. stop loss

[samira deol]

6.6 Idly, she wondered if they'd both kept this rendezvous from Ish. The steady pillar between them, more looped in to this relationship than the pair were at times, the steady telephone wire stringing them along and, inevitably, back together. She knew she hadn't said anything, one of the rare times she'd had something of her own. Looking to Aaron now, the brazen emotions and flickering moods, she doubted he had either. Water before blood, something that she should be admonished for but instead held tightly to. Because he was family, too. Had been the second he'd been too broken to breathe, her eyes much too young to almost witness the death of someone so close to her. His body too young to have been brought that far. Now her eyes had flickered through search pages late at night, the relief of no new news as instantaneous as the calls that would come like clockwork. "Yes, you're alive,” she braves, as blunt as ever. "And I survived organic chemistry. Neither of those just...magically makes me fiancé-less.” Ever the details person, scrawl unintelligible but mind capable of sifting through the finer intricacies of life and its dominoes. Push one a hair too hard and they'd all go spiraling, Samira's life flashing before her eyes at the checklist. Break up with Ravi, break a lease, fight over the dog, break his heart? She draws her lip into her teeth, unable to confirm the last one as a truth. Feeling it slip back into place when he apologizes, eyes squinting up at both the sun and this peculiar thing that had come out of his mouth. He said sorry now? Not in the way he used to, not sorry I am this burden that fell onto you, but in a way that felt settled. Curiosity flickering in her mind at just how much she didn't know about him suddenly, about the gaps of years that fell between the phone lines Ish tried so desperately to hold up. Catching the youth again in the set of his smile. That she knew well, hers mimicked and warm on her own mouth. "It's very insane...we had big imaginations, us three. But I think you and I always believed just a little bit more. Or just bound everything in contracts and promises.” Reveling in the lightness before their hands pull together. She still knows where to trace for scars, her thumb tucking quietly between his pointer and middle finger to soothe one of her least favorites, made habitual when they held hands. Now drifting in longing and the depths of his eyes, the way her full name fell off his tongue. "And I don't want you to stop, ok? I hear you...about, about the chance we have. But I can't explore it until I end what I have right now, and I haven't yet.”

[aaron eklund]

June 6, 2024 It’s strange, admitting to someone that you’ll never move on. That you’ve refused, that it’s because of them, like they’ve shattered your life so irrevocably you're damaged goods to anyone else. Maybe it’s a little tactless to say out loud when it’s a secret most others would take to the grave. Selfish, especially, that you’re looping someone else in on your misery. For Aaron, it was about finally honoring one of the few truths he knew: he loved her, he needed her. It was refusing to wait any longer to try to be happy, choosing to center himself for once and prioritize his needs, brave enough to ask for what he wanted. Fathers and boot camps and bullets be damned—this was the hardest thing he’d ever done, easily the only thing worth surviving for. It made a dark, turbulent history bearable in his wake; he’d live through it a hundred times if Samira was always at the end, one way or another. If there’s a chance, Aaron will cling to it. There were always two timers in his head, running parallel to one another: when his contract was up, and her major career milestones. Some invisible clock presented itself back then, and they had just reset it, heard the gears wind up, the first few ticks resounding in his ear. But neither can know when that time will be up, what happens when a childish gamble is asked to grow up into a real promise. They know this won’t be easy. Ending a relationship of six years, calling off an engagement, the splitting of the household. There would be justifications, accusations, resentment, pain. Watching Ravi settle into her life now felt much like they had raised a lamb for slaughter; while Aaron always wanted her suitors to leave, he didn’t try outright to be the reason they did. This was not about infidelity and ruin, they had to be patient, thoughtful because it would not be easy. “Okay, okay,” he agrees, breathless, feeling her fingers explore his. Checking her handiwork, the faint lines and gnarled skin telling more stories than his mouth often would. How powerful her own grasp was, hands so steady and kind that they actually healed. Covered in blood in an operating room, then holding up mirrors to smiles and new leases on life of people she helped, patients she fixed. It’s what they had done to each other; he trained her to fix, she trained him to wait. So impossibly close. Staring destiny in the face, the revolving door of their history finally settling into the present, his reflection steady in the depths of her gaze. His hands only freed themselves to drift at a distance, asking silent permission to pull her closer. To get his arms around her in a real embrace, to hold them here, for a little while longer, as they made a difficult choice to chance everything they already had for something they still wanted.

