And there’s still so much to do.
   Cole came around, not that I gave
   him a choice. I refused to budge
   on the location. I’d already given
   them a deposit. “We can’t afford
   to lose a thousand dollars,” was
   my excuse. “And, anyway, your
   mom said she’s happy to fly out.”
   So that was mostly that. Darian
   and I picked out an amazing dress.
   It’s knee length, strapless, ice blue.
   I’m not such a formal girl after all.
   And it was only four hundred dollars.
   I decided to save as much as I could,
   through simplicity. It’s turned into
   kind of a game, one I’m mostly winning.
   Except when Cole goes all silent
   on me. I try to ignore it when
   it becomes obvious he’s pissed
   at something I’ve said or done.
   I’m sort of getting used to it, though.
   WHEN I TOLD HIM
   About my plans for grad school
   next year, he went completely mute
   for quite a while. Like, a week.
   Finally, he e-mailed back:
   I THOUGHT WE DISCUSSED MOVING
   TO CHEYENNE. BUT I’VE BEEN THINKING,
   AND ANOTHER YEAR IN SAN DIEGO IS FINE.
   FOR ME TO QUALIFY FOR THE GI BILL, I NEED
   TO PUT IN SIX YEARS BEFORE MOVING INTO
   ACTIVE RESERVES. AS FOR CHANGING PATHS,
   WE ALL HAVE TO FOLLOW OUR HEARTS.
   It’s good to know he’s in my corner,
   not that I expected anything else.
   I asked about him requesting a transfer
   to Camp Pendleton. I got this back:
   ALREADY TAKEN CARE OF, AND I EXPECT
   APPROVAL. I’LL KNOW FOR SURE WHEN
   I GET BACK TO KANEOHE. NOT LONG NOW.
   I WANT WHAT’S BEST FOR YOU. FOR US.
   He’ll be back in two weeks. By then,
   I’ll have finished up this semester.
   Each year seems to rush by faster. I hope
   next year tarries. I’m scared, in a way.
   Half of me loves the idea of seeing Cole
   every day. Sleeping with him every night.
   The other half loves my freedom and
   is afraid of losing me to his dreams.
   FRIDAY EVENING
   Postfinals, I go over to Darian
   and Spence’s to celebrate. It will
   be the first time I’ve seen him
   since before the accident. He’s had
   two skin grafts and is healing
   “like a stubborn grunt,” according
   to his nurses. It’s been seven
   months. Still, Darian warned,
   He’s not beautiful. But he has
   come so far, mostly through sheer
   will. He’s even using a walker
   to get around now. It’s amazing.
   Amazing, and he’s more than good
   enough to stand up with Cole
   as his best man. He even answers
   the door. “Hey, soldier.” I give
   him a quick kiss on one cheek,
   trying not to stare at what’s left
   of his ear. There isn’t much.
   His face has a strange texture,
   too. But it’s definitely Spencer
   beneath it, reconstructed or not.
   “God, it’s so great to see you.”
   So great he’s standing here in
   front of me. Not as good as it
   is seeing you. Hey, Dar. We need
   more pretty girls around here.
   Can you work on that, please?
   Yep, most definitely Spence.
   Some things are hard to change.
   OVER LASAGNA
   And beer, we talk about school. Poetry.
   About surfing and nurses (hot and not)
   and wedding plans. Just like old times.
   Except someone’s missing. “Too bad
   Cole’s not here. But he might be soon.
   He asked for a transfer to San Diego.”
   I know, says Spence. No worries.
   He’ll get in, no problem. Cole is
   everything MARSOC could ask for.
   “He put in for MARSOC? He didn’t
   tell me that.” There is a Marine Special
   Operations Command battalion
   at Camp Pendleton. “But that’s extra
   training and more years of active duty,
   right?” I already know the answer.
   Well, yeah. But if anyone was ever
   cut out for special ops, it’s Cole.
   What else is he going to do? Be a cop?
   The question is what else is he going
   to do without consulting with me first?
   Lasagna starts churning in my gut.
   “I . . . just . . . he never said a word
   about it.” Not to me, only to Spence.
   Why the hell does he think that’s okay?
   ANXIETY BUILDS STEADILY
   The rest of the evening. I decide
   to leave early. Don’t need to freak
   out in front of my friends. Darian
   walks me to the door. “Sorry, but
   I’m not sure I can deal with this
   pharm-free.” Xanax is calling to me.
   What did you expect, Ashley?
   I told you there’s no happily-
   ever-after married to a Marine.
   “But I love him, Dar.” That, above
   all, is true. “And after everything
   we’ve been through, it has to work.”
   I’d take some time to seriously
   think it over. Think about what you
   want. Not about what he wants.
   Call me if you need to talk. I’m not
   going anywhere. Not for a long time.
   I drive home a little too quickly.
