breathing
I was jolted from an all nighter by the phone. Let's be real, I've barely slept in 9 days. I don't even remember last night's show.
Now, I know that lang_noriegavos was wondering why I'd given up. I hadn't. Believe it or not. But, I also needed to be ready for what felt like the inevitable. Had this gone on another day, it would have been inevitable, for the record.
There was an accident on the way to the camp he was meeting with and he broke his leg. The accident took them off course as it was, and the broken leg slowed everything down. His guide refused to leave him, thankfully. They crawled their way back toward a road, where his guide did leave him and ran for help.
He's in a hospital in Lima and is being flown back to the states in a couple of days, once he's stable. Surgery awaits. Right now, he's dehydrated. He hasn't eaten in a week. There are some spider bites that are apparently questionable.
My marriage to Jake lasted five days. Five days of passion and anger and realizing very quickly that shared trauma is a terrible basis for a relationship. When he took off to Canada to avoid the draft, a part of me breathed a sigh of relief. When he and I didn't get married again a couple of years ago, that same sigh emerged.
I don't do romantic relationships. I have a relationship with my work, with my son. I have friends. I don't have time for romance. But we've only been together a few months and I like this guy. A lot. I care about him. I want to make adjustments for him. If we were just this fling that everyone around us seems to think we are, I wouldn't have had to prepare myself for what felt like a sudden slamming of the door in my face.
But it's a reminder to me. Peter reports from some of the most dangerous places in the world. He's been shot more than once, he's had guns held to his head, he's been held hostage so that some group can get their story out to the world. He goes where things are blowing up because Americans don't like to face the reality that a lot of the time, things are blowing up because we're making them blow up. Or we had a hand in it some way. This was just an accident, a broken leg, and it could have killed him.
There's no question for me - I want to keep this going. I want to see where it goes. We promised we'd be together until this crashed and burned and it hasn't crashed yet. There's no burning. But at the same time, how do I put Avery through this? He already adores Peter. What if next time he doesn't come back from the jungle?
I used to live Peter's life. I dodged bombs and ran from gunfire and dealt with mercenaries who wanted to smell my hair. I didn't settle down with anyone because I didn't want the stress, the worry. But see ... the night we decided to try this ... relationship ... he was over at my house, his arm in a sling after being shot by a Serbian sniper. And the reason he came back to DC was because when he went down, when the bullet tore his arm, he saw my face. Not his mother's, not some old girlfriend. No, my face. And when he left, I told him if he was ever shot at again and he saw my face, to picture it telling him to stay down. I could have laughed it off. He could have. But no, we're in this. We understand each other. We get it.
Now, I wait for him to get flown home for surgery. I wait to meet his parents. There's rehab and next steps and I have literally no idea how any of this is going to work. I'm just his girlfriend. I have no say in any of this. But, still, all I want is to be in that hospital room, holding his hand.
Now, I know that lang_noriegavos was wondering why I'd given up. I hadn't. Believe it or not. But, I also needed to be ready for what felt like the inevitable. Had this gone on another day, it would have been inevitable, for the record.
There was an accident on the way to the camp he was meeting with and he broke his leg. The accident took them off course as it was, and the broken leg slowed everything down. His guide refused to leave him, thankfully. They crawled their way back toward a road, where his guide did leave him and ran for help.
He's in a hospital in Lima and is being flown back to the states in a couple of days, once he's stable. Surgery awaits. Right now, he's dehydrated. He hasn't eaten in a week. There are some spider bites that are apparently questionable.
My marriage to Jake lasted five days. Five days of passion and anger and realizing very quickly that shared trauma is a terrible basis for a relationship. When he took off to Canada to avoid the draft, a part of me breathed a sigh of relief. When he and I didn't get married again a couple of years ago, that same sigh emerged.
I don't do romantic relationships. I have a relationship with my work, with my son. I have friends. I don't have time for romance. But we've only been together a few months and I like this guy. A lot. I care about him. I want to make adjustments for him. If we were just this fling that everyone around us seems to think we are, I wouldn't have had to prepare myself for what felt like a sudden slamming of the door in my face.
But it's a reminder to me. Peter reports from some of the most dangerous places in the world. He's been shot more than once, he's had guns held to his head, he's been held hostage so that some group can get their story out to the world. He goes where things are blowing up because Americans don't like to face the reality that a lot of the time, things are blowing up because we're making them blow up. Or we had a hand in it some way. This was just an accident, a broken leg, and it could have killed him.
There's no question for me - I want to keep this going. I want to see where it goes. We promised we'd be together until this crashed and burned and it hasn't crashed yet. There's no burning. But at the same time, how do I put Avery through this? He already adores Peter. What if next time he doesn't come back from the jungle?
I used to live Peter's life. I dodged bombs and ran from gunfire and dealt with mercenaries who wanted to smell my hair. I didn't settle down with anyone because I didn't want the stress, the worry. But see ... the night we decided to try this ... relationship ... he was over at my house, his arm in a sling after being shot by a Serbian sniper. And the reason he came back to DC was because when he went down, when the bullet tore his arm, he saw my face. Not his mother's, not some old girlfriend. No, my face. And when he left, I told him if he was ever shot at again and he saw my face, to picture it telling him to stay down. I could have laughed it off. He could have. But no, we're in this. We understand each other. We get it.
Now, I wait for him to get flown home for surgery. I wait to meet his parents. There's rehab and next steps and I have literally no idea how any of this is going to work. I'm just his girlfriend. I have no say in any of this. But, still, all I want is to be in that hospital room, holding his hand.