Stay Safe: Chapter Twelve
What follows is a chapter from "Stay Safe: Life After Loss," a book that I wrote following the death of my brother, Robert James Reeves. Rob, only 14-months younger than me and 32 years old at the time of his death, was a Navy SEAL on the prestigious SEAL Team 6. On August 6, 2011, while on a mission in Afghanistan, he and too many of his teammates and other servicemen, lost their lives when their helicopter was shot down by enemy fire. It was the single largest loss of American life in the Afghan war. And because of the high profile nature of this event–being on the cusp of the Bin Laden mission and the number of those lost–my dad and I were part of many, many memorials and events, and the recipients of much outreach, and the point of contact for all those wanting to do something in Rob’s memory. This book chronicles the first month after his death. I am releasing a chapter a day starting August 5th as we mark the fourth anniversary of life without him.
R.
At first I thought maybe it was a fling. Though it didn’t feel as light as the word fling implies. And I really didn't want him to be a fling.Initially, I think we both thought this couldn't be anything more than a fling, but it felt like so much more. I have never been immediately drawn to anyone, but I was immediately drawn to him. Every time I looked at him, he was looking at me and our eyes would unabashedly connect. I found myself constantly seeking him in the crowd. There was an instant connection; one I had only felt one time before and that ended in a Humpty Dumpty of a broken heart. At least I knew going in to this one that the damage could never compare to the last one. That’s what I thought I knew, anyway.As cliched as it sounds, I was at a conference for work. Out of town, away from reality, perhaps a bit lonely and with access cocktails galore. A fine combination for a fling.I had a presenting part in the morning of the first day of the conference. He was sitting on the first row. I noticed him immediately, but worked hard during my presentation to not be distracted. Dark curly hair, hazel eyes, large black hipster glasses. Staring at me. He was gorgeously distracting.He was a panelist in a discussion that afternoon. I was sitting on the front row, directly in front of him. He was not only amazingly good-looking, he was smart. And successful. And still looking right at me. I was almost self-conscious; we seemed in sync. We both pushed our glasses up our noses at the same time, and caught each other doing it and noticing.At dinner that night, he had shed the glasses and looked different, but not different enough for disguise. I saw him at the table across from me. His back was to me, but I recognized him nonetheless. At one point he had walked out of the room and I saw him walking back in out of the corner of my eye. I looked up and I swear he was looking straight at me. I didn't flinch or avoid his gaze, as I normally do when caught staring. I felt the connection in my stomach and I am pretty sure I had to catch my breath.During the after dinner cocktail party, I didn't see him. I thought he had left. Then, he was there. We were at an ocean-front hotel and the breeze was blowing and it was beginning to cool off as it got darker outside. People were all around us, but I hardly noticed.When he finally approached me, it was as if everyone else disappeared and we couldn't run out of things to talk about. Others joined our conversations throughout the evening, but I can’t begin to recall who or what was discussed. My total focus was on R. And eventually, everyone did disappear, to their rooms, to other restaurants, to their own private conversations. And we were left there, with me not wanting the night to end for us. I could sense that he felt the same. Although until this point, we had only discussed work-related topics, it all seemed like a ruse and excuse to remain talking to each other. But it was nice to talk to someone in a similar position at another agency and have him get what I was talking about and provide advice. I have met guys before and been attracted, but knew we had nothing in common and would never be able to carry a conversation after the initial get-to-know you stuff. I just knew that wasn't the case here. And I knew this was going to hurt later.We were both drinking. I was drinking to feel brave and overcome my introverted tendencies and continue the conversation with this mesmerizing man. With inhibitions lowered later in the night and the party over, he suggested a walk to the beach, followed by a nervous "is that weird?" I responded with a nervous "not at all,” because it is exactly what I wanted to do, too.We walked silently to the beach. It was late and the beach was smooth and empty. The wind was blowing and the waves were crashing. It was romantic, in that movie-like way. I felt like I was in a movie.Both still holding wine glasses, we stood side-by-side facing the water and not speaking for a few minutes. I