“And say what?”
“Nothing really. He loves the music. Wants to know all about the artists—Joni Mitchell, Crosby, Stills and Nash, Richie Havens, Country Joe, Janis, Credence, the Who, and especially Dylan. Says if it weren’t for the music, he doesn’t know what he would have done over there. Says it was the one thing that kept him from going insane.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Says if he had it to do over, he’d go to prison before letting them use him like they did.”
“Does he ever talk specifics?”
“No,” she said, snuggling her head under my arm and onto my chest. “Sometimes I get the feeling he wants to, but then he gets this glazed look and shuts up.” She paused. “I don’t push it. He’ll be all right. It’s just going to take time. He certainly doesn’t need you or anybody else pressuring him.”
“That’s the last thing I’m doing,” I said defensively. “I’m just trying to help.”
“He’ll ask for your help if he needs it. Until then, just let him be,” she said curtly, rolling over, away from me. “Go to sleep. You’ve got another early day tomorrow.”
Five A.M. came as it did every day. The faint buzzing from the alarm somehow found its way into my gray matter, activating a series of involuntary electrodes to start the transition from dreamland to reality. By the time I hit the snooze control, my brain was kicking in. It was time to get up. I left Karyn alone in bed, like I had to do every day since our honeymoon. The fish market never closed, so neither did our cannery. The mornings of Karyn rolling over, barely conscious, reaching out with her eyes still closed, begging me to stay and make love, were long gone. She no longer even groaned at the sound of the alarm.
Once the steaming hot shower started to work its wonders, I was able to shake the cobwebs out. The morning would then start to grow on me, especially summer mornings. I loved the tranquility of a new dawn, the quiet stillness on the water and the peace of mind that settles in while going through familiar routines: the mirror steaming up from the hot water; the fresh aromas that fill the room after stepping out of the shower; the clean scent of shampoo lingering in the heavy air. I liked the comforting feeling knowing that things are as they should be: knowing my love was just past the door, tucked securely under the thick warm down comforter, sleeping like a baby. But not today.
Leaving Karyn was never easy, but when it was raining it was twice as hard. We’d had such a wonderful summer, especially now that Shane was home. During the past few days, while we’d been prepping the boat for winter, we’d started to dread winter’s arrival. The only interesting part was watching old man Wilson salute Shane whenever he saw him. Shane would stop whatever he was working on, stand up straight and salute back. The night before, we’d watched the storm track on radar together during the late news. Even though I knew it was coming, I just wasn’t ready for the start of another winter. Especially not this morning.
The whole time I was getting ready for work—listening to the wind and rain pounding against the windows, knowing how damn cold it was going to be once I stepped outside—all I wanted to do was climb back into bed and wrap my arms around my wife. But I had to settle for giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. She barely moved as I whispered, “I love you” before I headed out. That first storm of the season sent a cold chill down my back as I lowered my head to make my way up the dock to work.
Karyn thought there was nothing wrong with the fact that her talks with Shane now included some holding and comforting. Shane was a friend, and nurturing him was a normal response for her, giving to a friend what he so desperately needed. In her heart, she felt Shane not only needed her love, but also deserved it. She couldn’t deny him what he needed to become whole again, knowing none of his old high school flames he’d been seeing could give him what he really needed. And even though she was infuriated when he’d come home some nights reeking of their perfume, she held her tongue. How could anyone blame her for giving him the one thing she knew would make him whole again?
But as tears continued to pour from his scarred soul, simply holding him was no longer enough. Karyn became possessed by a primal instinct she had no control over—an instinct so powerful, so strong, it was driving her beyond reason, beyond rational thought. Men go to war; women pick up the pieces. Men kill; women nurture. The tattered anti-war poster hanging next to the back door had taken on a whole new meaning since Shane’s return. Make love, not war.
So, without thinking of the repercussions, Karyn allowed her body to give in a way only a woman’s can. The boundaries of right and wrong blurred and melted away. What began as a selfless act of giving, driven only by compassion and friendship, became a fire burning with such strength that denial was no longer an option. She gave herself completely, over and over again. She withheld nothing. Their needs engulfed them in a fire so powerful nothing in the world could have kept them apart. Moments of tenderness would be swept away, leaving them gasping for breath. With their lovemaking lasting all day, everything in her life—except Shane—became meaningless. One veteran’s healing had begun.
As their days of making love turned into weeks, then months, somewhere within the deepest reaches of their collective consciousness, they had to know their actions would have far-reaching consequences. A price would eventually have to be paid, because within the balance of nature, for every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. Karyn knew she was saving the life of a man she had known all her life. Little did she realize that in saving one man’s life, she was destroying another’s.
She knew what had started out as controlled compassion was now an obsession raging out of control. She couldn’t help herself. She wanted Shane’s touch more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. Her body ached for him. She’d lie awake in those predawn mornings, pretending to be asleep, waiting for me to leave for work, knowing Shane would be inside her the instant I left. Her body longed for his touch, almost hurting with anticipation. With each passing day, their love erupted with more passion. As they clung to each other, covered with sweat, the steamy scent of their love hanging over the bed, they knew it was only a matter of time. They were beyond caring if they got caught; they threw pretense to the wind. Getting busted would be a relief.
Even when the signs are all there, the one whose heart is about to get ripped apart always seems to be the last to know. When I first began sensing something was going on between them, I remember resisting those subtle alarms firing off primal warnings deep within my soul. There’s no way. The two of them together? Those thoughts went against every fiber of my being. It felt so surreal, as to not even seem possible. They’re my best friends, for Christ’s sake, I muttered to myself, driving to work. I kept visualizing Karyn lying in bed, curled up in her favorite fetal position, all warm and toasty under our thick comforter, her golden hair tousled with a few stray strands gently lying across her forehead, her slow, deep breathing as she slept, her soft skin, her slender long legs and beautiful breasts, so inviting, so alone.
A horn blasted behind me, jarring me back into reality. Dazed, I eased away from the traffic signal. I hated myself for even imagining them together, for even thinking something might be going on. You’re an idiot. If you don’t start paying attention here and concentrate on driving, they‘re going to be scraping you off the pavement.
I was about half way to work when I realized I’d forgotten the sales summary I’d been working on the night before. Hanging a U-turn at the intersection, I headed back to the boat to pick it up. If you’d pulled your head out of your ass, you wouldn’t be getting soaked for the second time this morning, I scolded myself, as I ran back down the dock in the rain. I leaped on board, threw open the door to the salon and ran right in on Karyn and Shane making love.
I