3
JOHN
I awake with a gasp, hand clenching my chest. Dammit.Here we go again. I can feel my heart pounding, not only from inside my chest, but also through my fingertips. Sweat is dripping down my back as I sit up and lean over the edge of the bed. Focusing on taking deep breaths, I hold one hand tightly in the other, trying to lessen the shaking.
It was just a dream. It was just a dream.
Night terrors are nothing new. I deal with them often, although less frequently now than when I was first discharged from the Army six months ago. Up until my tour ended, I was part of a platoon that was stationed in Iraq. A lot of my time there was spent in combat zones, dealing with the constant threat of terrorism on top of engaging with enemy forces. Tonight was the first night terror in about a week, which I’m definitely considering progress.
I’ve learned a trick to help me through the aftermath; it’s called grounding. I latch onto the first image that comes to my mind: the new cottage guest, Mia. I start cataloging every little detail about her. Her long, blonde hair that was pulled back into a ponytail, her fair skin that was flushed from her run, her crystal blue eyes that had literally stopped me in my tracks. She was about a foot shorter than me, and I guessed her to be around the same age. I inhale a shaky breath, noticing it is slightly easier to take a full breath.
Okay, this is working.
Next, I try to remember the clothes she was wearing—which wasn't much to say the least—as well as her pink Apple watch and her white running shoes. After a few moments, I can feel my head clearing, and my body stops trembling. I force myself to take several more deep breaths until my heart rate seems to be settled back into something more normal. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s 3:45 a.m. Knowing I won’t be able to sleep the rest of the night, I drag myself out of bed. Might as well make some coffee and start the day. These night terrors always leave me feeling exhausted, but I am never able to go back to sleep.
The kitchen in my house is decent sized, with white cabinets surrounding the perimeter of the room and a large island in the middle. My aunt and uncle had deeded the house and guesthouse to me when they moved to California several months ago. In one of our many phone calls, while I was deployed, they told me they were moving, and they wanted me to have a place to call home. It’s paid off, so I just have to pay taxes and utilities, which is fine with me. They moved before I got home, then came back when I was discharged to help me get settled. The military offered to pay me for the first few months after I left the Army, which was enough to get me by. I don’t need much. Most of that money is gone now, but I make a decent amount by renting out the cottage to tourists.
Going through the motions to get the coffee ready, my eyes wander out the back window to the cottage. Guilt creeps in as I think about how rude I was to her yesterday. I hadn’t meant to not answer her when she was talking to me. What I experienced in combat overseas was life-altering, to say the least. When I came home, I had a hard time adjusting back to civilian life; I didn't know how to relate to people or situations that weren’t life or death. Over time it’s gotten slightly easier, but it's still hard for me to hold normal conversations. When I do try, I usually freeze up like I did yesterday with Mia. Especially when the person I’m talking to is a beautiful woman like Mia.
Sighing, I set my empty coffee cup in the sink, and I head to the bathroom to shower and start my day.
* * *
Walking out the sliding patio door, I grab the leaf skimmer from the shed where I keep the pool supplies. Starting on the right side of the pool, I start dipping the skimmer in and sliding it across the still water.
“Hey,” says a soft voice from behind me. I turn to see Mia coming across the driveway, a laptop bag on her shoulder and an empty tote bag rolled up under her arm. Most of my body tenses up, but I’m pleased to realize that a small part of me feels relieved she isn’t so put off from yesterday's encounter to approach me.
I manage a quick, “Hi.”
Her eyebrows raise slightly, as if she’s surprised I can speak.
“I forgot to say thank you yesterday for letting me do an extended stay in the cottage.”
I give her a quick nod. “No problem.”
Apparently, she took those three words as an invitation, because she launches into a whole thing about what she’s going to do today.
“I’m heading into town to go to that Farmers Market they have over on Main Street. I got some papaya yesterday, and O-M-G it was the best thing I've ever eaten in my life. So I’m definitely getting some more of that. Then I’m gonna stop at Julie’s. Have you been there? Have you met her daughter, Hazel? She’s so sweet. I’m gonna get some work done while I'm there for a few hours, and then I'll be back later.”
I wasn’t expecting her to say that much. I have no idea why she thought I would be interested in all of that information, and I’m not quite sure about what to do… so I do nothing. I’m frozen in place. I stare back at her, trying to decide how to reply so I won’t seem like an asshole. Before I can come up with anything decent, her mouth curls up into a small, shy smile, and she starts backing away.
“Well, have a good day!”
Shit.
Snapping out of it, I open my mouth, but she is already getting into the Uber before anything can come out. Well, so much for not being an asshole.
* * *
The next time I see her is later that evening. Sitting on one of the chairs by the pool, going through some mail, I turn my head when I hear the cottage door slam shut. I watch her come down the stairs, wearing a dark blue sundress. Her long hair is down and curled, framing her face. She has tan strappy heels on and is carrying a black purse. She is absolutely stunning. I find myself unable to look away from her as she climbs down the last step.
Even though I can't seem to push my lips up into a smile, I force a wave in her direction. This is my opportunity to redeem myself, if I can manage not to screw it up too bad.
She gives me a friendly smile. “Hey, John. How are you?” She comes to a stop at the edge of the driveway. “Julie told me about a local bar not far from her shop, The Toasted Crab. Have you heard of it?”
Of course, I have. In fact, one of my good buddies, Matt, is a bartender there. Before I can answer, she cuts me off.
“I’ve been here a few days now. I figured I would check out the nightlife.”
“By yourself?”
“Of course… who else am I going to go with?”
My jaw clenches involuntarily. I don't like that she’s going out by herself. Not that I don't think she can handle herself, because I get the feeling she likes to do things on her own, I just worry about what might happen if the wrong person notices her leaving the bar at night by herself. Hawaii is a relatively safe place, and the locals are great people—but you never know about the tourists. I feel protective of her for some reason. Maybe it’s the older brother in me. I want to tell her to be careful, to never let her drink out of her sight, and to wait inside the bar until her Uber arrives when she is ready to come home.
Instead, all that comes out is a strangled, “Have fun.”
Dammit, John.
“See ya later!” She waves to me and all but skips over to the Uber. Once again, I watch her leave, and I hate myself for not saying what I wanted to say. I also hate myself because I know there is no way I’m not going to The Toasted Crab tonight.