was nervous. The conversation finally turned personal. A little chatter about our families and our histories.And then, seemingly out of the blue, he asked, “Do you have a boyfriend?""No.""How do you not have a boyfriend?"I hesitate, the start to speak, "I..." and pause again. "It's complicated." If I responded with the truth, I knew I would sound self-pitying and the conversation might end with that."Why is it complicated? You are amazing."I shook my head. I don't take compliments well; I never believe them and assume someone wants something from me in return. "Do you have a girlfriend?" He answered with the expected, “Yes." But he sounded despondent about it and a little sad.I guess in an effort to torture myself, I put on my happy face and began asking questions about her as if I actually wanted to know all about their long lasting relationship. He spoke about the timing of their relationship beginning just weeks before Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans and how tragedy brings people together. He talked about their friendship with each other over the years and the comfort in the relationship. Our conversation eventually shifted back to more neutral "get-to-know-you" conversation. But it was all very gentle and soft: we spoke in low tones and of things that might reveal a little of ourselves to the other.Then he asked if he could kiss me. I wanted to kiss him. But, I resisted. At first. I didn't have anything to feel guilty about. He did. I gave him the opportunity to back out. But, once we started kissing, we couldn't stop. I hated myself for giving him the opportunity to cheat on his girlfriend.Knowing we shouldn't, but not strong enough to resist it, we went to my room with the purpose of standing on my balcony to enjoy the ocean view from above. But we both knew that was not really why we were going there.I was self-conscious about my lumpy body. And my tattoos. And all the things that new lovers don't know about each other. Determined to maintain a modicum of dignity, I said a firmish "no" to sex. Rolling around in bed, laughing, kissing, touching. He kept tugging at my panties, both of us so tempted to go further. Legs and arms flailing, tossing and turning, kissing and smiling and occasionally pausing with conversation. It felt good. And comfortable.Eventually we settled, laying next to each other, looking at each other. His eyes were so powerful. I had been drawn to them all day. My wants overtook my rationale mind, as so often the case with my wants, and I went for it, resisting sex no more. I wanted him. And I was glad I did. I wasn't ashamed.And as he was leaving, I groaned, "I like you. And that is not a good thing."It was three in the morning when he left. My adrenaline was still pumping. Couldn't sleep. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, donned my pajamas, and watched TV. Or rather, turned on the TV and thought about him.I awoke with swollen lips and baggy eyes. And nerves about seeing him in the conference. I never know how to act, so I avoid in situations like these.But as we spotted each other across the room throughout the day, the eye contact was just as strong as the day before, but this time it was knowing, with sly smiles shyly shared.The next night, standing on my balcony, he looked at me and said, “You know this can only happen here and is over tonight."Of course. I knew that. It didn't stop my heart from falling and disappointment washing over me. Even now, thinking about it now, my eyes well with tears. My reaction was cool, at least I thought I played it off well. I feigned shock with, “What! You mean this isn't real and we aren't going to ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after?" and ended it with a sly smile on my face. I told myself it was well-played.But with the rules of the game now established, I decided to play that game. No more talk of the girlfriend. Only sex. And lots of it. Laughing and smiling and having fun. Short naps in between rounds. Brief conversation during pauses.In the morning, when we were laying beside each other, stroking each other's hands, he wrote with his finger in the palm of my hand, "I'll miss u." I didn't give any sign of recognition that he had done this, but I definitely noticed. But what did it mean? Nothing. The game rules had been set the bight before. As much as I wanted it to mean, he was going home to his girlfriend. He had already decided. Why make me want him more?By day three, I was exhausted. Physically and emotionally. The roller coaster of hope and excitement of new love mixed with the reality and depression of the it's expiration date had left me emotionally depleted. The seemingly endless sex and resulting lack of sleep had left me happy but sore and weak.I make jokes to protect myself from revealing my emotions. And sometimes those jokes are inappropriate. And sometimes the sentiment I portray with this jokes turns people off. I do it purposely. To guard against future pain and