N/A: Hey there guys! Hope you’re enjoying the holidays. I’m just writing to let you know I’ll be going home with the missus for New Year’s so I won’t be updating anything for about two or three weeks. However, I’ll upload three or four chapters in a road today, (I think, I might be wrong) to compensate. Hope you’re spending time with your loved ones and hope to see you soon. Happy Holidays and happy New year!
The day before I was supposed to leave for training, I allowed myself to feel all the anger I had repressed, I trashed my room the way a rock star would. No stone was left unturned. I locked the door and turned everything upside down, tears falling down my eyes as I did. I tried to stay positive. This is just another step in my life, this is just another… another… way…
After I had ruined my room, I let my mother walk in and hug me. My dad stood by the doorway, like a ghost. I had never hated someone as much as I hated him then.
Before I went to bed, in my trashed up bedroom, I packed everything making sure I wasn’t leaving anything important behind. I grabbed three love letters Faye had written for me in the last five years of our relationship. A picture of Louise, Mike, Scott and even Bill, all gathered up in front of the camera after a long day of playing paintball. Another picture of Faye, a small one, something I could carry with me at all times. I packed the best clothes I owned and a couple of books to pass the time. An empty bottle of perfume of the fragrance Faye used to wear. A shirt that belonged to her but she didn’t use anymore since it was to worn down. I also carried a picture of my family, I removed my dad from the frame; and a picture of the Burtons, plus an Elvis Presley album Mr. Burton had given me. It included Can’t help falling in love.
I remember I couldn’t sleep. I rolled over from one side of the bed to the other, counting sheep and doing breathing exercises but my mind kept revolving around the day to come, the tears we’d shed, the goodbyes. I managed to close my eyes and get some rest at nearly two AM. I got up at six to take shower and eat breakfast. I went to the Burton’s home to pick up Faye, who wanted to go with me to the bus stop. How could I say no? I hugged Barbara and Eric Burton and promised them I would take care of myself and nothing would happen to me. Looking back on it, I probably shouldn’t have promised that.
My father drove us to the bus station. The whole family was there to say goodbye. Even Scott showed up saying he couldn’t just let me go without a hug and a good luck. As the bus got ready to leave, I hugged my family. I hugged Connor and made him promise he would take care of mom, I hugged mom and told her I loved her, thanked her for everything she’d done for me, for how she had tried to be there for me and support me. I hugged Scott and asked him to take care of Faye. She’d be alone and sad and I wanted her to have someone who could be there for her. I let go of Scott and stared at my dad.
“Dad,” was everything I said as a goodbye.
“I’m very proud of you, Riley.”
I snorted “Like I care.”
The bus was about to leave so I walked up to Faye, whose eyes were watering, but she held a smile on her face until the last moment. I wrapped my arms around her tight. I swear I could hear our hearts breaking. I smelled her hair, kissed her cheeks and her lips.
“I’ll come back, I promise.” I whispered to her ear.
“And I’ll wait. I promise. Just write as often as you can, okay?”
I nodded “I love you.” I said trying not to cry. I was supposed to stay strong for the both of us.
Faye let her tears roll down like crystals falling from a cascade. “I love you, too. So much. I’ll love you forever.”
I kissed her again and took a deep breath. It was time.
I turned my back on her, with her hand still holding mine, as if she wasn’t ready to let go. I wasn’t ready either, but we had to. I walked towards the bus feeling the tug of Faye’s hand, refusing to leave me. It took every ounce of strength and determination I had to do it, but I kept walking until, relentlessly, her hand couldn’t hold on to me anymore. The moment she let go, she broke. She fell to her knees crying. Scott and my mom grabbed her before she hit the floor.
I got on the bus, sat on one of the sits by the window and placed my backpack next to me. I looked back at the pain I was causing the woman I loved. She was crying like a little kid. The engine roared to life. Faye looked up at me and ran to place her hand on the window. I placed mine in the glass to match hers just before the bus started slowly accelerating. Her figure became small in the distance. As I couldn’t see them anymore, I felt a knot form in my throat. My breathing grew erratic and tears started streaming down my cheeks.
The first two weeks were brutal. I got up at five in the morning to get yelled at. Whipping the floors, doing pushups when you’re late, eating garbage for lunch; going from Mommy Hotel to Training wasn’t a joke.
I had issues with the getting up the first few days. And the getting yelled at in the face. It made me angry, but I still knew I had to push it down and control it. I got called out a lot during the first week for never being up and ready on time, or for talking back to my superiors, which caused me to melt my arms down with pushups as punishment. But as weeks went by, it got easier. I became more discipline, more obedient, less argumentative, and a lot less angry. In the end, I didn’t even notice it anymore.
I still remember the first time I ran through that track, I think I will always remember it. The dirt in my mouth, the sweat falling down my eyes, blinding my sight, the burning sensation in my chest when I believed my heart would explode. We arrived at the track at eight, after taking a shower, making our beds, cleaning up everything we were told to clean up and then, only then, eat breakfast. We were to complete the route in teams of three. I was the only woman in the team and was expected to delay them. You see, we don’t leave each other behind. At least, we are not supposed to. When someone can’t keep going, you pull them until they do, and if they don’t, you thrown them onto your shoulder and you keep going.
No man left behind.
I’m ashamed to say, I did slow them down… the first time. We had to carry close to twenty pounds in equipment and run through puddles, crouch through tunnels, and crawl through small pipes half way filled with less than clean water.
The first time we went through the track, my team didn’t break any records, but at least I didn’t slow them down enough for us to be last. By the time we arrived at the goal, we were sweaty, smelling like sewer, with every muscle of our bodies burning. We dropped onto the floor filling the pain slowly retrieve. Longest thirty minutes of my entire fucking life.
By the fourth weeks, however, I was getting used to it. The exercise, pushing your body to the absolute limit, not giving up when you’re tired. I was getting good with guns, tactics and maneuvers. To my own surprise, I turned out to be the fastest in completing the fire track, which consisted in getting from one point to the other, while shooting at targets that could be still or moving. My team went from thirty minutes in the first week on the track, to twenty two in a month.
My classes were exhausting, they consumed the little energy I had left. They tested us at every opportunity, gave us confusing information, put our ability to make hard decisions in difficult moments to the test every single day. They had to make sure that once we were out there, we would be able to guide and lead.
Of course, you always run into the asshole who’s not fine with the females in the team, but you also run to some very nice guys who think it’s amazing, and way overdue for women to be more involved in the army. John and Kyler. They were my teammates on the tracks, and were always covering my back when it came to things I wasn’t as good at. In exchange, I help them with their aiming, tactics and, at times, I even saved their asses in the tracks. Returning the favor for not abandoning me the first week after I delayed them.
After twelve weeks of training, hard work and many good and bad moments, graduation day came. My family was there, Faye and the Burtons were there too to watch me walk up, get my diploma and become a Second Lieutenant. As my mother hugged me, the Burtons and my father congratulated me, I felt out of place. As I watched everyone else with their families, receiving their diplomas, making plans I noticed everyone else seemed so happy, so achieved. I was scared.
John kept repeating to himself “My name is John Quilter, I’m a Second Lieutenant of the United States army.” As if he couldn’t believe it himself. There was so much pride in his voice. Me? Watching Faye there only made things more difficult. Out of forty seven officers, only eight girls graduated with me. Only four of them were sent overseas. You guessed it, I was in that pack.
And I was shipped overseas the very next week.
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