Adam and I started dating right after his first deployment, when I didn’t know anything about the military. He was on leave and I was unemployed and we started talking, and over a few bottles of wine, discovered that it was too much fun to stop.
Adam is the strong one. Although he says that I am strong, I tend to think that I just know how to “hang in there.” What else can I do? When he left after that first month, for training, I quickly followed him for many extended visits. He would wake up before 5 am to start PT, and I would be left with all the pillows for an hour, until he returned for a quick nap before going back to the base. He would pull me close and fall asleep quickly and deeply.
I loved his off-post housing there, a sunny new adobe style with high ceilings and fresh carpets. While he was gone I watched the morning shows before running errands or cleaning the house. He came back for lunch once and found me on my knees in the kitchen with a brush, trying to remove the dirt that had been ground in by so many pairs of muddy boots tracking in and out of this temporary house. I guess I got carried away with my enthusiasm for this domestic and simple life. He brought me home flowers that night, and that vinyl tile kept its shine for the rest of his stay.
After training he moved to a new city for work, being on inactive status again. Again, I followed for long visits. This time, he was living in an apartment building in a remote corner of town. The apartment was painted mustard yellow and dark olive green, and it was gloomy from being below ground level. The windows were all on one wall, and were directly facing the sidewalk outside. There were only two options regarding the windows: close the shades and live in a dungeon, or open them and become an exhibit at the zoo. The building did not allow dogs, and having to carry a suspicious 25 pound bundle of laundry in and out of the place twice a day was just the last straw.
I was determined that I would stay near him. He was skeptical of moving in together after only 9 months. Some people are cautious about love, I guess. Or money, maybe, since I was still having trouble finding work after a year. I took a room from a woman I found on Craigslist, near where I wanted to live with Adam. Adam decided to buy an apartment in the pretty, old little neighborhood. After three months, my landlady’s mild case of the crazies developed into a full blown wild-eyed lunacy. Adam relented and took me in, dog, unpaid internship, and all.
The whole year, we were waiting for the deployment. We went for hikes, bike rides, we ate in restaurants, we snuggled and watched movies. But the deployment was like a storm in the distance, and the worst part was not knowing when it would arrive. Will he deploy in May? No, maybe spring of next year. September. December. Two years from now, maybe. In March we went to the Caribbean on donated frequent flier miles, a pre-deployment present from my parents. In September, with orders finally in hand, my sister joked that we had already used up our parental generosity, and didn’t get a do-over.
As we counted down the days in November, Adam was a distracted blur of activity. I helped where I could, but when he explained why the clothing he packed had to be cotton, wool, or fire-resistant, I cried. Girlfriends shouldn’t have to think about the knives that are used to cut seatbelts. But he was happy to go, and I was happy that we were finally getting it over with. On the last day I drove him to the airport, dog in the back seat. We stopped at Chili’s for dinner. Out of all the mid-price chain restaurants you find near an airport, he knows I like Chili’s the best (after Texas Roadhouse, but those are rare). That’s Adam though. He’s about to leave the country, go off to fight a war, and here we are at my favorite restaurant.
With Adam gone, it’s quiet and lonely. Without him around, I don’t clean the house very much. December was easy, with people swirling around, two sets of holidays to celebrate, family to visit. January was hard; cold and snowy, and long. Adam is busy over there, and he doesn’t always have time or the ability to write long letters or even short ones. Phone calls are few, but when he does call, he always tries to make me laugh. February is the shortest month. Soon it will start to get warm again. For now, the dog snuggles with me on the couch.
I’ve found that being just a little bit selfish helps. I don’t want to carry the weight of my imagination about what he’s going through. Thinking about him being tired, uncomfortable, worried, or in danger, it doesn’t help anything. I’m helping him by taking care of myself, so he doesn’t have to worry about me. I take myself out to restaurants, movies, and soon, when it warms up, I will take the dog out for hikes. We’re waiting for Adam to come home, but we’re hanging in there.
