. ancient history

[samira deol]

When emergencies happened in the hospital, Samira's mind would immediately shift into instincts. Initial assessments, severity of injuries, the order of the ambulances rolling in. Medical school had been a crash course in trauma and how to handle it. Critical thinking and basic triages and OR rooms prepped at a moment's notice. She knew physical trauma - had seen far worse than most humans would hopefully in their lifetime. It was the mental anguished that hurt her in silence. Even after all this time and distance and years, she could read Aaron well enough. Cagey, cautious, here eyes drifting down to his palms to see if his hands were clenching and releasing. Watching for her nervous flick of his eyes, the unconscious sneer on his lip. When they were younger she'd predict what he did before it even happened, touch clamping down on his wrist before he could throw a first punch. Now she knew his instincts were heightened, too. His skills honed, his emotions drawn down even further. Even then she could hear the truth ache through his voice when he voiced his anger, venom hanging off the words. His job had been to hurt, for years. Hers had been to heal. It was strange to be standing in his shoes. "Just because you have it doesn't mean they need it,” Samira argues, shifting to the side as he spun so she had view of both him and the venue around her. Eyes fixed pointedly over his shoulder as she organized her thoughts, the conversation she'd tried to play over and over in her head for this exact moment. She'd always been prepared, she knew pain, she could do this. Even the blue fury laser set on her was expected when she finally trailed back to him, trying to push past the hurt as her words came quickly. "I just said I was about to,” she clarifies lowly. "And I didn't intend for it to be...well, how it happened.” The memory alone makes her want to cringe but she isn't the one who was hurt by it, shifting to mimic him along the balcony. Choosing where she went next, what all needed stitching up this time. "I didn't want it to affect your reacclimatization process. I wanted to be able to be support if you needed it, for you to settle back in, and I know that I wouldn't have been an option if I told you.” It's the truth, part of the answer, trying to comfort herself with that fact alone as she took another sip of her drink. But it's not fair and she knows that, huffing out a breath as she powered through. "We've been together a long time, it was a logical next step. But you also...have always looked at the men I've seen like a write off. Like if you...I do not know, weaseled out their insecurities it would drive them away faster. You gave Ravi the same one just now and we've been together for years.” And you and I have been distant for years hangs unspoken between them, Samira knowing that he's felt it over time. That she had too, forging forward the only mechanism she could employ at times to self soothe. It hurt to feel so far away from him, even as they stood next to one another. "What were you going to say,” she tests, voice void of emotion to mask the curiosity, the fear, that stirred with the question. "Before they came over. What were you going to say when you called me Sam?”

[aaron eklund]

