For the last three months, Adrian Moore thought incessantly about how it would feel to be back on American soil. He thought about how he would comb through the crowd of families being brought back together to find his wife. He thought about how good it would feel to have her back in his arms and be able to touch her face and hold her tight. He thought about finally going home and being able to sleep in his own bed. He thought he would be able to leave this place behind him and move on with his normal life. He thought he would be able to forget about the things he had done and watched others do while serving their country.
Adrian Moore stepped into the airport searching for his wife and could only think about the people he left behind, the dead bodies that lay under a pile of dirt because of him. He couldn’t for the life of him escape that place, he felt like he shouldn’t have been there, among civilians like that. He watched as his fellow comrades dropped their baggage and lift their children into the air and kiss their wives and hug their friends and say goodbye to that awful place in the dessert, but still, Adrian felt out of place. They would never be able to go back to their normal lives, they would always be trapped by what they all did in Iraq, there was no forgetting the past, there was only keeping it bottled up inside, forcing the thoughts and images to the very back of their minds and attempt to go on living because they survived. They weren’t the one lying under a pile of dirt.
And at that moment Arian Moore was able to drop his baggage on the floor and take his wife into his arms, kiss her tenderly, blink tears from his eyes and thumb away hers. At that moment Adrian wasn’t in the dessert holding his M110 Sniper Rifle, waiting to pull the trigger the moment someone ran out of the house. At that moment Adrian was back to his normal life.
“I made all your favorites.”
Adrian stood in the kitchen and stared at all the food his wife had made for him. There were mashed potatoes sweet potatoes fried chicken roasted chicken pastas bread steak and a chocolate cake. Adrian’s heart rate accelerated as he thought about where he would begin.
“And one last thing.”
He watched his wife open the refrigerator and pull out a bottle of Budweiser, cooled to perfection and he almost started tearing again.
Adrian’s wife let out a small laugh when he did in fact start getting emotional. Adrian covered his eyes with one hand and took a deep breath, the smell of all the food entering his senses like a bomb. Adrian’s wife smiled and set the bottle down on the table as she walked over to her husband. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. With one hand she lightly thumbed the back of his buzzed cut hair and buried her face into his neck.
“I’m glad you’re home baby,” she whispered.
Adrian held her tighter, feeling the same way. He stood up straight, lifting her feet off the ground and just held her. He was on American soil with his wife and food and beer, and that’s all he thought about at that moment.
It was as if Adrian never went away to war, his wife never asked him about his experiences there. She never asked what he did because she didn’t care. She had her husband back and that’s all that mattered. They talked mainly about what had been going on on the homeland. Sharon had her second baby, Dave and Mary were getting a divorce, Carol’s kid was caught doing drugs, Greg’s new girlfriend is fifteen years younger than him. And they talked about the people Adrian met. Morrison was the funny guy, Adams was the youngest but talked so much shit, Daniels had enough brains about him to graduate Summa Cum Laude from any Ivey league school, Rogers hated everyone that wasn’t full blooded American.
They would enjoy each other’s company and then go out to visit friends and family then come back home and eat or go out to eat or eat at their friends and family’s homes. There were so many options on what they could eat and where they could enjoy their meals. Their main course didn’t come in individual packets that tasted nothing like what it was suppose to. And then they would go to bed. Adrian would kiss his wife, and then hold her as they slept. And in his dreams he would hear the screams, see the blood, and pray for survival as he ran through a house that was said to have some kind of explosive in it. And then he would wake up and wait for the sun to rise and start his day over.
This went on for weeks.
Adrian stood in the doorway of his bedroom and stared at his wife as she rummaged through her closet for something. All she had on was a black t-shirt and some panties. Adrian stood there trying to remember what it felt like to be inside his wife. Or what her moans sounded like. Then he wondered why he still hadn’t made love to his wife, why it had taken him so long to even think about it. Adrian thought about how all his comrades joked about a hard they were going to ram their significant other when they got back and he wondered if they stayed true to their word. He bet they’d probably jump him if they found out he still hadn’t been inside of his wife.