self-loathing for allowing myself to be vulnerable to getting hurt. I followed that same relationship damaging pattern with him on day two. But he remained un-phased by my behavior.We tentatively, and somewhat awkwardly hugged, he passed me a handwritten note and we turned and walked away from each other. And a great sadness passed over me. I knew I would always and forever wonder, “What if?"The note said, "You are an angel. I enjoyed our time together." Totally cheesy. And I totally loved it. I am a stupid girl; I fantasized about quitting my job and moving to his city immediately. I hoped the girlfriend knew how lucky she was to have him. Probably not. Most like her don't. I fully expected them to be married in the next six months. That is what happens to my heart, typically.Or, was I played and this is his conference schtick? I noticed his unwillingness to communicate in any normal way: no email exchange, no phone number exchange, the handwritten note at the end. It was almost practiced. Was I just another notch on his belt? I hope I was not another stupid girl, falling for the wrong guy. Was the connection imagined?The want of the thing is sometimes more than it is worth.It is funny how things don't work out.After meeting R. at a conference and feeling this instant connection and click, I couldn't get him off my mind. I found myself trying to create ways for having conversation with him. I wrote a blog post about one of our work conversations, without mentioning his name. He found it and responded. I talked my agency into sending me to his agency for a learning tour and some research. And this is where that feeling of connection was just confirmed.I wasn't sure what would happen when I saw him again in New Orleans the next month, May. I had protected myself by setting it up as a business trip and staying for the weekend for some activities with friends coming in town.I was incredibly nervous. In a way I didn't understand. I was emotionally trying to prepare myself for disappointment and rejection. But I knew I wasn't being super successful with it.I arrived at his agency and was immediately shuffled into a meeting, with no time to absorb seeing him again. A couple of hours later, he entered the room again. I had to catch my breath as I felt a charge run through me. I don't normally behave this way. Or have reactions like that to people. The connection was strong and scary. When sitting across the table, he asked if I was up for dinner. I said yes. Then he said would just be the two of us, he didn't invite anyone to join and asked if that was ok. I said yes, of course.My meetings then continued. During a break, he took me up to his office space and was telling me about his current projects. In a quick breeze of conversation, he said that he was supposed to work all weekend, but he wasn't going to do that because he would be spending time with me. I was taken aback and was excited at the same time. I wondered what he was thinking and feeling and if his situation had changed. We still didn't know each other well, but I wanted nothing more than to know him as much as possible, immediately.Over dinner that night, I was so nervous I could barely eat (a theme for every time I would be around him in the future). He told me that his girlfriend was out of town that weekend. I was a little crestfallen because it revealed that she was still very much a part of his life. Something I instinctively knew, but still wanted to hear otherwise. The conversation continued on our lives, our work and slowly revealing more about ourselves to each other. The conversation was comfortable and engrossing and leaving me wanting more.He walked me back to my hotel after dinner and asked if he could see my room. I said yes, knowing what that meant. And we started kissing as soon as we shut the door. I had resolved, based on the advice of a friend, to go with the flow of the weekend, to have fun, to not ask or pressure about the girlfriend, and to stay an emotional arm's length away. But started breaking my resolve almost immediately. He stopped kissing me and wanted to talk. He said he had three questions. The first was: can this weekend be a secret? My answer: this weekend can be a secret, but anything beyond this weekend I probably wouldn't be comfortable keeping a secret. His second question: am I going to hurt you? My answer: not this weekend, but anything beyond this weekend would be emotionally involved and might end up hurting me. His third question started with a statement that he hadn't had sex with anyone since me and he wondered if I had. My response: I hadn't, but it would be strange and out of character for me to have slept with anyone. But I wondered aloud how it was possible for him not to have slept with his girlfriend. His response sent tears welling to my eyes: he said he couldn't because he could only think about me. I clearly was not as emotionally detached as I was trying to be. And we connected again and later that night, he dressed