Cassie’s smile falters at my totally lame greeting, but she quickly recovers with a “Hi” of her own.
Remembering my manners, I step back, offering her a stool, and when she's seated, I sit again too.
“Would you like something to drink?” I ask, passing her the bar drinks menu.
Without even glancing at the menu, she asks for the same as what I’m having.
“You want a scotch on the rocks?” I ask as I wouldn’t have ever thought she would be a scotch drinker. She was always a vodka cruiser girl when we went to parties back in high school. I guess we've both changed.
Cassie looks me in the eye again. “Sure, and you better make it a double. I think I need it.”
I smile, and some of the earlier tension eases from my body. “What the lady wants, the lady gets.”
She shoots me an icy glare. “Really! I don’t remember that being the case eight years ago.”
Ouch! That blow landed. I place our order for two double scotch on the rocks. We both watch the bartender pour our drinks surrounded by a bubble of awkward silence. He places the drinks on coasters in front of us. Cassie picks up her drink and takes a generous sip. And I do the same.
When she has drunk a decent measure of her scotch, she puts it down and turns to me, saying, “So here we are at a swanky bar in Manhattan. We’re a long way from Daytona now.”
I guess it’s an opening of sorts, so I pick up the conversation thread. “So true. We’ve come a long way since we left high school. It feels like a lifetime ago, but today with you, it feels like it was only yesterday.”
Staring me straight in the eyes, she fiercely responds, “No, you don’t get to say that to me. This is nothing like it was back then. I’m a different person now. I’m not a stupid, naïve schoolgirl anymore, willing to believe everything you say. I don’t even know who you are anymore, and I sure as hell don’t trust you. You're a stranger to me.”
Her words cut me deep, striking at my heart. But I needed to hear them as much as she needed to say them.
“I know I fucked up our plans. I know I hurt you and it was the last thing I wanted to do.” I take a deep breath before continuing in a low voice, “Cassie I’m glad you came tonight. I was worried you wouldn’t. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for the hurt I caused you and… I’m grateful you have given me a chance to explain why I did the things I did. Why I chose to end us. I don’t want to make excuses. I’d just like a chance to tell you some things I should have told you back then.”
“Okay,” she says cautiously as she turns her head away from me, dropping her eyes to gaze down intently into her scotch.
“Okay. I’ll start by saying I was a fucked-up teenager, sorry I mean screwed-up teenager. When I met you in high school, my dad had died from cancer only six months before, as you know. What I didn’t tell you back then was how slow and painful his death was. I guess I didn’t tell you much about my dad at all.”
Taking another sip of scotch-infused courage, I continue, “He was in the Rangers Regiment, so a goddam hero to me and many others. He was so physically strong. I couldn’t imagine anything ever touching him so watching him shrink and fade day by day, screaming in pain at night, was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. After he had gone, Mom and I couldn’t stay in the same house anymore. Which is why we moved not only to another house but to Florida, an entirely new state.”
Cassie continues to stare down into her drink, avoiding eye contact as I continue, “I should have told you this when we were dating. It probably wouldn’t have been such a shock then when I decided to follow in my dad’s footsteps and join the Army to become a Ranger.”
Cassie reaches out to cover my right hand with hers. “I’m sorry about your dad. I wish you had shared this with me back then. Maybe I could have helped you to deal with it.” Then seeming to realize she's still touching my hand she quickly withdraws hers.
Cassie still has the same generous heart she had back then. I hurt her so badly, kept things from her, and yet she still finds it in her heart to offer me comfort.
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “I needed to be a Ranger. For my dad. I wanted to be a son he would have been proud of.”
She says softly, “I’m sure he would have been proud of you even if you hadn’t been a Ranger.”
“Yeah, I know that now, but I didn’t get it back then. Therapy has helped me to deal with my emotional baggage following the death of my dad and I now recognize my mistake in not talking to you about this at the time." I take another fortifying gulp from my scotch.
Before I say any more, Cassie sits up straighter and says, “So I see why you decided college wasn’t for you and instead wanted to join the Rangers but what I don’t get is why it meant our relationship had to end. Your mom and dad stayed together when he was in the Rangers. I don’t see why you thought we couldn’t.”
Her question is simple and delivered with a cold clear voice. I know it shook Cassie when I told her I was joining the Army, but she accepted my decision, even supported me. And instead of appreciating her loyalty, I gave up on us. Maybe I’m fooling myself if I think I can make it up to her.
I try to explain what can’t be fully explained. “I thought we would stay together. I truly did think we would survive the time apart at the beginning.”
She turns watery blue eyes toward me. “What made you change your mind and send me a breakup letter? It was such a heartless thing to do… I thought I was everything you needed, but then we were broken.”
I look away briefly, as I can’t bear to see the unshed tears, sadness, and hurt reflected in her beautiful eyes. But soon I'm turning back and focusing on those same eyes, as I say quietly the words I should have said years ago.
“I couldn’t be everything you deserved. Being in Afghanistan made the distance between us harder. There was a lot to do but also a lot of time to get stuck in my own head thinking about us, allowing the tiny cracks in our relationship to become huge chasms. Our lives felt so different, disconnected. Then the day I wrote the letter, a friend of mine was blown up, killed. I had sat with him the night before, listening to him talk over dinner about his wife and their plans for a family. Cassie, I didn’t want you to ever get a knock on your door, saying I wasn’t coming home. I couldn’t control the level of danger, so I did the one thing I could control. I broke us up.”
A single tear trails down her cheek, and I need to touch her. I can’t hold back my desire for connection any longer.