“Babe have you seen the box of light bulbs?”
Adrian’s wife stared at him waiting for an answer, when one wasn’t giving she went back to searching in the closet, rising up on her toes and stretching her arms up to reach the top shelf. Adrian watched as her t-shirt rose, exposing her backside. Then he thought about one particular time when she clawed at his back and cried out his name and he got erect.
“Where the hell did I put it?” Adrian’s wife mumbled to herself. She turned to ask Adrian again if he knew the location of the misplaced light bulbs and was a little startled that he was standing next to her. “Adrian?” She couldn’t break his gaze though it made her feel slightly uncomfortable. He had no real expression on his face as he stared intensely into her eyes.
Adrian crashed his mouth against his wife’s, pressing his body against hers. He slipped one hand down her underwear and gripped one of her butt cheeks and used his other one to keep her body close to his. His wife parted her lips allowing Adrian’s tongue to explore her mouth and moaned softly as she felt his hands travel up to her breast. Adrian’s wife tugged at his shirt signaling for him to remove it. She panted for air as he slipped it off then once again welcomed his lips eagerly. Adrian tugged at his wife’s bottom lip with his teeth then sucked on it hard then did the same to her top lip before caressing her tongue with his. Adrian’s wife breathed heavily through her nose as all her senses tingled. She could feel Adrian’s thumbs circling her nipples gently then with one swift motion her shirt was off. She moaned into his mouth again as she pressed herself against his warm body. She could feel his erection stabbing against her pelvis and groped at it through his pants. Adrian jerked forward a little shocked by his wife’s touch. She smiled slightly against his lips and squeezed a little tighter feeling satisfied when Adrian let out a deep moan. Adrian began backing his wife up towards the bed as he sucked on her neck, nipping at the spot that gave her chills down her spine. He sat her on the bed and she smiled up at him as he undid his pants. Adrian’s chest heaved in and out as he started into his wife’s eyes, he could feel his heart beating and couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t done this earlier. Adrian’s wife gripped his erection through the fabric of his boxers and stroked it lightly. Adrian’s chest heaved faster and he closed his eyes for a moment.
“The moment you see one of those fuckers run out, spray their asses.”
Adrian nodded clutching his M110 against his chest. He could feel his heart thumping in its cavity, trying to break out. He felt like he was going to throw up, something just didn’t feel right.
“US Army! Get your fucking asses out of the house now!”
Adrian laid on the ground staring through a highly magnified scope waiting. He waited for the moment he saw one of those fuckers run out and he pulled the trigger.
Adrian opened his eyes again and saw the tip of his penis in his wife’s mouth. She circled it with her tongue then grazed her teeth against it as she sucked. Adrian bit his bottom lip, tempted to shut his eyes again but didn’t. He pulled away from his wife’s hot mouth and began pushing her back onto the bed until her head was on top of the pillows. He hovered over her feeling completely drunk by her sex. Adrian’s wife smiled up at him and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her. This time she sucked and tugged at his bottom lip growing even more aroused.
“What the fuck Rogers! You said there was fucking insurgents in there, this was a fucking family!”
Adrian tugged at his helmet and paced around trying to catch his breath. He kept glancing over at the pile of bodies that now lay by the door and he wanted to throw up again.
“Calm the fuck down Moore. That guy was making bombs in his house.”
“We didn’t have to kill his whole family! The kids…” Adrian dry heaved then regained composure. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me there were kids in the house!”
“I didn’t think that fucker would send his kids out first. Fucking pussy.”
Adrian watched as Rogers spat at the man’s dead body, but hit the wife’s instead and he wanted to kill him.
“It’s alright Moore man, this shit happens. But we probably saved hundreds of other people’s lives anyway.” Daniels touched Adrian’s shoulder trying to calm him down.
Adrian shook his head still staring at where Rogers’ spit had landed.
“Listen to me!” Rogers grabbed Adrian’s jacket shaking him so he would look at him. “If you want to go join those fucking sand niggers you can go right ahead! Quit your fucking bitching, this is fucking war!”
