Searching for Tomorrow (Tomorrows) (27 page)

He stretches his long limbs out across the bed and yawns so big that I hear his j
aw pop. “Yeah, let’s eat. I could probably use a nap, too.”

I head bac
k to the bathroom to get dressed, and for the first time, I pay attention to the nasty clothes he was wearing when he got here. As I pick them up off the floor and look closely, I recognize his camouflage uniform. At least I think it’s his. The space over the breast pocket where his name goes is empty, and the chevron and rockers that signify rank are missing. The clothes are not just filthy, but threadbare and ripped in places. Various size holes cover the drab once-white t-shirt, and one of its sleeves is missing. Whatever has happened, it was bad, and my worrying nature makes me wonder just what is ahead for us.

I dress quickly, and
after stuffing the disgusting clothing into a bag, I make my way back into the bedroom. As I start to speak, I see something that I never thought I’d see again, and it makes my heart sigh. Tripp is sprawled out on his back, sound asleep, and quietly snoring. I change my direction and gather some clothes for him from the closet, thankful that I’d never been strong enough to clear out his stuff. Placing them carefully on the bed, I then tiptoe out of the room. Common sense tells me to close the door, but I refuse to put any physical barriers between us.

My built-in
mother mode makes an appearance, and given his emaciated frame, I decide that he needs something easy to digest. My mental list starts ticking off items one by one, and settles on chicken noodle soup. That’s one of our basic comfort foods around here, and because I normally make it in big batches, it won’t take long to thaw and heat up. It’ll be great with some cheese toast, and should fill him up without making him sick.

As I putter about t
he kitchen floating in my own personal bubble of euphoria, the ringing of the telephone brings my wandering mind back to the task at hand. Since everyone who knows me should expect me to be at work and not home, I let the answering machine earn its keep, while I dish up the soup and carry the food to the table. After the beep to begin leaving a message sounds, a familiar voice from my past fills the quiet around me.

“
Wrynn, honey, it’s Tiffany. Girl, I’ve left you several messages. Are you ignoring me? Marcus and I are in the car, and we’re on our way up there. Lori and Randy are in town, so we’ll meet up with them first, and then we’ll all head over this evening.”

She keeps talking, so I walk over to answer the phone and chat with her. As my hand makes contact with the receiver, a harsh voice barks
from behind me. “Do. Not. Answer. That.” Startled, I spin around, and standing there in the kitchen doorway is a very angry Tripp.

“Tripp, baby, are you okay?
” Confusion muddles my mind. I’ve seen him mad before, but this Tripp seems almost hostile. His posture is stiff, and his jaw is locked, almost as if he’s fighting against himself to speak. The anger is almost tangible. “Look, your soup is ready. Why don’t you just sit down here and eat, and tell me what the heck is going on.” He seems fragile, almost as if he’s going to flip out, so I make my movements slow and steady as I approach him. Reaching out with my hand, I grab his arm, and fold myself around him, striving to sooth and calm him.

After a few seconds,
his body loosens and he buries his face in my hair. When he speaks, his voice trembles. “I just got here. I. Just. Got. Here. And now they’re coming to get me.” His arms come around me in such a tight hold that my breath hisses from my body. “I need to be here with you. I need to hold my girls. I need them to leave me alone, and let me have a minute of my old life back to spend time with my family.”

As I struggle to draw a breath
in, the urge to squirm becomes too much. He lets go of me in a flash, and taking my face in his hands, places a tender kiss on my lips. “Sorry, babe. First, I scare you, and then I smother you.” He takes a deep breath, and harshly rubs his face. “Yeah, let’s eat, and I’ll tell you as much as I can.” I lead him to the table, and after he sits down, he sips at his soup. “Mmmm, this is perfect, Wrynn. Exactly what I need.”

I sit quietly as he eats, and when he starts slowing down, I’m glad, because my attempt at patience is beginning to fail me. “Okay, baby. I’ve waited as long as I can stand. Tell me what the heck is going on here.”

