Layers(95)

“He was watching the news about an attack on our forces in Kabul and he said he could tell it was Steven’s platoon by the few news shots he saw.”

I sink into the nearest chair; I am too much of an emotional wreck to hear this standing up.




“They don’t know for sure, but they’re talking about some missing and dead soldiers.” At the last fragment of her sentence her voice breaks. My father reassures us calmly, with a straight face. “There’s no need for panic. We don’t know anything for sure, which means we don’t know anything. Let’s go and check the news.” He takes off his glasses and cleans them at the hem of his shirt. Putting them back on, he holds out a firm hand for my mom to hold and she takes it with her unsteady one.

“Are you coming, Lely?” His eyes ask me to join.

“I want to call Tasha first.” I hug myself. There’s a sudden chill over me.

~~~

“Hey, Tash.”

“What’s wrong?” she asks at the sound of my voice.

I scratch the side of my thumb with my index finger nervously. “It’s Steven.” My voice turns fragile.

“Steven? What is it, Hales?” Her response is shaky and at my momentary silence she goes on. “Hales, you are freaking me out here. What happened?”

I fill her in as best I can.

“Is there anyone who can provide you with some sort of information?” she asks.

“No,” I sigh, in despair. All I can think in that moment is that I want to hear Daniel’s voice, but I cut off the thought before it evolves further into agony. We speak for a while till Tasha has to go. Before hanging up she offers to fly over to be with us.

“No need, Tash. I’ll be coming back in a day and a half.” My voice is weary.

~~~

When I share the news with Ian, his serious tone amplifies the way I feel. When I hear the worry in his voice I find myself unraveling.

“So how are we really doing, gorgeous?”

“Nothing that a combination of hard booze, yoga and heavy sedation won’t fix.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad to learn you’re uber fine.”

I snicker. “You know I’m just a phone call away, day or night,” he says as we hang up.

I stop myself before I dial the last digit of the number I so want to call and walk to the living room to join my parents.

We sit in silence, watching the repetitive news, even though they haven’t revealed anything in the past few hours. We sit glued to the screen drinking in each and every word, holding on to any piece of information that might give us hope. Same headlines, same images, same information about the ‘nine casualties in central Kabul today when a suicide bomber struck a vehicle in a military convoy’. The only elaboration is that of those killed in the attack, four were troops and five were civilians.

My eyes burn and my head aches. I’m nauseated, physically and emotionally drained.

“I’m heading to bed,” I say listlessly, finding the mere task of standing up challenging.

“Good night, Lely.” My parents’ soft voices blend into one. I hug both of them. Passing by the kitchen, I grab my phone before climbing upstairs to my childhood den.

~~~

Everything looks so familiar and yet so alien: the innocent lilac wallpaper that has slightly started to peel and fade at the left corner, the soft white, twin-sized bed still neatly covered by the lavender duvet decorated with feathery white clouds. With my mother’s preference for order my CDs and books are all in place. Only the fading shades and some stains on the cream rug in the center of the wooden floor reveal that it’s been a long while since the room was in its prime.

The teen I used to be is far from recognizable to the woman I’ve become. It feels as if a million years have passed since I last slept in this place, in this bed.

Kicking off my shoes, I slip under the thick, soft duvet with my clothes still on. As soon as my head rests on the pillow the dam in my eyes breaks, releasing a stream of exhausted, weary tears. With the tears a realization strikes me hard, a realization that’s been stewing for a while. There is only one thing that I want; there is only one thing that can release me from this excruciating pain. To be comforted with one embrace. I want to hear his voice; I need to hear his voice. I need him to tell me that everything will be okay and that he still loves me, just like he tried to a few days ago.

With trembling fingers I dial the number I’ve been fighting myself from calling for far too long. I close my eyes and wait to hear his voice.

At the first ring he answers.

“Hales?”

My name is a prayer of redemption on his breath. Tears block my throat. I manage to whisper, “Daniel, I need …” You, I whisper to a lifeless line and the faint beeping sound of my phone as it dies, along with my courage.

It’s a sign. I shouldn’t have. Think with your head, not with your heart. I bury my face in the pillow and sob myself to sleep.





Chapter 41: Daniel


I gotta do something about this restless anger ragging within me. Ever since that f**king article, I feel like kicking the life out of everything that breathes. I’m on edge at the smallest thing; rage has invaded every part of me with no end in sight. I’m too hazardous for my own sake. You need to blow it off, Daniel.