and went home to his girlfriend.The next morning, he met me for coffee and we went through the day of meetings without addressing the night before or what was happening between us. Leaving the office, he walked me to my hotel room, where we started for the evening. We ordered room service, ate, drank, talked and wrapped ourselves in each other. He startled me by announcing that he was going home around 10 that night, but I tried not to react and just generally go with it. He left. I washed my face, brushed my teeth and took a muscle relaxer for my back pain, then quickly fell asleep.Sometime between three and four that morning, I awoke with a start. I had heard something that scared me. I wasn't sure what it was, but the television was still on, so I turned it off and turned the light off and rolled over. As soon as I closed my eyes, I heard the light knocking at my door. R. was back. And he was drunk. Funny and sweet drunk. And I welcomed him back into bed, of course. We talked a lot more and slept only a little.The next day, we ventured out for a very late breakfast, or what some might call lunch. And then we decided to go to the swamp. And we got ice cream along the way. Mint chocolate chip. And it was hot, and fun, and different than anything I have done before. Then we were back in the hotel, in each other's arms. In the early part of the evening, he said that he needed to take care of some stuff at home and that I should meet up with my friends. Trying to go with the flow and not take anything too seriously, I agreed and began to get ready for the night out. I invited him to join and said I would check-in everywhere I went since we were not exchanging phone numbers under some unspoken rule. He said ok, but I assumed this was the last I would see of him, still trying to keep my emotions in check.I met my friends and tried to not constantly look towards the door. We were about to leave our second location when I looked up and made eye contact with R. His demeanor was a bit off. It felt like he felt obligated to be there and didn't really want to be part of the group. We were with my friends no more than 10 minutes before we broke off in search of food. The search for food took us to several stops, as it was late and many restaurants are closed. The walk around New Orleans was nice and just being together and talking was nourishment enough.Although late, we went to bed together and woke up together. And it felt good. When we woke and it was time for R. to leave, we didn't make plans to see each other later that day. We just said that we would see each other later. I wasn't concerned about it, although my flight out was late that afternoon. Perhaps I should have been concerned about it given the unspoken rule of no phone contact.I didn't hear from R. the rest of the day. I connected with my visiting friends for lunch and a ride to the airport. The ride to the airport was sad. I cried in the checkout line at the airport. The lump in my throat did not go away for days. I sent a simple email in the car on the way to the airport, stating that I was headed to the airport, that I felt like I was leaving without saying goodbye and that I enjoyed the visit.It took him two days to respond. And there was no explanation for the the absence that day. His response left room for interpretation, but closed with "this is not goodbye."The email started with a couple of probable lies: that he didn't get my email until the day he responded was probably not true and that he wanted to see me again was probably not true. He was keeping his distance by throwing work excuses out for the next several weeks, but that he ended with "this is not goodbye" which was a good sign. In my response, I acknowledged his work, kept it short and let him know that I would be in touch after work settles down. It was not in my instincts to keep this email short and empty of emotion. I was feeling so much after the weekend that I wanted to share. R. emailed a few days later to say he was thinking about me and wondered how I was doing. I responded that I was okay, but had been thinking about him a lot, too, that I was distracted by him but perhaps that was a good thing and that I was very cautious about getting to close and ending up hurt.When R. responded, it was a bit distant and noted that he needed to work things out in his own life to be fair to me and again talked about his upcoming work load and schedule. I sent an email back that made my stomach turn, but knew that it was the right thing to do. It said: "Thanks for recognizing my need for you to be fair to me in this process. I enjoy being with you and would like to be with you again more than anything right now. But life in limbo is complicated. Let's talk only when you have more specific thoughts about us and what's next." That was hard for me to send. And I couldn't stop thinking that I had just cut R. out of my life. Then he sent me flowers that Friday. And four days later he called and asked if he