SUMMER 2022 There’s a catch to their intimacy. In knowing his history, being so close to his pain, she wasn’t guaranteed safety from the aftermath of it all. Befriending the fire to avoid the burn, warm enough to still feel the flames lick. There were parts of himself that he tried to shed with Deols, as if reality was suspended inside the walls of their home. He observed, he learned, he adapted; he wanted to be more like them than his own blood, a sponge to their virtues and rules. He knew few things from his upbringing: accusations, insults, open palms or closed fists. With the Deols it was discussion, kindness, respect. Two ways of being in a constant internal clash: the inherent, automatic nature against the thoughtful, practiced one. Sami never caught the brunt of it, his worst fear becoming like his father. Reacclimatization process makes his skin crawl, as if he’d returned from a prison sentence. To Aaron’s ears, he’s been made a fool since the engagement. His mind searches back to January, the last few months rendered a blur few others could understand. That would have been weeks before Luther’s death, when the man was incoherent over the phone, rambling with conspiracy theories, on and off suspension from the force. Aaron remembers leaving her the voicemail from the hospital, then realizes her company that same day—her soothing touch and lingering hugs—was already tainted with her secret. He wondered what she did then, if she left the ring at home or spun the diamond toward her palm when he was around. Before that, he had only been back in the States for a few months. Homebound after a major military withdrawal from a country they had no business being in, billions of dollars wasted—but hey, more of Them dead than Us. An emotional airport reunion, all his worldly possessions bulging from a duffel bag. Still waking up ready for war in the place he loved most, new habits stark against the backdrop of his old bedroom. Removed from barracks yet still expecting orders, meetings, PT, drills; nerves waiting to be called back to duty at any moment, primed to leave again. From Sami he hears a lot of words but little meaning, not sure if he believes it. “Take off the kid gloves, Samira. I’m not a scared little boy anymore,” he bit back, a huff of smoke leaving him in frustration. So measured with her words and tone, walking on the same eggshells he grew up with. “You don’t have to protect me or my feelings.” Years of their distance and slow disentanglement had sourced the problem back to himself, a void left in his life from where she was extricated, attempting therapy and introspection to fill it. Now he was looking down the barrel of a future where they were nothing to each other, mere strangers with a past being buried by the grains of more time, an hourglass that couldn’t be inverted. Logical next step. His brow dips at this, then he thinks back to Ravi. It’s so clinical when she describes their engagement, like moving pieces across a chessboard; checking off boxes drawn in someone else’s ink, no mention of love or excitement, nothing reaching her voice or features. Were her dampened reactions solely for his sake or was that the more convenient truth? Aaron knew what she was saying to be true, his precarious history with her romantic interests. The longer Ravi stuck around—holiday after holiday, announcement after announcement—the clearer the writing on the wall became. What were you going to say? “It doesn’t matter,” he reflexed to answer, turning toward the skyline. Over the years he had seen several skylines—different countries, states, bases—but he still liked this one most, bearing some semblance of home. Just like the woman behind him. But it does matter. He wants to share the pain, buck off the weight of eight long years. Cigarette ember dying where it had been sucked down to a stub, ground out to its demise before he turned to her. She wanted to know, and this might be the last chance before I Do’s. “I was going to tell you that I’m still in love with you. Been in love with you since I was fourteen years old. I never stopped,” he began, searching for her eyes. The backdrop of their high school reunion wasn’t the cause, but it had become the peak. “I still think about you all the time. The best and the worst times, I always thought of you.” Often she was the cause of the former, witness to the latter. She was on his mind when he thought he would die, and equally, when he was most excited to be alive. “I am sorry about the way I left, but I’m not sorry for enlisting. You and I both know I wasn’t going anywhere back then, I needed to be better. I wanted to be able to offer you something.” His throat bobs with a hard swallow, feeling the tension leave his body, because his body knew it was never in danger near her. “I hoped we could try again when I got back. I’m workin on righting my wrongs and fixing a bad foundation,” he tried, tugging helplessly at his tie. “I thought it was always going to be us, Sami. It’s always been you for me, anyway,” he said with a smile of memory. “But I can sit back. I know how to do that, I can handle some suffering. I’d rather do that than lose you.”

[samira deol]

Be careful what you wish for. The age old adage withstanding the test of time as they hovered around one another. She knew she'd be safe at any distance, time a noncontributing factor to how they functioned. Falling into step in their youth and never fully turning back, even with the ebbs and flows of their futures. Mixing, parallel, then jutting off in different directions...foreign countries and latin terminology flooding the gaps. Phone lines had never felt so static, in those moments. Silence had never felt so unforgiving. And at one point, when they'd been quiet so long she dropped the receiver to her chest, eyes tracing the California skylines she'd known almost her entire life, she'd promised herself to try to stay present. That she could ask for forgiveness, not permission, when he returned home. And now he had. A gentle breeze rolls across the rooftop, Samira immune to its chill because she felt so caught out already. Unprepared for the harsh of his voice, yet steady enough to not flinch in its severity. He'd defend their family until the last breath he took, that truth as core to her as the values she'd dutifully followed in her own life. Hesitating because she was dancing around her own truth now, hand coming up to push through her hair. He wasn't a a patient, he wasn't there to be stitched up or soothed. No. He was there to fight. For her. She turns, resting her hip on the ledge they were teetering by as he tries to blow it off. Watching, waiting, as his expression set and she braced herself for an inevitable. This was what she'd been trying to protect. His feelings, the stirring undercurrent that almost bowls her over when their eyes come back together. It's visceral, the strum of her heart surging like a lightning shock as the words pour out of him. Wondering if war did this to people; if everything felt like a last chance when it truly could be. Trying to draw from his pain, trying to shoulder any of if that she could, trying to nurture the broken boy who'd turned up on their doorstep, now the heartbroken man who stood before her. Gently, her hand hovers over the one he still has tugged to his chest, slowly drawing it away until it hung, intertwined, between them. Sometimes touch had to be enough. "This was why,” she responds simply, the words low between them. "Because hurting you is always the last thing I want to do, but it's...” her eyes drift away, struggling to get the words to come through. "It's too late for us.” The engagement ring a glaring factor between them, parsing back through his confession to try to gather what else she can say until her mind shuts down, choosing heart over head. "You know I'll always love you, that you'll always be a part of me and our family. But I couldn't...we didn't work. I'm happy you don't regret going. Even if it felt like a betrayal at the time I...” a small smile drifts to her lips, realizing something. "You made the choice on your own. You were able to choose something for your own life.” Then it falters, brows tugging together as she looked to him again. "But you didn't need to change anything for me. I liked you as you were...you didn't need to offer me anything more.” Gaze slipping down to their tangled hands, gently pulling hers away as the catharsis set in. "I'm sorry,” she finally whispers. For what she isn't sure - everything, nothing, for what they were or couldn't be? It just feels right, much like her next words, soft yet with conviction. "I don't want to lose you, either.”