   Rush inside, hurrying to e-mail him
   and ask what the fuck he’s doing.
   But as I turn on my laptop, I reconsider.
   Instead, go take a pill. With tequila.
   Dar is right. I really need to get my head
   on straight. It’s feeling a little crooked
   right now. I need order. I drink tequila.
   Reorganize my kitchen drawers. Salad
   forks. Dinner forks. Teaspoons. Soup
   spoons. Perfectly stacked. Steak knives.
   Boning knives. Butcher knives. Ordered.
   SATURDAY MORNING
   I wake up, slightly hung over.
   My head aches, but at least it
   doesn’t feel crooked anymore.
   I take an ibuprofen, drink a quart
   of water. Glance at my computer,
   still dark, on the table. I leave
   it that way. Get dressed and head
   to the beach. The last thing I’m
   going to do is sit inside moping.
   Or make wedding plans. It’s gorgeous
   outside, the kind of day late spring
   gifts Southern California with.
   I’m not alone here. Not nearly.
   I skirt the ocean’s edge, avoiding
   children as best I can. They run in front
   of me, into the water. Duck behind
   me, toward their towels. No bombs
   strapped to their middles. Lucky kids.
   I keep walking, listening to laughter.
   Yelling. The build-crash-lap of gentle
   surf. Noises, lacking danger. I am
   blessed. California is my home. And
   this ocean is my heart. I can’t give
   this up for Wyoming. Was I naïve
   to believe he’d give up Wyoming
   for me? I picture his face. His grin.
   His gold agate eyes, holding on to me
   like treasure. I see him in camouflage.
   In dress bl 
					     					 			ues, surrounded by grapevines.
   I hear him say, I want what’s best for us.
   I STAY OUT ALL DAY
   Walk miles of beach, moving in and out
   along with the tide. By the time evening
   falls, my legs are sore. But my head
   doesn’t hurt, except from thinking
   so much. I will sleep well tonight,
   regardless. When I get home, I realize
   I haven’t eaten all day. I go straight
   to the kitchen, don’t find much except
   eggs, cheese, and enough veggies to create
   a semi-interesting omelet. I get busy on
   that, pull out the skillet, and have just turned
   on the heat when I get a call, not an e-mail,
   from Cole. Hey, beautiful lady.
   He’s working it, and I can’t say I hate
   that. Just arrived back in Kaneohe.
   They brought me home a little early,
   to facilitate training. I’ll be in San Diego
   soon. My transfer was approved.
   I turn off the burner. All of a sudden,
   I’ve lost my appetite. “Oh. Good. Um . . .”
   Just go ahead and say it. “I heard you put
   in for MARSOC. Is that right?” My stomach
   growls, but when I look at the beaten eggs,
   it kind of turns. Tequila might be better.
   Yeah. About that, I didn’t want to tell
   you until I knew for sure I got the transfer.
   I didn’t want to get your hopes up.
   Hopes up? What? “Cole, a transfer here
   is one thing. Special ops is something
   else. You never even mentioned it to me.
   You can’t make a decision like that
   without talking to me first. What’s your
   commitment, if you pass the screening?
   Two years? Four?” I don’t care about
   the answer. That isn’t the point. “I can’t
   do this much longer. That wasn’t our deal.”
   There’s someone else, isn’t there?
   Where have you been? I’ve tried
   calling all day. Is he there right now?
   What? How did we get from figurative war
   widow status to screwing around?
   “There isn’t anyone else! Do you really
   not understand what the last five years
   have been like for me?” I’m glad he can’t
   see me break down. Especially when he
   says, What they’ve been like for you?
   What about me, Ashley? I’m doing this
   for you. For us, and our future family.
   DENSE
   Is not a strong enough description.
   Doesn’t come within a klick of the distance
   between us. Distance that has nothing
   to do with miles. He sincerely believes
   what he’s saying. I know that. And I also
   understand that what I’ve been through
   because of loving him can’t compare
   to what he’s experienced. But where
   does sacrifice end? “Cole . . .” I let him
   hear tears, inflecting my voice. “I love you
   more than I ever thought was possible.
   There is no one but you. I’ve spent
   the last six months planning a wedding.
   Our wedding, you know like in ‘I take
   thee forever.’ But you and I have a problem.
   We don’t communicate like married
   people need to. Grad school was a big
   decision, one I definitely should have
   asked your opinion about. But MARSOC?
   That’s huge.” More like life changing.
   Maybe game changing, too. “Look.
   I don’t think we can rationally discuss
   this on the phone. I’m glad you made
   it back safely, and that you got the transfer.
   See you when you get here. Love you, Cole.”
   I HANG UP
   Before he can argue or offer reasons
   why special ops was his best path
   going forward. I’m sure he has plenty
   of them stashed inside his head.