[samira deol]

6.6 This was only going go be an uphill battle. She had done everything by the book her entire life - offered help to those in need, kept out of trouble, excelled in education and the doctoral promise to make this world a better place. The subject of her specific studies the only small place of contention, always looked at funny when she mentioned plastics. To some, it meant money and surface-level, an easy way to the bank in exchange for enhancements that weren't necessary. To her, it veered more toward reconstruction. Helping those to heal, to look differently. Physically, one could see so much so quickly. It affected moods, it changed lives. It saved them. Even with the scars, Aaron seems a little more healed. Wondering if it was this moment of catharsis, of being able to speak his mind unabashed and her to not walk away, or discredit it. Because he just knew, deep down, that she hadn't let go either. He was openly steadfast while she was resolutely reserved, a battle back and forth on who would lean further, who would give in first. They knew now, his confession still weighty on her conscious. Hers pressing even further, breath dragging from her lips. She was the one who'd have to change the most, for this. And they both knew that had never been her strong suit. Unable to hide the betrayal in her voice at their phone calls, the shy sadness that only grew as their distance did. He'd chosen another path that ran away from hers and she refused to stray back then...but now, much more mature and steady, throwing it all away sounded as much of a life line as it did a terrifying prospect. What did she gain from this? What did she lose? The scale would tip one way, down the line. She just wondered which would outweigh the other. Silently, his arms open in permission. Balanced on each side, an easy center for her to step into and breathe for. Her own arms looping around his strong back, holding tight to an anchor that had only dug deeper into the ground. "Been awhile,” she murmurs against his shoulder. A long time since they'd held each other like this, exchanges brief and surface at recent gatherings. Conversations small talk and not much more, Samira's curiosity consuming as she realized she could catch up. That she could ask the questions she'd never been afforded the chance to. Relearn him, not the map of his scars but the expanse of his heart. Shoving down the thready nerves already trying to build, the self doubt that would inevitably creep in later when she returned to the silence of their home. Just existing, breathing in and out, pulling away to motion at the sloped path they'd stepped off of. "Can I get some real life updates now? Not the dinner party ones, I've heard those six times recently and yes, I have counted.”

[aaron eklund]