“Adrian what’s wrong?”
Adrian opened his eyes to look at his wife again. He could no longer feel any rigidness in his penis and couldn’t think of anything to make it come back.
“Damn it!” He was frustrated and couldn’t look at his wife anymore.
“Hey,” she touched his face lightly. “It’s okay baby, don’t worry about it.” She kissed the corner of his mouth as she stroked his cheek telling him again it was okay.
“No it’s not.”
“Adrian, it’s fine sweetie.” She tried to catch his gaze again so that he could see she was serious, but he wouldn’t look at her.
Adrian buried his face in the crook of her neck and breathed deeply. She rubbed his back lightly syncing her breaths with his.
“You don’t even know Camille.”
Camille continued to rub his back simply listening to what he had to say.
“You don’t even know,” he said again shaking his head then taking another deep breath. She smelled like cinnamon. “Do you know what I did?” Adrian finally lifted his head to look at her.
He stared deep into her eyes and this time she couldn’t look at him.
“Adrian, it doesn’t matter.”
Adrian laughed, not in humor, but in disbelief.
“It doesn’t matter?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, we don’t need to talk about it.”
“I killed people Camille, do you realize that? I was sent to Iraq to kill people.”
Camille let out a breath, her eyes shifting to various parts of the room.
“Adrian you where only serving your country. You did what you had to do to protect your country.”
Adrian laughed again, this time at her ignorance.
“Nine-eleven was six years ago Camille. We’ve killed triple the amount of people they did. Why the hell are we even over there? Do you know?” Adrian waited for her to respond. “Yeah me neither.”
Adrian rolled off of his wife and laid on his back next to her. Thick silence surrounded them for a while before Camille sat up. She straddled Adrian pressing her chest against his and burying her face into his neck. She brought her left arm up and lightly stroked the strands of hair on the top of his head. She didn’t say anything cause there was nothing she could say. She really didn’t know.
Adrian waited for the moment he saw one of those fuckers run out and he pulled the trigger.
Adrian watched as the little boy’s body dropped to the ground and almost got up and ran towards him. He saw the mother run out next and shot her before she could grieve over her dead son. Next came a little girl and Adrian couldn’t. He closed his eyes and pictured being on base, where there was light and a fan and he could hear gunshots in a very far distance. When he opened his eyes again there were five bodies forming a giant red puddle and he threw up.
“Alright search the house! And be careful so you don’t blow yourselves up!”
There was no remorse in Rogers’ voice. But should that have been a surprise? Rogers lived to spit on every last sand nigger.
“You alright Moore?”
“What the fuck Rogers! You said there was fucking insurgents in there, this was a fucking family!”
Suddenly Adrian was keenly aware of his wife stroking his hair. Her touch was able to bring him out of the dessert and on a plane then through the airport and into the car then through the front door and into the shower where he used old spice for the first time in two years then in front of a plate of homemade food that he actually got to eat at home then into his bed where his wife laid on top of him stroking his hair.
Camille looked up at Adrian when she heard him laugh.
“I can’t even fuck my wife.”
Camille placed her forehead against his.
“Adrian, look at me.” Adrian fell into his wife’s hazel eyes. “Stop it.”
Adrian bit his bottom lip to refrain from laughing again.
“You’re so sexy.”
Camille’s eyes softened at his compliment.
Adrian thought back to when he showed Rogers a picture of Camille and he called her a sexy nigger. He said, “You got yourself one of them sexy niggers” and Adrian didn’t even yell at him for calling her that. He just took his picture back and went back to doing whatever he was doing. He couldn’t defend his wife he couldn’t defend his country properly he couldn’t even keep an erection. Camille sat up when Adrian pushed her lightly. She looked down at him concerned about what he was thinking.
“Adrian,” she breathed when ran his fingers over her nipple. Before she could protest, Adrian’s fingers found their way down her stomach to her underwear. She sucked in air as he stroked her through the thin material. Camille instinctively raised herself up a little allowing Adrian to move her underwear to the side. She gasped as she felt some of his fingers enter her. Camille moaned as Adrian pumped his fingers in and out of her and rubbed her clitoris with his thumb. Adrian watched as his wife bit down on her lip and threw her head back. She clamped her eyes shut and pressed her hands against his chest for support.