Reaching across the table, he gathers my fisted hands in his, and rubbing small circles with his thumbs, he starts to speak. “Well, you know that I can’t share much with you, but I’ll tell you everything that I can.” He takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “When we left that morning, it was supposed to be just a routine mission in a rather unsavory place. We’d been there before. In and out. Smooth as clockwork. There wasn’t any reason to believe this would be any different. Just six guys and the pilot, all revved up and raring to get the surveillance over and done with so that we could get home.” He gives my hands a gentle squeeze before laying them on the table. He stands and starts pacing around the kitchen, randomly running his fingers over different items on the counter. The faraway look in his eyes tells me that his mind has traveled back in time.

“
Everything was going great. We got there and landed, and received our orders for when we had to be back. On the flight over, we’d already discussed what we needed to do, and learned what Intel we needed to gather. Now, all we had to do was become part of the jungle and get the job done. Simple, right?” He suddenly stops near the sink, and with a murmured curse under his breath, he spins and asks, “Do you always leave these curtains open? If I close them, will anybody watching the house notice?”

When I look at him in confusion, and fail to respond, he snaps, “
Answer me, quick. Do you ever close these curtains?”

“I-I rarely c
l-close them,” I finally manage to stammer. What is wrong with him? His paranoia is contagious, and I begin to feel it, too.

He slides down the cabinet
to the floor, and scoots his way back over to me at the table. The strange look in his eyes startles me. “We’ve got to go back to the closet. There aren’t any windows in there.”

“Tripp, you’re starting to scare me. What is wrong?”

“Babe, I told you already. They’re coming for me, and I need more time before I have to leave.”

“Then let’s get back to the closet so you can tell me what all this ‘leave’ crap is. You just got here. If you think I’m letting you leave again, you’ve got another thing coming.” There’s a harsh edge to my words, because no, I’m not letting him go. I will fight anyone who tries to take him away from me.

As he scoots out the door and heads down the hall, I follow behind him. “You know you can stand up, right? There aren’t any windows in the hall, and the blinds and curtains in the bedroom are all closed.” He ignores me, and when he crosses the threshold of our bedroom, he turns over onto his stomach, comes up on his forearms, and pulls his body into the closet. His behavior convinces me that some part of him has been broken, and I can only pray that it’s mendable.

When he grabs my hand and pulls me down to the floor, I hiss. “That’s it. Why are you so paranoid? This is your house, for goodness sake. No one is going to make you leave.”

I don’t know if it’s my words, or the sharp tone that I use, but something breaks through the weird glaze that came over his eyes in the kitchen. His shoulders slump and he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Sorry, babe. Every move I made, every word I said, everything I did, someone was always watching, just waiting for me to slip up. I didn’t know who I could trust, and I still feel like I need to look over my shoulder constantly to see who is watching.”

I pull his hands from his eyes, and place a kiss in each palm. When a shadow of a s
mile crosses his face, I climb in his lap, and wrapping my arms tightly around him, I admit to my confusion. “I still have no idea what you’re talking about baby, but I have to tell you, these ups and downs you’re having? They’re kinda scaring me. Let’s just start with the basics, first. Where have you been?”

That look flashes across his face again.
Just for good measure, I squeeze him tighter and loudly clear my throat.

“The thing is, babe,
you know I can’t tell you where I was. I can tell you that I was in the jungle. There was the pilot and six of us. We had a trouble-free landing, and the mission went off without a hitch. Two weeks, babe. Two weeks. I should have been home in time for Christmas.” His body starts trembling, and he raises his face to the ceiling. “We met back at the location where the helicopter was supposed to pick us up. As it hovered to land, we came out from our hiding place and ran over so we could get the heck out of there. We were about 50 feet from it when, all of sudden, it exploded.” Tripp shoots to his feet, carelessly dumping me to the floor, and begins pacing in the confined area. His eyes look longingly at the door, and an idea comes to me.

