I feel her pain and know there's nothing I can say to soothe the guilt and fear that comes with seeing someone die before your eyes. I squeeze her hand instead, understanding better where she's coming from. Sex, or maybe intimacy, has a way of grounding me, reminding me that I'm human when the world feels like it's about to end. It's no surprise that it does the same with others.
There would be no complicated emotions with Harper like there would've been with Katya, had I slept with her. This would be physical, purely stress relief and companionship.
"Thanks. I'll keep it in mind," I respond and face the computer once more.
"Get some rest," Harper says and stands.
I nod and check my email, ready to shoot off a note to my commander, who is stationed around Baghdad.
There's an email from Katya in my inbox. I blink and hit refresh. I've been tired enough to hallucinate before.
It's really there.
Leaning forward, my exhaustion slides away, replaced by intense curiosity about hearing from her when I never expected to again. I don't know why I hesitate to open it, but I do.
Finally clicking, I see her note is short and there's an attachment.
Hey-
Assignment I did in counseling. Probably not supposed to send it. Figured I had nothing to lose.
KK
I'm not getting a warm fuzzies about this. My gaze lingers on the first sentence. I'm guessing Petr and their father convinced her to go into counseling, and I'm impressed she did it.
My stomach churns when I open her attachment.
To the man who let my brother die.
I find myself pushing away physically from the computer, as if it will put distance between the issue and me. Realizing how ridiculous that is, I force myself to read.
The letter is pure Katya, filled with emotion, passion, honesty and directness. If I thought she was candid at camp, this letter takes it to a whole new level. Anguish, rage, sorrow … all are expressed clearly in such a raw manner that I struggle to close the door on my own reeling feelings. The sense of being stripped to the soul and twisted inside out, the same I experienced standing at Mikael's funeral, return. It's stronger this time, crippling, because the emotions aren't mine alone. They're hers, too. I don't want to … I can't see the depth of the pain I've inadvertently caused others. I can't live with myself if I do, can't function as a leader the way I need to. The hour or two to sleep I get a night will turn into minutes if I let myself dwell on how much I hurt for others.