[aaron eklund]

SUMMER 2022 They had tried, on and off, after he left. But the distance was too much, the phone calls never long enough. Thirty days of leave per year usually split between summer and winter, crashlanding with the Deols and cursing a looming deadline to return. Eventually deployments took him away, making him miss birthdays, holidays, graduations, “souvenirs” from abroad only serving to remind him of his absenteeism. Homebound for the very first time, he was dismayed to hear Sami mention a new romantic interest. Their reunion was brief and intense, heightened by months apart and a return date always too soon, making up for lost time. But a swift exit would happen again and again, each time chipping away at her more and more until they realized this was a desperate grab at what they could no longer have. Last time they’d collided was in 2018—just before Ravi for her, Iraq for him. She wanted to give Ravi a fighting chance, see what happened when she fully committed to someone without Aaron’s interference. She was done waiting for him, he couldn’t ask that of her when there was no guarantee of a next day, just like growing up. Same trauma, different backdrop. There was nothing he could do from seven thousand miles away, hearing updates through Ish, ending every phone call with an I Love You just in case it was their last exchange. Ravi persisted, his name floating into their parents’ voices, becoming a presence at holidays. Aaron played nice, silent in his resentment, counting down until his discharge as if an expiration date to their love. "It's too late for us.” Eight years in the making finally said out loud, made evident each year, worse, slowly stepping toward finality. It meant: stop waiting, stop hoping. Volunteering to suffer in place of losing her, quitting struggling in the quicksand they’d sunk into over the years. Her hand finds his, but it’s not in the way he had envisioned. The warmth of her touch overrides the chill of the breeze, feeling like a return to home in her fingers, an instant tranquilizer to the panic and dread that should be filling his bloodstream. He listens to her, hanging on every word like it were their last, oblivious to the reunion inside and the potential for her fiancé to see them like this. She was breaking his heart and he needed to hear it, committing this moment to a brutally vivid memory. "You were able to choose something for your own life.” Aaron had made the choice but had not foreseen the consequences. Blinded by the hope that his noble intentions would shine through and they’d be delivered to a better ending, preferring the naïve teenaged brain to the one since made cynical and stolid. She was being grateful, kind, maybe even more than he deserved after such an untimely confession. He had to be honest, gradually learning to honor his needs—and cope with them going unmet. You didn’t need to change, yet she chose someone who wasn’t like him at all. He bites his tongue, eyes falling away with a fateful nod, hands returning to his pockets once she let him go, physically and emotionally. He already misses her touch, a heavy realization that it might be the last time they are this close, this alone, this raw. Everything would be changing after today, it was the only thing he could know for certain. Her apology sounds foreign, far away; he must resist the urge to reach out, isn’t sure she would be able to return it. “You won’t lose me. Ever,” he says, shaking his head that she could ever conjure the thought. Never in disagreement or heartbreak or distance, only death. In his memory she and the Deols were enshrined, a sacred part of his life that altered him for the better, a rare bright spot in his history. He couldn’t fathom time without them, even if roles shifted and connections weakened. “I’ll always be here for you. If you’re happy then I’m ok.” His eyes stray to their reflection, focusing enough to catch sight of her brother inside, Ravi tactfully turned away from the balcony. “Ish just gave me a signal. Maybe you should get back in there, go introduce people to your fiancé,” Aaron said, practicing the word that was cleaving their relationship.

