Veronika

“I have some leftover wiener saftgulasch if you’re hungry.” I set my purse on the side table near the sofa and started into the kitchen. Coming back to my apartment after talking to the doctor and confirming that we were going to be parents in November was surreal. That seemed so far away, and yet so close.
“Not sure what that is, but I’m a guy. I’ll eat anything, and I’m starving.” Gil sat down on the sofa, still looking a little dazed.
“It’s kind of like beef stew,” I said. “It’s delicious.”
“I’m going to get fat if I keep hanging out with you,” Gil said. Not likely. As an athlete he was honed and beautiful. I’d only seen him without clothes on once, but that was enough to seer the image into my brain forever.
“Sympathy weight, they call it,” I told him. The stew was already cooked, so I just needed to warm it on the stove. There was also a bag of bakery rolls on the counter, which I took to the table along with a stick of butter.
When I turned from setting the food on the table, Gil was right behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulled my hair away from my neck, and draped it over one shoulder. “Food smells really good.” He lowered his face to my neck and kissed me there.
I leaned back into him and melted. “You smell really good.”
He kissed my neck one more time, and I turned to wrap my arms around him and pressed my lips to his. This was the first time we’d kissed passionately in a long time, and I quickly got lost in our embrace. Until he backed me against the table, and we almost knocked the food off the plates.
“Let’s eat,” Gil said, barely breaking eye contact. “I’m very, very hungry.”
Food didn’t seem to be the object of his desire, but that’s what I fed him.
For about twenty minutes.
As we stared at each other across the table, we communicated a different desire, hunger for food satiated. Hunger for each other, not even close.
“Veronika,” Gil whispered with a pained expression. “I need to leave now.”
I didn’t answer with words, just shook my head back and forth slowly.
“You’re not making this easy on me.” He groaned and didn’t release my gaze.
“Nothing in life is easy,” I said.
“Tell me to go home,” he said.
“You are home.”
We stared at each other for a long moment.
Not sure if I moved first or if he did, but suddenly we were in each other’s arms and falling onto the sofa, lips pressed together, bodies pressed together, hands everywhere, legs intertwined.
We didn’t have sex. We didn’t even take each other’s clothes off. But we connected in a way I didn’t realize was possible. We kissed for what felt like hours and finally just lay in each other’s arms, breathing peacefully.
Before he fell asleep, Gil whispered, “I think I love you.”
“I think I love you too,” I whispered back, then settled my head onto his chest and let myself drift away.
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“What do you remember about that night, Phil?” Dr. Barr asked.
“I don’t want to talk about this,” Phil grumbled, taking his gaze toward the window, wondering how the sun could still shine even with the sandstorm blowing all around him. The parched air included acrid smoke. The intense heat was as much from the explosion as the baking desert.
“Then why are you here?” The female voice brought him almost back to the present moment, but not completely.
“I’m… compelled…” His voice trailed off, wondering as he did every day why he felt compelled to fight. Freedom. Protecting the innocent. Protecting the free world. It was all so abstract. There was nothing real.
“Why?”
“Why, what?” Phil met the doctor’s gaze again, fully aware of the cheerful office with green plants and clean air.
“Why are you compelled?” She asked.
“Compelled to do what?” Phil asked, confused and hazy.
“You tell me.” The doctor leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Come back when you’re ready to talk.” Dr. Barr stood and strode to her door then held it open for Phil to leave.
“Just like that?” He didn’t move from his chair.
“You’re wasting my time, and yours.”
“The Army pays you an hour whether we talk or not.”
“Screw the Army,” she said. “I’d rather sit here and read a novel than wait for you to get your head out of your rear end and start talking.”
“What novel are you reading?” Phil asked, more interested in thinking about superficial things like books and pretty green plants and the way Dr. Barr’s formerly blonde hair was now streaked with silver threads. Her polyester slacks and comfortable shoes paired well with the tan blouse that she’d borrowed from the seventies.
“If I told you War and Peace, would you believe me?” She had the tiniest hint of a grin at the corner of her mouth.
“No.” He fought the same grin.
“Fifty Shades of Grey?” She let the door close softly on its own.
“I wouldn’t believe that either.”
“The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo?” Her tiny smile had grown along with Phil’s answering grin.
“Now that I can see you reading,” he said, nodding his head with a knowing smirk.
“What are you reading these days, Phil?” Dr. Barr said the words in a conversational tone with a hint of pointedness.
“Text messages from my girlfriend,” he answered honestly, his smile faltering.
“What message is she trying to send you?” Instead of returning to her chair, Dr. Barr leaned against her desk, not quite towering over him, but close.
“That’s a loaded question.”
“With a simple answer…” She waited for him to take the bait.
“That she loves me no matter what.” His answering whisper hid barely restrained emotion.
“Scars and all?” she asked.
“Inside and out,” he agreed.
“So, what’s your next step?”
“Guess I’m gonna have to tell you everything that happened that night.” Phil looked out the window again but this time he wasn’t triggered by the streaming sunshine.
He was able to stay in the present moment as he described the way the air tasted, how his ears rang for days, how his skin seemed coated with soot all the way down into the follicles of hair in his pores. The searing heat of his melting skin.
By the time Phil was finished talking, he was rolled into a ball at the corner of Dr. Barr’s sofa, and she had cancelled her next appointment.

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