“God, I can’t even fuck my wife.”
Adrian retracted his fingers and gripped Camille’s waist so he could pull her off of him. Adrian got out of the bed and walked out of the room leaving Camille feeling completely empty.
Adrian slept for eighteen hours straight. After the twelfth hour Camille started checking on him in half hour intervals. Taking his grunts and waves as signs that he wasn’t in a coma. Finally when Adrian did rise out of bed he felt even more tired and delirious. He vowed to never sleep that long again.
“Are you hungry?”
Adrian looked around the kitchen and had to think about it. He didn’t feel hungry, but his body hadn’t had anything in the last eighteen or so hours. He waited to see if any hunger pangs came to cripple him.
Camille nodded then went back to reading her magazine. She stood at the counter trying to figure out which color this dress she liked would look better in.
“Are you going out?”
Clearly she was not dressed to go out, wearing shorts and a t-shirt, his t-shirt. Camille simply shook her head, deciding on the yellow one.
“Are you mad?”
This time she looked up at him, confused for a moment then realizing what he was talking about.
“Of course not.”
Adrian turned her to face him and grabbed her hips pulling her into him to close the gap between them.
“Are you lying?”
She stared directly into his eyes, there was no hesitation in her voice, no twitch in her eye, Adrian confirmed she wasn’t lying.
“Good,” Adrian mumbled into her neck before running his tongue across it.
“Adrian,” Camille whined feeling his erection against her. She placed her hands against his chest the put a small distance between them.
“I won’t leave you again.” Adrian took hold of her wrists and placed her arms around his neck.
“I just don’t want you to feel like this is something you have to do now.”
“But I want to.” Adrian bit her neck lightly.
Camille pulled back so that she could look at his face again.
“But you don’t have to.”
Adrian simply took her bottom lip into his mouth. His erection was throbbing and he didn’t know any other way to prove to Camille that he understood he didn’t have to. Adrian kissed her roughly. Mashing their lips together, he set the pace and Camille could only follow, stealing quick gasps of air whenever she could. Adrian finally pulled away for a moment to rip her shirt over her head, she was wearing a bra today and he couldn’t be bothered with it. His erection was in full effect and he wanted to be able to penetrate his wife before it went away again. Adrian tugged at her shorts and underwear. The moment Camille stepped out of them, Adrian spun her around bent her over the counter and entered her deeply. Camille grabbed the edge of the counter trying to process what she was feeling. Adrian was ramming in and out of her so fast, so deep she couldn’t make sense of things. She found herself gripping the counter for dear life releasing a few whimpers, her moans seeming to get caught in her throat. She sucked in a good amount of air and let out a loud moan when she felt Adrian’s fingers caress her clitoris.
“Oh God Adrian!” She cried out and he rubbed faster. “Fuck!”
Camille slammed her hand on the counter and cried out again. She felt like she could barely breath and couldn’t determine which feeling was more overpowering; her husband’s hot cock filling her two year void with such intensity she was actually tearing or the edge of the counter that cut into her skin every time he would slam into her. Camille tried to relieve this pain by pushing back against Adrian.
Adrian only dug deeper, taking her cries as words of pleasure.
“Adrian! God. The… Oh God! The fucking… The counter!”
Camille managed to get her message out between breaths and Adrian adjusted for her. Camille was literally gasping for air when Adrian pulled out of her, her head was pounding and her body throbbed for more. Adrian’s eyes searched frantically for another location, his mind wasn’t working right and all he saw were colors and the word sex everywhere.
“The couch.” Camille moaned. Her hands were shaking in anticipation.