“Tripp, honey, give me just a second to check on something, and then we’ll be able to finish talking on the bed.” I grab several sheets from the closet shelf, and then rush around the bedroom to cover all of the windows. If it helps him feel more secure, then I will do whatever it takes.
I sit down on the edge of the bed, and call out to him. “Baby, peek your head out and see if this is enough covering the windows. If not, I’ll hang some blankets, too.”

He cautiously peeks around the door, his eyes darting from window to window, and finally coming to rest on me. He walks out of the closet and comes to sit beside me. “Thanks. That’s much better. I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me
, but the closet was shrinking around me.”

I wrap my arms around him and rest my head on his shoulder, but resist the temptation to burrow my face in his neck. There will be time for that later. “Okay, the helicopter blew up. What happened next?” If I didn’t keep him on track, we may never finish this conversation.

“The sun was going down. We were moving in the twilight of the day. The coming darkness was supposed to work in our favor, keep us safe. The sky lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, and the force of the explosion threw my body. When I hit the ground, I thought for sure that all my bones were broken. I couldn’t move through the pain. It hurt to even breathe. My ears were ringing so loud that I couldn’t hear anything over that stupid buzzing. The heat was intense, and I wasn’t even near the flames.”

He pulls me closer to him, and buries hi
s face in my hair. “I should have been assessing the situation, trying to figure out how to get out of this mess, but I couldn’t. All my thoughts were on you … the girls … your faces, your laughs, your love. The thought of never seeing you again, holding you, touching you …. Well, I couldn’t handle that. I was being ripped apart from the inside out. I was close to blacking out when I felt hands on me, pulling me through the tall jungle grass. I guess I did black out because I don’t remember much else about that journey through the jungle.”

It takes every ounce
of strength that I have in me to fight the sobs that want to break free. My mind has traveled to that dark place with him, and I don’t know if I can listen anymore. The pain in his voice rips through my heart. Just when I think I’ve done a good job of hiding my struggle, I realize that my tears have soaked through his shirt. As if that’s not enough, I feel his tears as they seep through my hair to my scalp. His strangled whimpers reach my ears the moment his arms tighten their hold, and these very actions speak louder than any mere words ever could. His grief, his anger, his fear are pouring out, and I realize that his hurt, his suffering may be deeper than mine was.

“Shhh, baby. I’ve got you. Let it all out so we can start
the healing.” I speak quietly as my hands attempt to soothe the tension from his shoulders and back. “You’re here now. You’re safe. It’s all over now, and whatever haunts you, we’ll get through it.” I feel as if my words are inadequate, my touch insufficient, but I don’t know what else to do or say as the strongest person I’ve ever been blessed to know falls apart before me. All I can do is try to hold him together, and if I don’t succeed, I will help him pick up the pieces and start anew. For as long as it takes, I will be by his side, loving and supporting him.

Tripp’s breathing calms
and his sobs quiet as his body relaxes against me. My hands trail a path up and down his spine, and within minutes, I realize that he’s fallen asleep, again. I carefully lower our bodies to the bed so that I can just stare at him as I gather my thoughts. So much has happened in the time that he’s been gone, so many things that I want to tell him. He’s still not explained who’s coming to get him, but it’s not too difficult for me to understand. Both the Underwoods and the Craigs have made their presence known in the last few days, and because I know that they would never willingly hurt me, I have to believe that this is their way of preparing me for things to come. Because really, some things will never change. The Army will want Tripp back to debrief him. His only choice will be to go freely, or go under duress, because regardless of his wants or needs, he will be leaving again very soon.

They will return him to me, but I have no way of knowing what mental or emotional state he will be in after reliving everything.
While he is required to keep information from me, it won’t be the same with his superiors. He will have to remember everything that’s happened to him, but even more, he’ll have to report it. I can only pray that this will be a therapeutic release for him, possibly opening the doors to his becoming whole again. I will be contacting my friends at the Wounded Warrior Project for support and assistance, because there is no doubt in my mind that we will need it to get through the days ahead.