June 6, 2024 Their early years were founded on secrets. Luther can never find out; please don’t tell your parents; Ish can’t know or only Ish knew. The Deols risking more than Aaron could ever realize back then while caught up in his own adolescent terror: their money, their honor, their safety. It’s why he felt chronically guilty, indebted to them for quite literally saving his life, taking him in when his other options were running away or a broken foster system spitting him out. Showing him glimpses of a world never privy to, offering a contrast to what he knew at home, something better to reach for than what he had. And here she was doing it again, motivating him to be better, breaking a cancerous cycle. Sami had been the first to give him permission, told him once not to hide his pain or his pleasure from her. The twins were the only two people in the world to bear witness to the entire gamut of his history, his moods and emotions. They knew each other so well, had shared a home and a family and countless memories, irrevocably built into the same life that he felt like a third to their duo. Even now, despite trying to stay present, Aaron couldn’t help but remember how this had felt when it first blossomed between them. It felt like they were still sneaking glances and brushing fingers in the house when they were dating but respectfully keeping it under wraps, steady to the rules and values under the Deol roof. She’s in his arms and it’s a return home. The best anchor in the world, what he always wished for in battle, whether it was physical or mental. How she could smother the flames of a fight before it could start, console him after a beating even as the marks set in. “Too long,” he echoes into her hair, but the proximity makes him realize why they avoided this. It was too much, too familiar, a powerful drug that, while healing, ran the risk of becoming addictive. However the distance between them—previously forced, then purposely enforced—had been for their own good. It had damped and numbed and prolonged this fate, not prevented its fruition. Aaron was always struggling against automatic thought of being a burden or undeserving of anything good, bracing for it to be taken away or used against him. He knows the weight of this on her is far more massive than on him, even if he volunteers to take the heat, to be the usual bad guy, to show up for her like a comrade. It will not happen overnight or be instantly gratifying, but he can, again, wait; he already had for so long that sometimes it felt he lived this life for her, that in some divine way he had simply been made for Samira. His hand stays in hers, pulsing gently between them as they ventured down the trail, decade-ghost footprints beneath them. “Some real life updates,” he repeated with amusement, his first instinct to evade, an assumption that nobody actually cared. But he knows she’s not fishing for anything in particular, a genuine curiosity knowing what he had shared lately in front of others. Practiced, vague enough (work’s fine, life’s good) to satisfy the topic then move on to someone else. In the intimidating company of smart, powerful, interesting people happy to talk about themselves, letting him fly under the radar, chiding himself for veering down a different path. “Well, I think you’ll be happiest to learn I’m cutting down on the smoking. Tryin to quit before my birthday,” he started, eyes focused ahead, the most relaxed he had felt lately. “I’m still in therapy. She’s got me on a sleep medication, so I’m in bed more these days,” he remarked, so accustomed to running on four, five hours of broken sleep for so long that seven or eight felt like a new world. “My mom’s doing well. We chat every week, told her I’m gonna go visit soon. Tom’s daughter just had a baby, so I guess I’m a step-uncle now?” he chuckled with a shrug, still feeling like he was too old to have or be a step-anything. “I’m looking into getting my own shop space since the woodworking stuff has been going so well. And I haven’t lost any fingers,” he smiled, wriggling them for show. “I’m good lately. Honest. I’m tryin new things, getting out of my own way. Some days I can’t believe how nice life can be, other days I’m pissed off how long it’s taken. Feels more exciting staying in one place now, at the risk of sounding boring.”

[samira deol]

6.6 It felt like a friendship put on pause, sprung suddenly back into motion. Thawed at the hint of a touch, at the warmth of his arms and the way she'd always quizzically fit perfectly in the crook of his shoulder. Even in youth, even with the awkwardness of growth spurts and the wildness of hormones they'd fit together, whether it be by hand or hip or mouth. Shy at first, then a bit more brash, tumbling quickly into their feelings until they slowly, scornfully, picked their way out of them. Or, she guessed, only she had. Tamped them down to move up and on, now realizing that maybe they'd never left all along. Just settled until reminded, touch woven back together, something serene clicking back into place. With anyone else she'd likely be on the verge of shallow breath, of crazed laughter. Thinking how preposterous, how impossible, but the heart was just as much of a mystery as the brain was. Maybe not physically, or neurologically, but emotions couldn't be measured or collected or studied. The most scientific miracle of all. She knew that if she stared at a machine now, had been hooked up to one, they'd catch the jump in her heartbeat as they held fast and continued. But it wouldn't understand the peace in his eyes, the self conscious shuffle of his feet, the flood of warmth his calm voice invoked. It wouldn't know familiarity, Samira hanging on his every positive word because he deserved to speak them. "Ah, can't wait for you to finally give up the car batteries so soon,” she quips, the chemical make-up rattling through her brain as if second nature. She'd barely had to know it, for medical school, but much like anything having to do with Aaron it remained caught in the web of her brain. One that spiraled here and there, gauzy and strong, eyes darting quietly to his in question. "How does it feel?” Samira pauses then clears her throat, carrying on with it. "Are you excited to be an uncle?” They'd never made it far in the kids conversation, much too young and still children themselves. But now, his history reflected, she was curious where he might stand. Pivoting gracefully into each topic, nodding her head and acknolweding as he spoke, participating and not just commiserating with the conversation. It was important to not talk over him, let him have his time, a smile finally set on her features after every update. It was wild to ever think him fully happy but he seemed it, her grip excitedly squeezing in his. "None of that was boring. In fact, it was kind of everything I would want to hear, you know?” Samira slows her steps, drifting back to the top of the Observatory and the sprawling city below them. "I'm...so happy for you, Aaron. And I do mean that. After everything you deserve to just...understand what boring is. Life being boring is a good thing.” She should know, everything a careful routine in her schedule. Thinking back to what she'd do that evening, knowing that routine would easily slip down the drain the moment she forgot to sleep. "And I'm afraid the updates you get from me at those parties are the gist of what I have going on. So...life being boring may be good, but being routine might be a little less good.”