Adrian aimed for the couch and settled for the living room floor. He stroked in and out of his wife’s sex not caring about the rug burn he was receiving. Camille wrapped her legs around him, only allowing his to perform short hard strokes. She pulled at her hair as her level of bliss went through the roof. She moaned out Adrian’s name, she cried out to God, she cursed at the amount of pleasure she was receiving, never once opening her eyes. Adrian stared down at her relatively amazed at his own stamina and continuously pounded in and out of her allowing himself to let out grunts and moans in between breaths. And then he felt it. His balls tightened as they sent his seamen shooting up into his penis. He stroked in and out of his wife relentlessly as he felt the build up in the base of his penis. Adrian was able to tune his wife’s moans of pleasure out, the sound of his heart beat taking over as the anticipation grew. Adrian let out a loud grunt as he bucked forward on last time. He came hard, filling his wife in an instant and leaving him faint for a moment. He collapsed his head into her neck trying to catch his breath, the scent of cinnamon entering his senses every time he inhaled. The red color behind his eyelids faded and Adrian rolled over onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, both him and Camille breathing as if they just ran a marathon. Camille laced her fingers through her husbands and they both just laid there staring up at the ceiling.
Does sex bridge gaps? Camille seemed to think so. The earth-shattering love that was expressed through an art so intimate so intense that still to this day Camille could barely believe it really happened, she certainly felt it built a strong foundation that she and Adrian were able to cross over safely, with no boundaries standing between them. It was even able to allow one microscopic sexual reproductive cell to shoot out of its home for the past week or so and travel through a dark cave, going as fast as it’s tail could make it. Fighting off his brothers and sisters, he followed this sensation that seemed to be calling to him. He went left when some when right feeling the sensation getting stronger. And after what is said to be the longest journey of one sperm’s life he reached victory, not wasting anytime before diving head first into his target. A ray of cell division silently occurred in a span of three days before burying itself into it’s new home, where it’s thrived and grown for the last five months. Yes, Camille would say, sex bridged a gap.
“It’s a boy.” With such confidence in her voice, Adrian could have sworn Camille knew the results of the test already.
“How do you know?” He asked her this every time she announced her premonitions on the sex of the baby.
Camille touched her stomach and looked at him with a smirk. “I just do. It’s a boy.”
“Are you feeling something I’m not?” Adrian squinted at her and touched various spots on her stomach looking for some kind of clue.
“I don’t know,” she laughed and touched her chest. “I can just feel it. It just feels like a boy, a fighter. I think we should name him Gavin.”
“Gavin?” Gavin was Rogers’ first name. Had he told Camille that? Probably not, if he had, she wouldn’t have suggested it, no one should want to share the same name with Rogers, no one. “What about Octavius?”
Camille laughed, completely appalled by his request.
“Why are you laughing? Octavius is unique, I haven’t heard of a single Octavius since like ninety BC. And you’re saying he’s a fighter,” Adrian looked down at her stomach for a second the flicked his eyes up and looked at his wife through his eyelashes. “Octavius was a fighter.”
Camille laughed again and touched his cheek as she pressed her forehead against his. “We’re not naming our first child Octavius.”
She kissed his lips lightly then went back to reading the Parenting Magazine that was left out in the waiting room.
“Fine then, I get dibs on our second child.”
“I still can’t believe you were right.”
Adrian tossed the mail on the counter carelessly and took a seat at the table. Camille laughed and started sifting through the pile of mail, separating what was addressed to her and what was for her husband.
“What can I say? I just know these things,” she bragged.
“Yeah, it’s like women get all the cool freaky stuff like that instinct thing and knowing how to ask for directions without feeling like a dumbass.” Adrian sounded truly amazed causing Camille to laugh loudly. She left the mail sorting for another time and took a seat at the table.
“Oh the wonders of female dynamics.”
Adrian smiled at his wife’s sarcasm then placed his head in his hands and simply stared at her with a goofy smile on his face.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re so sexy.”
Camille rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling anyway.
“Yeah well wait two more months and we’ll see if you’re saying the same thing.”
“You’ll still be sexy.”
Camille laughed his compliment away, a bad habit caused by petty insecurities.
“Well thank you,” she said finally.
Adrian grinned at her then leaned back in his chair placing his hands behind his head.
