12. Jack

12

JACK

I scan the craft beer selection that's lined up behind the bar. I'd kill for a decent dark ale or a German pilsner. But there's nothing but American beer.

I select a Wild Taste pale ale that's brewed locally. When I was talking to Symon, he mentioned the brewery on the other side of the mountain run by veterans who are all part of a motorcycle club. Another distinctly American thing that I'll have to get my head around if I'm to stay.

And that is the question. Does Suzie want me around interrupting her life and her son's routine? Or am I better off leaving her to the life she's built?

I sit on a stool at the bar nursing the beer, my heart heavy with regret. If I'd only been able to tell her why I left three years ago. If I'd only been able to contact her, things would be different.

I silently curse the military and the oath I swore and the things it took away from me. But worst of all, the things it took away from Suzie.

She went through this all on her own. The death of her mother and then the pregnancy. I imagine her all alone, scared and determined and cursing my name. No wonder she wasn't happy to see me when I turned up.

"The climbing didn't win her over then?" Corbin leans on the bar next to me. I'm not surprised he's heard about the climbing expedition; the guys seem like a tight group.

Making love to Suzie against the side of a cliff seems like a lifetime ago. I run a hand down my face.

"Do you ever regret your time in the military?"

Corbin looks down and fiddles with the dishcloth he's holding. I've struck a nerve, and I'm immediately sorry.

"I lost my best friend in Iraq."

I take a swig of beer, feeling the heaviness of his loss. We all left someone behind over there, and it never gets any easier. "I'm sorry for your loss."

He runs the dishcloth through his fingers. "But I still don't regret joining up. I don't regret fighting for my country and keeping her safe from our enemies."

Spoken like a true American with never a doubt about what they're doing. I wish I had some of that true blue patriotism right now, because I'm finding it hard to reconcile the choices I made with what I gave up.

"I didn't always feel like that," he continues quietly. "Not for a long time. Not for years."

I pause with my beer to my lips. It's not often you hear an American speak any doubts about their military service, and I appreciate him for being open with me.

"It was hard coming back here. Back to my hometown. I hated it for a long time, wondering why Paul was taken and not me."

Another man joins us. Kobe, I remember his name. The one with the limp and the young boy. He puts a hand on Corbin's shoulder, a gesture between men who have been through the worst with each other.

"It's not easy adjusting to civilian life," Kobe says. "Seeing the things you missed out on and wondering if life has passed you by. None of us came back the same men as when we left."

"Except Symon," Corbin puts in with a smile. "That motherfucker has always been a happy guy. Nothing breaks his spirit."

"And Dylan," Kobe adds. "He was grumpy before he went in and grumpy when he came out." They share a chuckle, and I feel a pang of recognition of men who served together and the bond they share.

You don't get that anywhere else but the military.

"It helps to have a good woman," Kobe says pointedly. He saw me in here the other day with Suzie. It seems the entire town is rooting for her. I wonder if they know that I'm George's father. That I'm the asshole who left her to raise a child on her own for three years.

Shame makes my cheeks heat, and I swig my beer so the guys don't see.

"It's hard for anyone to understand why we chose that life," Kobe says quietly. "To give so much up is a sacrifice for sure. But all the more reason to grab hold of life once you get out. Make up for the things you missed." He puts a firm hand on my shoulder and gives me a pointed look.

The comment makes me think he does know that George is mine, but his face remains passive. He's as good at hiding his true feelings as I am.

The men start up a conversation about the darts competition and wander off to the other side of the bar, leaving me along with my thoughts.

Guilt riddles me about what Suzie's been through, and I don't know if I can ever make it right between us.

There's only one thing I know for sure. I left Suzie once; I won't leave her again.