Page 3 of Diamonds in the Dark
In all the time we were together, he never changed. He only learned to be more discreet when he wanted to have different women. I had hoped that in time, he would eventually stop and love me the way I so desperately wanted him to…the way I loved him. The joke was on me though, he never changed, and he never will. This would have kept going on even after we were married. I am glad I was able to get out now before it was too late.
I am now left to question myself as to how I ever allowed myself to get involved with him, let alone fall in love with him. I had all these fantasies that I could calm him down and change him into the man I wanted him to be. That I could keep him happy and all he would need was me. When he asked me to marry him, I was stunned. I didn't think we would ever make it to that level. I thought we were finally moving forward and that everything was going to work out for us. I was ecstatic that I was the one breaking his sick and twisted patterns. I was so happy and excited! He loved me enough to give me a ring and his last name! I was who he had chosen to spend his life with. But, this is no Cinderella story, there was never to be a happily ever after.
I realize I have been sitting here on my bed, in a wet towel, lost in my own thoughts. I have chill bumps all over my body. I throw on some old sweatpants and a sweatshirt and head back downstairs to the kitchen. I make a grocery list because I am going to need everything. This is like starting all over. I remember I also need to call my realtor and have my condo taken off the market. I start a to-do list alongside my grocery list. I pick up my phone and I have twenty-five missed calls, only two of them are not from Edward, one from my dad and one from Becca. I call my voicemail and listen only to my dad's message.
“Gwendolyn, this is your dad. I thought you might be home by now. I was calling to see if you were still taking the flowers out to your mother’s gravesite this week. I also wanted to see if you would like to get together one night this week for dinner, my treat! Call me back when you get this. I love you, sweetheart.”
I had forgotten all about taking the flowers to my mom's grave this week. I bought the flowers last week and I think they are still on the front floorboard of my car. So, all I have to do is go put them on her headstone, of course I can never just go and put flowers on the grave and leave. I must visit, or it doesn't feel right to me. I add the flowers to my forever growing “to do” list.
I am kind of glad I have to go to Mom's grave this week. I don’t mind going, as morbid as that may sound to most people. It would be better if I could visit her in person, but that is no longer a possibility. I enjoy spending an hour or so there, talking to her and spending time thinking, when I visit. It is peaceful there. Usually there isn't much noise except for birds chirping in the trees. The cemetery where she’s buried is beautiful, well, as much as a place like that can be. She has a pinkish-gray granite bench right in front of her grave so I can “sit and visit”. The bench was one of the things she always told my dad she wanted when they talked about dying. She did not want people to come and stand over her grave; she wanted them to come sit and “visit” with her. There are also beautiful gardens that are bursting with vibrant color this time of year, and it is beautifully landscaped with fountains and Koi ponds that always draw my attention. I love watching the fish swim, they bring peace over me in a world that is anything but. If you can get past the fact that you are in a cemetery, it can be quite breathtaking.
When I go to visit her, it makes me feel closer to her in some peculiar way. I know she isn't there, but it helps most of the time, if only for a little while, the pain of her not being here physically. I miss her terribly. Some days it still doesn’t seem real to me that she departed this world and left me here without her guidance. I feel like at any minute my phone is going to ring, and it will be her, asking me to come have dinner somewhere with her and Dad or wanting me to go shopping with her at a new store she has found. The calls I miss the most though, are those special calls, just to see how I am and to let me know she loves me and is thinking about me. I miss everything about her. She was my rock and my soft place to land, navigating this world without her has been hell.
My mom, Cindy, died 2 years ago from complications associated with pneumonia. It was unexpected and left my dad and me both in complete shock. She was healthy when they admitted her into the hospital, except for the pneumonia. We were certain she would be fine and back at home within just a few days. She was in high spirits the entire time she was in the hospital and did not want us to leave. She wanted us there so she would not be lonely. She was a talker and talking she did. For a couple of days, she seemed like she was getting better. She was eating well, not doing much napping and talking to everyone that came in the room; nurse, doctor, cleaning persons…It didn’t matter who they were. If they came into her room, she would talk to them. She would want to know all about the person, and by the time they left her, I am sure they felt like they had just made a new best friend. She wasn’t nosey. She genuinely cared about everyone she met, and she offered as much about herself as she asked from them. In her world, there was never a stranger, only people she had not met yet.