“And what about me?”
Camille laughed and shook her head. “You’re a stud.”
She got up from the table and walked out of the kitchen to the bathroom. Adrian was still smiling after she had disappeared. It was weird to him, always smiling like that it felt good. Every time he saw Camille he would get the same feeling he did when he saw her at the airport. The feeling that nothing else mattered and he would be able to get through anything as long as she was there. And now a baby, their baby, was growing inside of her and that was the icing on the cake.
Adrian grabbed the pile of letters that were now scattered on the counter, dismissing all the bills and looking for something that didn’t want to suck the little money he had out of his pockets. He settled on the plain white envelope that had his full name and address printed on it. He opened it carefully.
Order To Report For Induction
The letter seemed to have gained fifty pounds as Adrian read the first line over and over again.
“Order to report for induction.” He said it out loud, making sure he was reading it right. He glanced around the kitchen and swallowed trying to moisten his now dry throat. He double, triple, quadruple checked that what he was reading was in fact correct and couldn’t move on from that one line. His heartbeat quickened and he could suddenly feel every vein and artery in his body pulsing as they had blood pumped through them at an accelerated pace. Adrian shook his head and reread the few words on the top of the letter.
Order To Report For Induction
Finally the letter slipped out of Adrian’s hands and drifted onto the floor. Landing with barely a sound, the harmless piece of paper caused Adrian’s mind to explode with fear anger frustration confusion. His heart was thudding loudly in its cavity and he felt he might as well have been back on the battlefield. What if he didn’t come back alive? What if he came back with no use of his legs or with some kind of psychological disorder? He was lucky the last time, that’s all it was, luck. What if his luck ran out? Adrian’s panicked thoughts only caused this constricting feeling in his chest every time he thought about the horrible things that could happen. He couldn’t calm himself down and all his thoughts led to one thing, his fatherless son.
“What about Judah? It’s a little Jewish, well Hebrew actually, but it’s nice don’t you think?”
Camille stared at her husband’s back as he stood over the counter waiting for him to turn around and say something ridiculous about the name she picked out.
She closed in on him placing one hand on his back lightly. What remained of her smile disappeared completely when she saw his face. His eyes were vacant and his face was emotionless as tears brimmed over his bottom lids and cascaded down his face. Camille touched his face and called out to her husband again feeling a knot in her throat. Adrian continued to stare past her as if she wasn’t even there. Camille begged for her husband to look at her, asking what was wrong over and over again. She began sobbing imagining the worst and preparing for even worse.
“Judah’s beautiful.” Adrian finally said, still staring past her with vacant eyes.
“Adrian what is it? Just tell me.”
Adrian simply dropped to his knees in front of his wife placing his ear against her stomach and gripping onto her hips.
“This is fucking war, Judah.” Adrian spoke as if in some trance. “Fucking war,” he said again in a low whisper.
Camille lolled her head back letting out a loud sob. She placed her hands on Adrian’s head and shook her head side to side wishing, hoping, praying this was a dream, a nightmare. She cried harder when she didn’t wake up in bed lying next to Adrian who was usually already awake either reading something or writing or just staring at her as she slept. She felt angry, but couldn’t express it in any other way than through tears of pure sorrow.
Adrian thought about getting on a plane and flying back into the dessert with his new comrades, his new team, his new family for however long his term was going to be. He wondered how many of them would be leaving a weeping pregnant wife behind. He thought about how they would share pictures of ultrasounds with each other and he even went as far as to think about watching his wife give birth via Skype because he was going to make it that far. And then when his term was done he would be back on another plane flying far away from the dessert and he would comb through the crowd of families looking for Camille and little Judah, hug them kiss them and thank God he made it, and he would go back to his normal life. He imagined over and over again returning home safely, but the pessimist in him wasn’t allowing him to believe that. Adrian closed his eyes and saw himself lying on his stomach waiting to pull the trigger and let his mind go through the memory. As Adrian Moore remained kneeled in front of his wife he could only dread the tragedies that lay ahead and could only hope he wouldn’t be one of them.