Uniformed Love Triangle

Chapter 1: Grimness-2

“My life isn’t particularly special. I don’t have any cool hobbies or interests, and I never cared to do anything that wouldn’t benefit me in some way, mostly financially.”

“Like killing people?” he knew that she did not mean to offend him, and seeing as she was already rather drunk, he tried not to receive her comment as an offense one.

“Yeah, something like that,” he replied, coolly.

“Well,” she put her glass down on the table, “I don’t think you’re overly comfortable with that, so let’s find you a new job,” she took his glass and put it on the coffee table next to hers. “I’ve always had a thing for men in uniform, which is what I was referring to, if you hadn’t caught on to that just yet.”

And so, he let the current carry him. She fell into his arms straddling him, and began to make out with him, which soon led them into the bedroom. He was absorbing the softness of her skin and the frailness of her slender body—something completely opposite of his normal self—and indulging in the sweet sounds of her moans and sighs of pleasure.

It was evident to him that she had not been idle in her seemingly uninteresting life, as she was very versatile in bed. This couldn’t possibly be a bad thing, could it? Most likely, she wanted an adventure, and he never intended to bond with anyone. Relieving himself of s****l tensions was something that could only bring him good he figured, as he was lying in bed next to her sleeping form, after they had made love fervently for about the seventh time.

And that was how they ended up spending the majority of their week. During that time, he had learned that Ashley loved having s*x in various places, so they did it everywhere they could and thought would be fun. They did not talk much, and Devon decided that he preferred it that way. Sometimes they would go horseback riding together, and that part in itself felt pleasant—he was in the company of someone who did not care much about him as a person and did not care about his childhood, his background, or other stories that interested others upon introduction. She did not feign that she wanted to get to know him better, nor did he her. But she was a presence—a presence of another human being—by no means constant. Riding horses in silence like this felt enjoyable. Ashley was giving him as much of herself as she could, and he was doing the same thing with her. They gave each other nothing and promised each other nothing, opting rather to keep their relationship on friendly terms, and only relieving one another’s s****l tensions as often as they both desired to do so.

There were only two and a half weeks left until Devon’s return to Iraq. The very fact felt devastating and defeating, and yet at the same time, befitting of him. There he would be useful. There he could be what he had made himself to be, led by his boyish dreams, and not thinking about the consequences of his choices—and ultimately, disappointing himself. His parents were proud of him for doing what he was doing for his country, but he felt like he never did anything for anyone—let alone himself. And what was worse, he did not believe that he could change, or rather, he thought it was much too late to do so.

One morning, at the beginning of his second week at the countryside, Ashley told him that from then onward she was planning to invite her friends from the city to have fun and stay with her for a while, and that she would very much like to introduce him to them, to which he had no objection, especially since he knew that would be leaving soon anyway.

“But there is one person in particular I’d like you to meet. It’s that neighbor girl I told you about when we first met. Her name is Jade,” Ashley mused with a hint of excitement in her voice.

“Sure thing,” he said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. “I’d be happy to meet her.” His voice was monotone.

1. Jade

While Devon was not Jade’s opposite in a true sense of the word, he was also not exactly someone with whom she could converse in a way she that was used to about the topics she usually enjoyed discussing. They were at first, sitting awkwardly in the living room, while Ashley went into the kitchen to fetch them some wine glasses. What could she ask him? How good was Ashley in bed? How come that he too, had fallen under her spell? Because there was nothing remarkable about that. He was neither the first nor would he be the last to warm her sheets, and she always loved to take on new challenges. Ashely was simply like that, Jade had long known and learned to accept it over the years. Devon had been Ashley’s latest conquest, a soldier from Iraq screaming PTSD. She was not certain in what way that would be fun for Ashley, but knowing her there could always be a lot of surprises in store for them both.

The atmosphere in the room was becoming more uncomfortable with every second that passed, and silence eventually fell heavily upon the two of them. Though it might have seemed like an eternity, the truth was that Ashley had gone to the kitchen barely more than a minute ago. Jade knew exactly what Ashley was up to—she had wanted to give her time to assess her newest boyfriend, and later when he was out of the room, briefly recount her opinion. Nothing out of the ordinary; it was all part of a well-practiced routine.

Devon looked plain in his washed-out jeans and a white T-shirt, though he had a well-sculpted body that could be attributed to his years of training in the military. His eyes were something that appalled her most—gray and empty, as if belonging to a dead person, or a person without personality. To have such an insight into one’s soul, what she presumed she was looking at when they’d introduced themselves to each other was something new to her, and something she had never believed could happen when looking into someone’s eyes.

Jade nervously shifted in her seat across from him, reluctant to start a conversation, but nevertheless feeling pressured to do so.

“So, Devon,” she began in, what she felt was a warm and friendly tone, “Did you learn any Arabic while you were in Iraq?” she heard herself asking, and immediately regretted her decision. She was asking a person who probably never wanted to talk about something like that. He had not been there on a vacation or anything similar! She reprimanded herself silently, feeling anxiety and uneasiness twisting her intestines.

“Actually,” he cleared his throat, turning more toward her, “I have, but not much.”

“Oh,” she commented, not expecting to have gotten an actual response. “How interesting.”

He smiled at her before replying.