Unexpectedly, she took a turn for the worse. We never would have imagined in a million years what was fixing to occur. The doctors were all concerned at the change in her progress, and they immediately started running numerous tests, one right after another, trying to find what was going on. The result was she had bacteria in her lungs that had gotten into her bloodstream. Unfortunately, they found it too late, and the treatments were not successful.My dad and I were devastated…if that is even a strong enough word. It has been a long and hard road for us both. We are still learning how to live our lives without leaning on her for support and so much more. She was the love of my dad’s life and his best friend. She was my personal cheerleader, best friend, and counselor when I needed her to be. Yes, she spoiled me. Being an only child, I guess you could say both my mom and dad have spoiled me. Dad and I have learned over the past two years to lean on each other. Because of Mom’s passing, we are a lot closer now than we ever have been. The only thing is, I cannot talk to my dad about certain things that I could always talk to Mom about like sex, woman problems, and the asshole men I seem to attract to myself like flies to shit. I may be twenty-seven years old, but Dad still sees me as his little girl, and that is what I will always be to him, or so he says.
I pick up the phone and call my dad back. I know it will be short and sweet because he hates talking on the phone. I also know if I don't call him back, he will worry. I choose not to tell him about Edward right now. That is something we can talk about when we go out to dinner. I am positive he will have a lot to say about all that. When he answers, it's basically: Yes, I am taking the flowers this week and that dinner this week would be great. I could really use a father/daughter date. We agreed on Thursday night, at his favorite Mexican restaurant. The thing about Dad…we always eat athisfavorite restaurants. When it comes to food, there is never the argument of “where would you like to eat?” It is plain and simple. He knows what he wants and lets you know.
I look at my phone again and think about listening to the rest of my voicemails, but I just don't have the want or energy to listen to all of them and I am in no mood to listen to Edward’s voice. I am mentally exhausted. I look at the time and decide since it's already seven, I will text Becca to let her know I am okay and that I will talk to her later. I decide to call it a day and crawl into bed. I curl up under my quilt and cry myself to sleep as all the events from the day catch up to me.
Chapter 4
Asher
I don't understand it! To be honest, I don’t understand much of anything anymore. I am living in a constant state of confusion; it is like a nightmare, only I am wide awake. So much has changed since coming back home from the Middle East. It almost feels as if I don’t belong here anymore, and maybe I don’t. All I can do is stand by and watch the constant destruction happening all around me in the country I fought for, and in my own family. It kills me to feel like such an outsider to everything and everyone. I feel like an alien in my own home country.
The worst part is watching my twin brother, Zach, self-destruct. He has fallen into a world, unknown to me, of drug use, drinking, and partying. We never even did this shit as teens back when we considered ourselves wild and rebellious. Why would he start all this now? Has he lost all concern for his own well-being? It is driving me insane. I stand by and watch, but I am powerless to help him in any way. My parents are at a loss of what to do for him as well. My mother is plummeting into a deep depression and looks as if she has aged ten years overnight. She cries and worries all the time, often having to go into another room when Zach is around so he doesn't see the hurt he is causing her. I think she should let him see the pain he is causing her, but that's not how my mom works. She has always hidden her emotions from the world. My dad seems to be numb and just living day to day. He also looks to have aged quite a bit as well. I cannot reach out to them though. I have tried numerous times, to no avail. So, at this point, all I can do is sit back and watch as they fall apart and hope for a miracle to fix their son, my brother. We used to be what I thought was the perfect family. Not that we were perfect, but we were close and supported each other for the most part.
My brother and I have always been extremely close, as you would imagine identical twins to be. We were best friends growing up; we didn't need, nor want other friends in elementary school and junior high. We had each other. We understood each other in ways no one else ever could. Our teachers always made nasty comments to our parents that we needed to stop depending on each other so much, that we needed to make other friends and be more social. When we moved on to high school, we both started to spread our wings a little and found friends of our own. We never lost our closeness though. We still preferred hanging out together over hanging out with other people.
When Zach and I were a few weeks from graduating, we were spending a lot of our time, night after night, in our bedroom discussing and stressing about our futures. We had shared that room our entire life, although we had plenty of other bedrooms in our house, we just always preferred to share a bedroom.
One night we both came up with this wild idea to join the Army together. It was an impulsive decision, and we made plans for the day after graduation to meet at the recruiting office and enlist. We didn't tell anyone, not even our parents. We were just going to go and enlist. It would be our way to see the world and to escape this God-awful small Tennessee town. We both agreed it would also be a respectable way to start our adult lives and if we hated it in four years or so, we could get out, chalk it up as an experience, and move on to college or careers. Neither of us liked the idea of four more grueling years of school that we would have to suffer through if we went to college. I had received acceptance letters from three different colleges and Zach had received several himself. We knew Mom and Dad were going to be furious. They had big dreams for us and were more than willing to pay our college tuition, but their dreams were just that…their dreams, and not ours.
The day after graduation, as planned, I got up early and went to the recruiting office just as they were opening for the day. We didn’t go together because Zach was hanging out with some friends after graduation and ended up staying the night at one of his buddies' houses. I waited for him for hours outside the recruiting office, he never showed up.
