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“There we were, suspended in time, waiting for someone to tell us our future. So much space pulsed between each of us, negative repelling negative. This was my couch and that was her corner and that was her recliner and that was her patch of carpet. I was afraid to start a conversation with anyone, afraid of their pain making my own heavier. I assumed they were afraid of me and my pain, too. So there we sat, islands within an island.”

“For the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of my future. Instead, I was excited by all the possibilities the world had to offer and eager to experience as many of them as I could. The list of things I wanted to do grew and grew. I wanted to see and taste and smell and touch everything. And the more I wanted for reasons rooted in curiosity rather than survival, the more I discovered about who I was at my center. And the more I was able to see my own potential and worth.”

“I had never heard of an IED until Cleve's injury. He told me that day that they could be made with marbles. When the bomb goes off, the marbles explode, glass shards shooting in every direction toward their victims. As he spoke, I imagined the innocent balls of glass I played with as a child, white with blue cat's-eyes in the center, the same shade as my mother's and my eyes. The toys wait in darkness, forced to play in a war they weren't designed for.”

“Young women wore colorful new dresses with high heels and false eyelashes. They clashed against the parking lot backdrop, dust whirling around them. There were babies too young to have ever met their fathers, parents holding each other in anticipation as they waited for their sons and daughters to arrive home from war. Cleve's unit--Third Battalion, Eighth Marines--had been gone seven months. Though everyone was excited to see those who'd survived, we also anticipated the sadness that would inevitably wash over us when the buses emptied too soon.”

“Brittany was lonely. She'd had Dillon during Carson's first deployment, and when he returned, he didn't seem very interested in getting to know his son. Then, half a year later, he was gone again. The baby could walk now, and Brittany had gotten used to being a single mom. She would have to adjust her life to fit a husband into it again.”

“Imperfect as our relationship was, I'd never believed in someone's love for me more. And something about being in love, despite the impossible circumstances we'd found ourselves in, made me feel invincible, like there was no obstacle in the world we couldn't get through as long as we had each other. Just us against the world.”

“The unfamiliar body part--I was afraid to name it--was out in the open, his foot nowhere to be found. I was later told to call it a "stump," a word I would never feel comfortable saying. The empty space below his knee sucked the air out of my body until I was empty, too. And then I was running in the opposite direction. It was too permanent, too real. His foot was gone. It was just fucking gone.”

“We'd fight, and then hours later, when everything settled, we'd forgive each other. We'd sit side by side in our chaotic world, knowing that, as shitty as our monsters were to each other, they were also connected. They understood each other. They were just as comforted by each other as they were triggered. We'd become enmeshed. Codependent. We also hadn't told anyone what was happening because we were afraid we'd be told to separate. We could deal with a lot, but we couldn't bear being without each other.”

“I didn't know at the time that it was common for people to use prescription drugs to cope with PTSD. I didn't know that the more opioids someone takes, the more sensitive they become to pain, making the opioids less effective. I didn't know that the number of veterans addicted to their prescribed meds had tripled that year. I didn't know there was an epidemic, not just at our hospital but country-wide, and it was just reaching its peak. The thing is, it wasn't my job to know.”

“I've never loved anyone like this before. It's like...I dunno, it sounds weird, but sometimes it feels wrong that we aren't physically attached. Like..." I smiled and looked down. "...like I was I could crawl into your chest and live there forever. Like I just can't get close enough to you. "You can live in my chest," he said. He leaned toward me and brushed his nose on mine before kissing me and whispering, " I love you, too.”

“I want to believe in us, but I have a lot of doubts," I said. Cleve was silent, and I could feel my throat closing up. "Just...I just hope you know, no matter how rehab ends and no matter what happens to us, I will never forget who you are at the core. And I will always love that person." "Please don't give up on me," Cleve pleaded. "I'm not giving up on you.”

“The concept of waiting, of being patient, had seemed so simple before. Not any longer. Where once I thought we had time to figure things out, now I knew there would never be enough of it. I'd been told my whole life that time was on my side, and I'd been lied to. I saw it now for what it was: time was amorphous, fluid, a thing without beginning or end, a thing that had the power to speed up or stop, a thing I could neither grasp nor control. Time had betrayed me, and I no longer trusted it would be there. Everything was urgent. Everything had to be done immediately.”

“I learned quickly that everything in the military that involves paperwork or money is more difficult than it needs to be. You have to be persistent and thorough, and even then, you'll probably be told "no" a few times and be forced to start the process over again. Finding help is nearly impossible. With a disinterested grimace, everyone will tell you that someone else is who you need to talk to until you realize no one knows the answer to your question or cares enough to find it. At that point, you have two choices: give up or be a pain in the ass. I chose the latter. Squeaky wheel gets the grease.”

“At first, I hated the men who hurt him. I hoped that the other Marines were able to find and kill the bastards who did this. I wanted revenge. But as time passed, I found myself wondering what the men's names were. What they had had for breakfast that morning. Whether they had families. I wondered what it was exactly that made them want to do it. To kill. I wondered how many of their loved ones had been wounded or killed in the war. I thought about how much they must hate us, too.”

“While I had no desire to be a Cinderella or an Ariel, it would've been nice to have had a ring before the wedding. To have had a wedding with a white dress. To have had some years together in a small rental with thrifted furniture and a couple of houseplants, where our greatest concerns were paying the bills on time and deciding who would be doing the dishes that night.”