[aaron eklund]

June 6, 2024 Through her effortless interpretation, Aaron realizes many habits call for a trade. “Gotta give up some things to make space for others,” he said out loud with a nod, a major shift in his aspirations and hopes since his discharge. Trading in motors for wood saws, cigarettes for chewing gum, coffee for tea. What was he trading here—fear for curiosity, regret for possibility? Even the smallest bargains sum up to greater changes, signaling new chapters and intentional growth. Tiny acts to realize that he didn’t have to settle for what he knew, that he could freely explore other ways of being if he was brave enough to try. Even his recovery efforts were with others in mind, especially Sami. “I like it, it keeps me busy. Makes me happy,” Aaron affirmed, as if surprising himself by admitting to as much. Going with the flow, testing out new hobbies and people, keeping the ones that stuck. Tapping into the creative, gentle sides of himself in trying to buck off the rigidity of his service, the gravity of his childhood. It was frustrating, sometimes feeling pointless to believe an art class or a restoration project could fix him, but it was busywork and time spent with his thoughts, freer and more fulfilling than he had ever known. Answering to no one, making choices, setting his own path and still making room for her on it. Normally his mind tried to run away from reality, but here, even talking about himself, Aaron found himself firmly in place. Taking in the sight of her, of their surroundings, gathering his five senses, thrilled by their hands still lingering together. Long after what was necessary, what was appropriate. On the topic of his strange little family expanding, his mouth curves with a small smile, experimenting with the idea. “Feels good I think,” he relented, endeared by her curiosity but oblivious to the deeper implications. They were at the age where friends and peers were getting married, starting families of their own, neither of them spared from the burden of time and pressure of biological clocks. “I didn’t get to know Ashley ‘til later on, but now I have a chance to know this little one from the jump,” he continued, a stepfamily he wouldn’t know until he was eighteen and his mother returned. Anna had found a good man and moved on, with two kids just about his age when she’d left. Not replacements but additions, she had stressed when they all first met. “A boy,” he thought to mention, smiling in remembrance of his newborn nephew, “they named him Hayden.” It’s a stubborn narrative to change, believing that you’re deserving of good things after years of hearing the opposite. Inviting in positivity, identifying healthy people. Samira was right: it was a strange new privilege to be allowed to stand still. What others called boring, Aaron called safe and quiet and daresay earned. “Thank you. That means a lot,” he returned easily, humbled by her wisdom. “I didn’t think about it like that.” And it feels like an enlightenment, something so simple being pointed out by someone who understood him so well that her input meant the world to him. At her updates he is less optimistic, more skeptical. Of course he had heard all the iterations of how busy she was, still trying to parse through the hospital lingo sometimes, as complicated and intense as military speak. But he wasn’t Ravi so he wasn’t privy to the language, a layperson she had to translate for, reminding of their footing in different worlds. “There’s being steady and then there’s being stuck,” he tried to offer neutrally, as if he weren’t advocating for the end of her relationship so they could return to their own. But her life is so routine and clinical that, yes, it checks all the boxes of her parents’ hopes, but sometimes one arrives to the top and realizes the sight didn't match the expectation of the climb. Nothing stayed perfect—minds could change, people shifted even while together. He only desired her happiness, hopeful that he could provide it if Ravi did not. “That’s all? You sure?” he wondered, perhaps too daring in his curiosity.

