The Eternal Engagement

Would she regret having made the trip to see him?

She already had one dependent. Didn’t need another. Katherine had a choice. She could get out of his hotel bed, get dressed, and leave a day early. Or she could stay by his side until tomorrow and pray he gave direct answers to her questions.

They lay pillow-to-pillow facing one another. His arm hugged her hip. Her hand caressed his shoulder. A craving to feel him on top of her, inside of her, made her twitch.

“That was nice. Good morning, beautiful,” he said. “You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of this moment. I want to make love to you too, Katherine.”

If he had protection, perhaps they’d make love before her departure. The urge to orgasm lingered between her thighs, tingled on the tip of her nipples. She kissed him. Twitched. Kissed him again. Yes, she definitely was still in love with Lincoln, but she had to address the more important matters with a clear mind. “We have a lot to discuss.”

“Yeah, I know.” The disappointment in his voice lingered.

The stiffness in his dick pressing against her thigh lessened. Sex was not the solution to their plethora of problems.

Yesterday, once the helicopters and planes stopped flying over the hotel causing him to push her to the floor several times, draw his gun, then peep out the window, she lay in bed beside him exhausted. Their time together had progressed with Lincoln describing one gruesome war story after another. The worst, he’d said, “I can’t tell you.” She couldn’t imagine it being worse than what he’d graphically described—decapitation, amputation, rape, murder. She wondered if he’d done any or all of those things and more. He’d described death so vividly, the stench of decomposing flesh was stuck in her nostrils.

“Have you smelled a dead rat?” he asked.

She had and it was horrible.

“Close your eyes and recall the odor. Now imagine it’s not one rat but a thousand. They’ve been dead for a month. Someone takes a handful of the rotted flesh, stuffs all of it into your nostrils,” he said.

When he had said that last night, she almost threw up.

He concluded his description with, “Now inhale deeply and you’re almost there. Imagine this malodorous stench is trapped inside of you for years.”

At that point she’d gotten up, ran to the bathroom, vomited until her insides ached. She’d rinsed her mouth and nose, trying to erase the picture he’d painted in her mind.

There had to be a way she could help him. A loan from Steven, or she could do another favor for him, earn a few more thousands of dollars that she wouldn’t have to pay back. She was so indebted to her creditors, earning the money would be best. The sun had set and was now rising, shining through the curtains, beaming on Lincoln’s chest. She envisioned kissing his nipples, then trailing her tongue down his abs to his navel and below his pubic hairs.

She’d dozed off several times, but each time she’d awoken, Lincoln’s eyes were wide open. Sympathy sex wasn’t what she wanted to give him. She felt bad for him. His parents didn’t care about him? Why? He thought his grandparents didn’t care either. Why had he felt that way? Without his giving a definitive response, she was closer to understanding why he hadn’t contacted her.

“Maybe you’re afraid to love anyone,” she said, gazing into his eyes. His pupils seemed hollow, like a dark tunnel she could journey down and never reach the end.

“More like afraid to be abandoned by someone I thought loved me. Especially my mom and dad. Katherine, if you’ll have me back, please don’t ever leave me. I survived the war. Kind of,” he said, then chuckled. “But my heart can’t survive the ticking of a time bomb not knowing when or if it’ll explode.”

He started weeping like an infant, buried his face in the pillow. “I’m sorry. I hate for you to see me like this.” He swallowed his pain and sorrow.

A man, strong, muscular, handsome, and possibly more vulnerable than her, lay beside her naked in countless ways. She was closer than ever to becoming Mrs. Lincoln. Her next dream could come true by Jeremiah’s tenth birthday. But was she dreaming? Would a marriage to Lincoln survive his mental disorder? Would he be a good father or freak Jeremiah out?

“Don’t you ever sleep?” she asked, touching his face. “You were up all night and kept me up too.”

“Only when I’m medicated. Otherwise, I’m afraid to sleep. My mind never sleeps. Soon as I close my eyes, the war is like a movie constantly replaying in my head. I don’t want you to see that side of me. The way I wake up sweating, shouting, paranoid. It’s like constantly living in the war zone. My body is here. But my mind is still in Iraq. No one can catch or save me.”

She had one more day to be with him before heading back to Selma. “I don’t think anything can freak me out more than what happened yesterday.”

“Don’t be so sure. You haven’t witnessed my worst panic attack. I’m not sure I have either. Having PTSD scares me. I’m afraid of myself. That’s why, even though I really want to be with you, I have to wait until I can afford better treatment.”

“Better treatment? What are you talking about?”

“The cost for a private doctor to properly diagnose and treat me could cost six figures. The VA has a long list of patients like me. No real help. Just meds and more meds to numb the pain. They’re treating the symptoms, but until they address the cause, I’m a walking time bomb. I’m so afraid that one day I may not be able to pull back. One day, I may draw my gun, think I’m in Afghanistan, and pull the trigger. I fear who might be on the receiving end of the bullet.”

That comment helped Katherine decide what to do next. “Lincoln, come back home with me. I know enough people to get you professional help. My therapist can help you.”

He frowned. “I can’t afford to take care of you and Jeremiah, let alone pay for a shrink. I refuse to let you help me. Soldiers are strong. We make a way out of no way.”

“But you don’t have to be this strong. You can lean on me.”

“And what? Become another mouth to feed. I can’t do that. I won’t do that. When I’m better, I’ll let you know. Besides, I’ll be home for Christmas. I promised my grandmother. Can I see my son then?” he asked, looking sad.

“I almost forgot,” Katherine said, easing out of bed. She opened her suitcase, retrieved her DVD player and photo album. “I brought videos and pictures of Jeremiah to show you.”

Lincoln sat up. “Wow! Really? Okay, let me throw on something, run across the street, grab us something to eat and drink, and we can spend the rest of the day with you showing and telling me all about my son.”

“Can’t we just order room service?”

“I’m out of my meds. Gotta self-medicate to minimize the anxiety. I need a little more than food, if you know what I mean. Oh, can you spare a few dollars?”

A puff of air shot from her nostrils. Her eyebrows grew closer. “What happened to all the money I sent you?”

“I used it for this room and a deposit on my apartment. I’ll pay you back. I promise.”

“Please, don’t make me any more promises.” She was glad she had helped him, so a few more dollars didn’t matter. She opened her purse, gave him fifty dollars.

“Since you’re already naked, take a shower. Get her ready for me. When I get back, we’re celebrating. And I’m putting my ring back on your finger.” Opening the door, he looked back at her and said, “We are going to finally get married.”

Katherine had enough problems. She wasn’t sexing or marrying him. “Hurry back. I’ll set up the DVD player.”