eyes too frequently. This girl, though? She was the damn definition. She looked all innocent, convincing everyone I was tutoring her in physics and then tutored my dick instead. For a month or two I thought she could be girlfriend material. I had my eyes set on BUDs and becoming a SEAL, and she wanted to go to San Diego State. Feasibly, it could have worked. I wanted her to be my girlfriend for all the wrong reasons. She could suck a mean cock and would be conveniently local. Oh, the naiveté I carried back then. When I discovered women throw their pussy at SEALs, I squashed all possibilities of Doe Eyes and commitment. Chapter closed. The end.
I want Teala for all of the right reasons. Overcoming a mindset embedded for years upon years was hard in terms of acceptance, but easy because it was her. We’re coming from the same mentality. We met on a level playing field. The game of fooling her friends into thinking we were dating was a farce. We both knew it was more than convincing her friends for a trip to Vegas. We were trying to convince ourselves we could do something hard—almost impossible. The depth this thing burrowed into my world was catastrophic. It changed me to my core. Then, the attacks changed everything else inside me. The importance of things and people shifted.
The phone vibrates in my hand and I see that Teala sent another text message.I’m back at my apartment.
I didn’t tell her I’m on my way back, but she must sense it because I reached out. I feel like an ass for not contacting her sooner. Would a quick text have taken that much of a toll on me? It’s hard to say.
We’re crossing over Los Angeles Stadium right now and the ruins are shocking. It’s black and leveled from one of the more severe attacks. Several car bombs exploded in the parking garage and underneath the stadium. It crumbled up in smoke in a matter of minutes. The air is loud out here, with the blades chopping the sky. It’s a welcome distraction for everyone.