“You don’t need to be nervous; there’s nothing wrong in you asking me that question.”

She straightened her back in response, then slouched again. Her throat was closed, and she felt that she could either burst out laughing, or say something stupid and unreasonable.

“I just found it distasteful to ask something like that. You were constantly in the fray, and here I am asking you questions as if you were a tourist or something. It’s not like you were there on a business trip, either,” she explained herself in the end, hoping that her explanation was coherent enough.

What he did next utterly surprised her: he let out a hearty, resonant laugh.

“As a matter of fact, you could say I was on a business trip, if you know what I mean,” he stated heartily.

She shook her head a little, in shock at listening to him crack a joke, and a dark humored one at that, and then she relaxed a bit, joining him in his laughter.

“That was a good one! I never imagined one could joke about such a seemingly serious matter,” she admitted, “but I guess that it stands to reason. Overcoming something so tragic and traumatic by joking about it may actually help,” she allowed herself to remark.

“Certainly,” Devon said. “I had a friend whose grandmother was battling cancer, and they would joke about it very openly, actually. Whenever he would visit her, he would greet her with statements like: ‘Look who’s still alive!’ and both of them found it hilarious,” he offered an example.

Jade nodded her head in understanding. It was actually easier to talk to him than she had first imagined, albeit their topic was a little grim. Still, she found that very refreshing. She felt that she could take the liberty to ask him some word or phrase in Arabic, since she was interested in languages and how they worked. Though she would probably hear something related to war, she still wanted to learn, especially since he appeared not to mind.

“So, can I hear some of that Arabic?” she asked inquisitively.

“Okay,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs and hands in front of his face as if he were praying, deeply thinking about what he could tell her. After a moment, he released a deep sigh, as though he was debating which word or phrase she would most benefit from. “‘iihday,” he said. “That means to calm down.”

“Were you telling that to yourself to calm your nerves? And sorry if I’m prying too much,” she replied.

“No, it’s all good,” he assured her. “To answer your question, no, I wasn’t telling that to myself. I don’t see a purpose in doing so. I was telling that to the women and children who would find themselves in the line of fire and become too panicked to actually move away and get to safety.”

“Oh,” was all Jade could muster. “I feel silly for asking you something like that.”

“Don’t be,” Devon replied and waved his hand. “I gather you’re not easily grossed out by grim stories.”

“Grimness is a part of life, so why should I be?” Jade remarked, telling him her philosophy, and he quietly agreed.

A pleasant silence now settled upon them as they heard the footsteps from the kitchen, and soon Ashley was in the doorway with the glasses she had tasked herself to fetch.

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long,” she stated with a grin of a socialite whose only job was to entertain and smile. It didn’t seem honest in the least. “I had to make a phone call,” she said, and Jade knew this to be one of her most effective and believable excuses. She knew she would have to report to her all what she had seen in Devon as soon as they’d escorted back him to his small house that bordered with Ashley’s property.

They shook their heads almost simultaneously, flashing smiles at her as she set the glasses down on the coffee table. The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur to Jade, who could not wait for the ordeal to be over.

______

As soon as Devon left, a barrage of questions ensued. Ashley wanted to know everything. From the way he looked, to the topics they had discussed during the time she had been in the kitchen. For some reason, Jade considered it to be a private conversation of sorts and felt uncomfortable responding to Ashley’s interrogating questions. Although she was well aware that she had no right to feel that way and that it did not even seem reasonable to feel that way, she couldn’t escape the feeling that she actually did feel them.

In any case, she did not believe that a woman like Ashley, a materialist woman born in the lap of luxury who never had a major problem in her life—she even had loving parents—could understand such intricacies as the horror of women caught in the midst of battle, panicked and disoriented. From what little Devon had told her, Jade was able to visualize and empathize (to an extent, for she had never experienced war) with the people he had briefly told her about. And to make an effort to learn a phrase that could familiarize those unfortunate and himself, if only a little bit, and perhaps save their lives that way, was extraordinary in her opinion. Would Ashley appreciate that kind of thing? Would she even be interested enough to listen?

“I asked him about whether he’d learned any Arabian, since he was there and all,” she decided to share that part with her best friend.

“Oh, cool,” Ashley replied, lying on the couch with her legs leaning against the back of it, examining her fingernails. “And? Anything else?” clearly she was not interested, as Jade had expected.

In the following days she would feel joy whenever she visited Ashley, if Devon was there, and if he wasn’t, then something inside of her would immediately drop into the pit of her stomach like some sort of a cold shower or bitter disappointment.

Ashley had this habit of inviting many people of her status over—usually women, those she considered to be her friends, equally shallow—to spend an evening drinking and talking about men and other things that they deemed important. It was during those nights that Jade and Devon would completely unintentionally sit together and create a microcosm of their own.

Devon would sometimes teach her those several Arabic phrases that he knew, and she would draw parallels with other languages that she knew. They soon started talking about Middle Eastern culture—well, it was she that talked mostly and he would listen to her attentively—and as the days passed, they talked about all other cultures she knew about, and they discussed American culture and society together since both of them had a firsthand experience when it came to that subject. She knew something special was beginning to develop between them, but she refused to define it. She never left things to fate and she liked to plan in advance, but this time she decided on spontaneity, and it felt amazing.