I was pissed that my brother would back out and not even have enough balls to tell me he had changed his mind. Sitting there in that parking lot, I made the biggest decision of my life and one that I made completely on my own. I decided I was just going to do it. I knew it would be a good career, and honestly, I knew if I didn't do it, I was never going to do anything worthwhile. I had no desire to go to college, that was for sure. I didn't even know what I would want to study or what kind of career I would want in the future. I was ready to start my life and the Army seemed as good a place as any to get started. I walked into the recruiting office alone, scared, and excited and started the process to my new life.
My parents were beside themselves with dismay when they found out. I didn’t tell them until after I took my ASVAB test and had my departure date for boot camp. They could not believe that was the type of life I wanted for myself when they were offering me the world with college and numerous choices. For weeks, all either of them could say was how disappointed they were in my decisions and how childish I had been to go do something like that without fully thinking it through and talking with them first. I don't think they were really mad. They were scared for me, well, and the fact I did this without talking to them first. It seemed they couldn't understand it was my life and my choice. If I had talked to them first, they never would have allowed it to happen. I still would have had to go behind their backs to sign up if they hadn't completely talked me out of it or guilt tripped me from joining. I love my parents, but they were always a little too overprotective and controlling. I believe this is because Mom and Dad had wanted more children but were never able to have any more after me and Zach. Mom had several miscarriages and the doctors advised her it was too dangerous for them to continue trying.
I was relieved when boot camp finally came around, just to be away from them and all their disapproval. You would have thought, from the way they were acting, I was running away to join the damn circus, and not signed up for something as respectable as the Army to serve our country. I was saving them a boatload of money by not going to college anyway. One would think they would have at least found something positive in the situation. I still don't understand why they could not have been at least a little proud of me. In truth, it hurt my feelings, but I tried my best to never let it show in front of them.
Zach had his own agenda that morning after graduation. He had thought that if he didn’t show up at the recruiting office, I would never go through with enlisting on my own. He finally came to me one night about a week before I was to leave for boot camp, after avoiding me as much as possible in the weeks leading up to me leaving. The truth was, he had gotten scared and decided that he would rather go to college. That was why he did not show up. He explained that the thought of signing up during wartime paralyzed him with fear every time he thought about it. I understood his feelings of fear. There had not been a day that went by since signing up that I had not had this exact same fear…the only difference was for some strange reason, I really wanted to do it. He was surprised that I had gone through with it. He explained he knew without a doubt that I wouldn't sign up if he didn’t show up. He couldn't believe that I actually went ahead without him and did it. I explained to him that I understood and that I was scared as well, but I was also excited. Excited to see places and experience things I never would have if I had not enlisted. Zach cried and begged me to forgive him that night. Of course, I forgave him, how could I not? He is my best friend and my twin. I love him more than anything.
I never regretted signing up for the military…for the most part. I do have a few regrets, but what can be done about them now? Everyone must have a few regrets in their life. I am glad in more ways than I’m not, that I joined. It matured me a lot, made me a better man, and I learned to live without depending on my brother and family so much.
I had new brothers and sisters from the first day of boot camp on. On my four tours in Iraq when the fighting was the heaviest, I would have readily given up my life to protect any of the soldiers I was with at any given time. Any real soldier would give up their life for their fellow brothers, which is just how it works with us Jarheads.
Since coming home from my last tour in the Middle East, I have been living in a complete fog, full of darkness. I cannot figure out completely what is going on or why. My nights and days run together with little to no meaning to me. I cannot seem to sleep at all, and I wish so much I could help my family. I am useless to everyone, so it seems, and I am not sure how I could be of any help, to be honest. Zach is making a mess out of his life all by himself. However, anything would be better than just watching the whole damn world fall apart for my family.
Chapter 5
Gwen
My phone starts blaring some random song I downloaded to use as my alarm. It is not at all pleasing to my ears, or brain first thing in the morning. I don't think it should even be classified as music at all. It sounds more like screeching crows trying to keep a musical tune but failing miserably. It works great as an alarm though. It's impossible to sleep through.
I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids feel like they are glued shut from crying myself to sleep last night. I rub the tear crust from my eyes and slowly open them against the sun already streaming in through the blinds. It's blinding and makes me want to cover my head with my blanket. I mentally go over my to-do list trying to decide what I want to tackle today and what can wait until a later date. Just thinking about getting out of bed sounds exhausting, let alone all I need to get done. I groan and snuggle deeper into my blankets, trying to hide myself from the day as a child would hide from a monster that lives under their bed. A few more minutes…or, hours of sleep would be nice, that is all I want at this moment. I settle on just getting myself out of the bed and taking a shower, then I will worry about all the rest. A nice, long, hot, and steamy shower until the hot water runs cold is exactly what I need right now to wake me up. Then, a nice hot cup of coffee as a chaser.