[samira deol]

It was time to look forward. For both of them, unsure if it's painful for her because she never thought she'd have to say it out loud, or because it's going to hurt him in the process. When she'd made her choice she'd hoped he would do the same - that he'd find someone, that he'd fall into something that grew over time and cautious learnings. But she knows now that it's not the case - it's always been you, for me. Maybe it's painful because he didn't and she had. Her engagement ring grows heavier the longer they have to acknowledge it, almost wishing she had her own pocket when his hands slide into his trousers. Instead she takes the moment of quiet to study him. To clock the ways he'd grown while he was away from her, unable to be expressed through low quality video cameras and strict time limits. Stature finally matching his height, hair grown out because it could be, features still managing to be vulnerable even with everything he'd seen. She could still read him like a book, right now. Could watch the resignation set in, could watch time shift in his piercing eyes. Recalibrating what this meant, Samira's breath shallow as the silence grew and grew and grew. She always knew to wait for him anyway. Unaware her heart was racing until it slowed at his promise, the raw honesty he offered her. Never one to go back on his word, now her turn to nod. "You won't lose me, either,” she echoes. They were too tangled for the confession to completely derail them, a concept likely few would be able to fathom had they overheard what transpired. Offering the flicker of a smile as he continued, the twig of an olive branch that could only grow. She'd hold on for dear life if it meant that he stayed in her life somehow. Ignoring how much that need seemed to fuel her, caught up in something that felt so precious, so fragile, she almost forgot there were others there. That her future stood inside, brother hovering close with a look that seemed either panicked or intrigued. Maybe a little of both, gaze drifting from Aaron to over her shoulder and back. "Walk with me?” Samira asks, trying to coax along the new normal they'd be wading through. "Stop smoking those carcinogens and come relive the moment someone mistook you as a homecoming float driver and you did it anyway.”

[aaron eklund]

SUMMER 2022 He should be happy for her. He should see Ravi as an equal, not an obstacle. Four years had vetted him, Ravi was a good man. He should give her the same blessing that the rest of her family did, wish her the best in marriage. He should go to their dinner parties and laugh at their stories and, when the time comes, say a nice toast at their wedding. He should bring a date of his own, confirm that he had moved on so that they could all laugh at this one day when they were older, with spouses and children of their own. The ring on her finger is a glaring reminder of his misstep; yes he had made a choice, but it was a bad choice, one that cost them years. Everything. Maybe they would be at this point now, him instead of Ravi. Maybe there were options he should have seen back then, a path to forge forward that didn’t rob them of their youth together. Maybe they could have shown up to the reunion as rare high school sweethearts, listening to the praise and predictions of their former classmates, wrapped themselves in memories of their earliest days before returning home later on in the night, still in love. Could’ve. Should’ve. Would’ve. Maybe. For now, all he can do is move forward. Somehow, through this reunion, alongside the very person letting him go. The world moves on as he wavers on the balcony, watching her reflection flatten across the windows toward the door, Samira inviting him back inside. He studied her for a moment, admiring the way she still soothed him—even if it had to hurt first. “Is that an order?” he smiled weakly before waving it off, willing an easy shrug. It isn't; it's a friendly suggestion, a gentle wish, an olive branch. There was no way out but through it, making good of his word, bracing for the pain. “Sure, let’s go see if I can still make prom king.” He pockets the second cigarette that had been queued behind his ear, smoothing his hair and assessing the state of the room they returned to. Nothing had changed inside, yet everything had shifted between them, privately, and no one else could ever know the magnitude. While Ravi conferred with Samira, Ish approached Aaron, curious but cautious still. Aaron invited him in, softening with guilt about his harsh words before. Just like Ish was immune to his anger, Aaron could never hold a grudge against his best friend. After all, he had just been protecting the girl they both loved. “Everything ok...?” Ish murmured deftly, looking his friend up and down. “Yeah. We had a good talk,” Aaron sighed fixing his collar. “Been a long time coming.” “You should stay, hang out,” Ish prompted, to which Aaron nodded tentatively. “Please don’t leave me to third-wheel it.” “How could I resist that face?” he agreed, clapping him on the shoulder, fingers pulsing with an apology that needn’t be spoken between friends. “I believe I owe you a drink. And I could use about ten.” “Hell yeah,” Ish exclaimed, pumping his arm. “The boys are back!”