could come visit in Little Rock that coming weekend. My heart leapt with excitement and hope.And with this third encounter, I admitted to myself that I was in love. But I was not ready to admit it to anyone else, including the one that I was in love with. It was too soon and I didn’t want to scare him as much as I was scared. But I definitely love this man. I loved the way he makes me nervous and I loved how I don't want to stop looking in his eyes when he is next to me and I loved that I want to be as close to him as possible when he is around. I was doomed for heartbreak, and I was barely even trying to protect myself from it at this point.R. came to visit me in Little Rock that next weekend. I was nervous to the point of mopping my entire house—something I can honestly say I had never done before. I was worried about making the wrong impression and I wanted everything to be perfect.As I waited for his arrival and wondered how we would spend the afternoon, I decided that I really didn't want us to jump into bed together and not get out until it was time for him to leave the next day. That would be easy to do and it would be fun and it would make me happy. But I wanted this relationship to be much more than that and it was important to me that we continue to talk and get to know each other. Now June, this was, after all, only our third time to be together since we met in mid-April.When he arrived, he commented on my nervousness. I couldn't help it; I was excited to have in my house and a little incredulous. And I was wondering how it would all go and would he finally figure out that I was not all that he has imagined me to be?We decided to start his visit with a driving tour of Little Rock. I am not the best tour guide for the city. Although I love the city, I just don't pay that much attention to all that is going on around me and my nervousness that day didn't help. But R. was gracious and seemed to be impressed with our city of Little Rock, especially with its cleanliness and natural resources.When the tour was over, it was just after five in the evening, so I suggested the wine bar in my neighborhood for a little unwinding and atmosphere before dinner. R. ordered a bottle and we talked. I don't remember what we talked about, but I remember it felt natural, comfortable and just generally good. I left there a little drunk, having not eaten yet that day, being a little nervous still and my alcohol tolerance having diminished in the last several months. But I was happy and having fun. We walked down the street to eat sushi, where the closeness I felt to him continued to grow stronger.After dinner, we drove the short distance home, poured another glass of wine and sat on the couch talking a bit longer before making our way to the bedroom. It feels right when we are together: we stare into each other's eyes as we are making love. I can't look away, and neither can he. I told him that night that everything between us feels so right and fits so perfectly that it scared me. He told me that he was mine. And I believed him. Everything about our time together was intense, but rather than draining me of energy, the intensity gives me energy and hope. It inspired me to think about the adventures in the future rather than the failures of the past. I saw potential in the intensity.The next time we saw each other in July, I felt like we were in a relationship. We were no longer strangers, but still learning about each other and feeling each other out. I was nervous that the mystery of me would wear off on this visit and he would no longer be interested. That plus the fact that he and his girlfriend had officially broken up, no longer giving our encounters a feeling of intrigue, would I completely lose my appeal? These were the things that worried me, especially now that I had let my guard down and allowed myself to give in to the emotions I was feeling towards him. I am officially at risk for heartbreak—my biggest fear. So my butterflies and nervousness had not subsided a bit with each encounter. They only grew worse because I was committing myself a little more with each visit. This was the guy that I want to be around all the time. To talk to about everything in my life. To be my partner in all my decisions. Oh, it was definitely bad. I was going to end up heart-broken. I kept telling myself that as a way to manage my expectations. Hoping that I will keep some sort of emotional distance. A fruitless effort, no doubt.I flew to New Orleans and planned to stay at his house Friday and Sunday night. On Saturday night, we drove to Destin to spend some time on the beach and in the ocean air. And the weekend was again, magical. We were comfortable together on the long car rides to and from Destin. We were comfortable having meals together. And we were comfortable sitting side-by-side on the beach, each reading and relaxed. It was over too soon.Then my brother died. And everything changed.
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