   I could deal with another year
   of him on active duty. Maybe even two.
   We’re pulling troops out of Afghanistan.
   But, according to news stories,
   we’ll be replacing regular combat
   grunts with special operations forces.
   The leaner, meaner units will target
   insurgent leaders and encourage
   their ANP brethren to do the same.
   It’s the warfare of the future. Along
   with drones that do their dirty business,
   piloted remotely by guys sitting in comfy
   trailers in the Nevada desert, where
   cameras can show them the damage,
   but not the collateral carnage. I talked
   to a couple of them at the VA hospital,
   fighting PTSD. Sometimes they see
   the results of their surgical strikes on
   TV and it clicks. The video games they’ve
   been playing? Those are real people
   on the far end. Not aliens. Not zombies.
   The Bible counsels an eye for an eye.
   Wonder how many eyes Cole has plucked.
   I’m sure his debt to his cousin has been paid.
   ONE BIG QUESTION
   Comes marching out of the cerebral
   prison I’ve confined it to. I’ve invested
   five years in our relationship, and Cole
   has rewarded me with his amazing love.
   If something were to happen to him
   now, would that half-decade have been
   worth it? And if we get married, ride
   yet another wave of time together, only
   for me to lose him to a bullet, would
   I celebrate those years, or curse them?
   I need to talk to Celine. Almost four
   months since she buried Luke, the shine
   must have worn off the pain by now.
   I give her a call, ask if I can interrupt
   her Sunday for a short visit. She gives
   me directions to her house. On the way,
   I stop off for flowers—a huge spring
   bouquet, yellow roses and orange daffodils.
   I sent an arrangement to the funeral,
   but it likely got lost midst the dozens, most
   of them red, white, and purple/blue.
   Thus the yellow and orange. No reminders.
   EXCEPT THERE ARE REMINDERS
   Of him everywhere. Small flags
   decorate the white picket fence
   protecting Celine’s immaculate
   front yard. They flap, red, white,
   and blue, in the breeze. Inside,
   framed photos of Luke hang
   on the walls, and take up space
   on end tables. Luke, in uniform.
   Luke, holding his girls. Luke,
   kissing Celine. Luke, Luke, Luke.
   A shadow box holds the folded
   flag that had draped his coffin.
   That sits on the mantel of the little
   stone fireplace that takes up most
   of one wall of the living room.
   I’m not sure I could look at Cole
   like this. Not if he was never
   coming back to me. I’m not sure
   how to open the conversation.
   Celine saves me the trouble.
   Sit, please. Can I get you some
   coffee? When I decline, she says,
   Okay, so tell me. What’s up?
   Still planning a June wedding?
   “That’s just about all I’ve been
   doing . . .” I give her a quick rundown
   so we can push small talk to one side.
   I finish with, “Cole’s being transf 
					     					 			erred
   to Pendleton. He wants MARSOC.”
   Ah. And that’s counterintuitive
   to planning for a future together.
   I understand completely. Luke and I
   had a similar discussion once.
   “But you encouraged him to stay
   in, right?” Of course she did. That’s
   what all military wives do—support
   their soldiers, no matter what.
   Celine shakes her head. I told him if
   he reenlisted, it would be the end
   of us. Obviously, he convinced me
   otherwise. Love can be stubborn.
   “So . . . I don’t know how else to ask
   this, other than straight out. And I’m
   sorry, but you’re the only person I know
   who can answer it. Was it worth it?
   I mean, if you had it to do over, would you?”
   I’ve thought about this a lot, Ashley.
   Every day with Luke was a better
   day than one without him. But there
   were way too many of those days.
   I’ll always love Luke, and what
   we were together. But I’m watching
   my children suffer. And when I’m
   alone at night, I get so mad at him!
   How could he do this to us? Her eyes
   brim. Spill. Was it worth it? Probably.
   Would I do it again? No fucking way.
   I SPEND THE WEEK
   Tying up loose ends. Finishing
   my time at the women’s shelter.
   Finding a replacement volunteer
   for the VA hospital. After all, I’m
   getting married. Probably.
   I should be ecstatic. Barely able
   to control my excitement. Counting
   down the days. Somehow, I’m not.
   But how could I call it off now?
   All the plans are finalized. Except
   for the honeymoon, which will
   have to wait until after Cole’s training,
   assuming he’ll be accepted, and no
   one believes he won’t be. People
   are coming from all over to witness
   our “I do’s.” Even Dad’s parents,
   all the way from their retirement
   heaven in Alaska. Weird to retire
   in Ketchikan, yes. But they are
   the tree my father fell from.
   Mainstream is so not the family
   thing. At least, not on my side.
   Cole’s side? Well, they’ll just have
   to get used to us, I guess. I hope.
   I’ve spent a lot of time hoping lately.
   FRIDAY MORNING