“What in the hell are you even talking about?” I was utterly confused now.
“I
’m talking about the fact that you’ve conveniently forgotten that you got so drunk that you wound up in the lap of the most lecherous frat boy on campus. The guy that is so bad, even his frat brothers don’t like him and are meeting today to decide whether to sanction him or expel him from the fraternity for good,” he explained. “I’m talking about the fact that you didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting away from him because you were too drunk to even stand on your own two feet. I’m talking about the fact that you spent an hour vomiting in the bathroom after I brought you back here last night, and I’m talking about the fact that you are so self-absorbed that you don’t even stop to think about the fact that I wasn’t at the party to have fun, I was there to protect your precious little ass!”
By this point, Brian was pacing the room as he barked at me. Anxious and angry, he looked down at the floor as he paced; one hand on his head and the other on his gun.
“Don’t you think I would have loved to have a drink last night? To kick back and have fun with you after what we did before the party? Did you ever think of that?” he continued, then he stopped pacing and looked at me as he quietly asked, “Did you ever think of that, Ava?”
“No, I didn’t think of any of that,” I admitted as I felt the flush of shame rising in my cheeks. “I just thought you were uptight and boring and you didn’t want me to have any fun. I mean, you didn’t even have one beer!”
“I can’t have one beer!” he roared.
“Of course you can!” I yelled back in exasperation. “Good lord, it’s just one beer, not a whole brewery!”
“I can’t have even one beer because I’m an alcoholic!” he blurted. “There, are you happy now?”
We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity as I considered what to say. I owed him an apology, for sure, but he owed me one for keeping such a huge secret. I was certain of that, but I didn’t know how to say it so that he wouldn’t start yelling again.
“I’m sorry, Brian,” I offered. “I had no idea.”
“Why would you?” he asked defensively. “I’m your employee, not your friend. You know nothing about me.”
“Now that’s not fair!” I cried. “I think we’ve crossed over the employee/employer boundary and are something a bit more than that, don’t you think?”
“Whatever,” he grumbled as he resumed his pacing.
“And if I know nothing about you, then that’s your fault,” I asserted.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked incredulously. “You don’t ask me any questions about myself!”
“Well, that’s because you’re not particularly inviting, now are you?” I said flippantly. “Not exactly the warm and fuzzy guy who invites people to get all cozy and engage in chit chat, are you?”
“I have my reasons,” he grumbled.
“I’m sure you do,” I replied. “But it still doesn’t make you easy to get to know, now does it? And if I don’t know you because you choose not to let me in, then it’s really not my fault, now is it?”
He shrugged and walked toward the window. He pushed back the curtains and stood staring out the window for a long time. I said nothing, partly because I had no idea what to say, but also because I figured that if we were going to change the course of this relationship, right now was as good a time as any to begin.
PROTECTOR #3
“So, what made you stop drinking?” I asked.
“Long story,” he mumbled.
“Well, it seems I’ve got nothing but time,” I replied in a slightly sassy tone. Brian smiled a little and then shrugged. “Seriously, I’ve told you all kinds of messed up stuff about me, now it’s your turn. I’m sincerely asking to know more about you.”
“You really want to know?” he asked.
“Yes, I really do want to know,” I replied, smiling.
“It wasn’t hard to decide that I wanted to quit drinking,” he began. “It’s just that it took a lot longer to get to the point where I could stop.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because by then it was both a part of who I was and a way of dealing with all of the horrible stuff I’d seen,” he admitted. “Drinking is a part of Navy culture. It’s what you do to bond with other sailors, it’s how you spend your down time, and it’s what we did in the war zone to help us forget what we’d seen and, sometimes, what we’d done.”
“So, when did you start drinking?” I asked as I sat up, pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin on one as I watched him talk.