[samira deol]

6.6 "There's being steady, and then there's being stuck." It rings in her ears, circling her mind as she bites her lip and walks forward. Aaron was steady, now; an anchor in this stormy world, finally catching hold to a bit of life that actually made sense and rewarded him for his existence. Paid him forward for his pain and his suffering, though the debt would always seem tangibly out of reach. This world owed him more for what he'd endured, an argument she could defend to the inch of her life. If that prize also included her he was going to go for it - but in a way that credited her as desirable, not just an equal. Maybe that's the part that swells the most. Because she loves Ravi, she does. But it feels faded to admiration now, aimless pride at his ambition and work ethic and his devotion to the routine they'd work tirelessly to establish. That is what's difficult to explain to Aaron now because defeat to her has never been an option. She's never failed, her course has never had to stray. But others had taken the fall for this to happen, dark eyes gently sweeping his lanky shadow next to hers. The muddled connection of their wrists and fingers that blended into one solitary grip between them. "I guess I'm stuck, then.” It hurts, to say out loud. It hurts more to put her hand up before he rushes to say anything. "Don't...I don't want solutions for that right now, alright?” It was a problem for her to solve on her own, her tangle to weave her way out of and maybe find Aaron's grip waiting on the other side. It took her breath away, how swift the honesty had come. How quickly she'd known being here was right, that this date hadn't meant nothing to her all those years ago and still meant something to her now. Knowing, in the depths of her heart, that he'd be here if she was. They'd wait the world, if they had to. And they might have to, Samira's mind mapping out a timeline she tires of quickly, the glow of the day suddenly replaced by the slicing shadows of night falling, of her looming dismantling of her every day life. Her shoulders rise at a sudden chill, dipping to lean further into his side as they looped back around. "I have to go, soon,” whispered almost unwillingly into his shoulder, heart suddenly of two minds. One at home with his heart, steady and content. The other unspooling, shattering at its seams at what could be ahead. Unbalanced as ever, mind a mess as she looked back at him to try to find something to tether back to. "I...I'm scared, Aaron. We can't go back from this, you know? We...I..” her ever steady words disappear, huffing a laugh as her train of thought slowly dissipates entirely. "You are still the only person I lose my nerve around, you know. My..I have wonderful reviews from prestigious doctors about how steady my hands are and look at me now. Unsteady as a first year.”

[aaron eklund]

June 6, 2024 Aaron couldn’t pretend to know what Samira’s life was like anymore. His understanding slipped as soon as she had left for college, trying uselessly to keep pace with a life that eventually he stopped belonging to. Never jealous or resentful about her path, knowing she would rise to greatness while he seemed to wait for something to happen. That’s where they differed most: she preempted, he reacted. It’s why his first major choice was such a disaster, coerced by Luther’s cruelty during a moment of weakness, giving himself to the military. But Samira’s ambition and determination were so powerful that everyone could only stand aside and watch her go, endowed with her mother’s kindness and her father’s intelligence. Culturally and socially, as the daughter, she shouldered high expectations. Rarely did she fail or falter, always calculating the risks, considering the options, weighing the potential before she committed to something. Those traits had delivered her to a noble profession, a bright career, but could now work against this spark they were trying to encourage into its former fire. She has to go soon. Back to Ravi, back to her home, back to reality. A chance to inventory her life, what she had now versus what could be, which was terrifying when things were objectively good. Compare and contrast all iterations of the past, present, and future, measure the costs of shattering her life and never being able to hold that same picture again, hoping something else was better. She could change her mind. She could confess to Ravi. She could regret showing up today. Was that Aaron’s effect on her all along, having haunted her life for years that even in his return he still brought with him chaos and turbulence so that persistent calm felt boring and unsatisfying? Was his version of steady just scratching at an old itch? His arm loops around her, holding her close as she huddled into his shelter, his thumb running over the ball of her shoulder nearly up to her ears in worry. They will have to part ways and trust that the other will come back. Trying to smother the belief that he didn’t deserve happiness, that lingering instinct to lay himself down on the tracks so no one else had to get hurt. This wasn’t like the other times—she was here, telling him she wanted this too, not just him screaming his confessions into the wind. “I know,” he said quietly, holding her eyes. “I’m scared too.” Although she had so much more to lose at present, he wasn’t without risk himself. His entire youth was banked on this, adult years spent dreaming and forging ahead, improving his life with her in mind. There weren’t any contingency plans—it was Sami or nobody. It reminded him when he realized his teenaged feelings for her, worried about losing her as a friend, and her family as his own, if he was honest about his love and shifted their relationship. It could happen again; if this didn’t work, what would be left of them to salvage? Every word he hangs onto, leaning into their proximity like it could last forever. His hand comes up in offering between them, flat and motionless in display. “Look at mine. Still as a pond around you,” he smiled, features warming with relief. It seemed he was always shaking, be it adrenaline, fear, caffeine, worry, excitement. Vibrating between extremes from one end to the other, for better or for worse. He sandwiched her ringless hand between his, stark in contrast in size and complexion and softness. Both these hands were their respective tools in different ways. “Let me steady you for once, Sami.”

[samira deol]

6.6 In medical school, you learn everything you can do to your body. How to strengthen it, how to weaken it, where the pain points are, where to touch to relieve stress. A map of one's life stretched across skin, marred with scars and beauty marks, unexplained genetic splashes and sharp, inherited eyes. A brain that will never be fully understood, diseases that will never be cured...it's a lessons of extremes and split-second decisions, listening to her friends breathe lives back into humans and, by her own hands, healing wounds and smoothing surfaces that breathe hope back into them, too. It's what she has to rely on now. Hope. Fear. The gut sense of being a doctor, trying to apply it to the farfetched concepts of love. Of safety. Of support. Staring at Aaron's guiding hands that do not waver. He used to flinch so much, when they were younger. Anything loud set him off. Fireworks, a trash can falling over outside, thunder. Curling into his gangly frame as if to remain unnoticed. But now, now he was calm waters. Seemingly settled in his body while hers pulled so tightly wound. Let me settle you, he breathes, a lifeline in her drowning mind. A stillness, a safe haven. Her hand drifts over his, unbound and unthinking. Her body's known all along. "Ok,” she says simply. Unsure of what she means but knowing he'll understand, always the one to unspool her ceaseless brain. Break things down, build them up. An endless cycle she's daring to fall into, shattering what she thought to be peace, realizing that she came up hollow when she reached for that feeling again. As if it had shifted its allegiance, taking up home in the glint in Aaron's warm eyes. Samira squeezes his hand again, another ok, tugging him back to her car because she's afraid she'd drift away otherwise. Still in her head but charting an alternative course, looking up to him again when she could bear it. "Eight,” she decides, leaning against the edge of her Mercedes. "I'm free at eight, every morning but Tuesdays. Call me then?”

[aaron eklund]

June 6, 2024 Everything had been corralled behind floodgates for years, convinced that they were safe so long as a single drop was never allowed to escape. Plug any holes, fill in the cracks, build it higher and reinforce the layers because it was easier than dealing with the rising, stirring waterline behind. Surely it had to dry up eventually, right? One day they could recover the materials to build something new, somewhere else, instead of wondering about the necessity of life rafts next. But daring to catch a glimpse behind the barrier had only let too much out, and after that it was impossible to contain. It all came pouring out, sweeping them away. Ok. A single word. It’s a confirmation, a promise. It’s almost tempting to seal it with a kiss or offer up his pinky in a vow, but their trust ran the deepest in their relationship, sturdy roots with twenty years of depth. It’s why he showed up today, why he waited for her. They knew what this all meant, what they were agreeing to without explicitly saying it. Aaron can’t begin to comprehend the weight of it all, outshined by the hope radiating through his body, tunnel vision leading him back to her. The gravel is loud beneath their steps to the parking lot, Samira’s hand tucked in the crook of his arm as he escorted her. An objective, a purpose; his natural inclination to follow her and guard her. At her car he simply regards her, framed against the sky bruised by the colors of a setting sun. Ghosts wavering in place again, caught between two time dimensions, picking up where their teenaged selves left off. Appraising their reflections in the car window, Aaron committed this schedule to memory, knowing that he’ll live and breathe by it from now on, suddenly thankful that the Army had turned him into a morning person. “O eight hundred, you got it,” he agreed, reluctant to let go of her hands, to give her the clearance to leave. He wished simply to soak in the moment, basking in her presence, relishing the life breathed back into their love. Resuscitated and given a chance to grow, to heal, to live. “Goodnight, Sami.”