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"Are you happy?"
I turned around, treading water. Literally and figuratively. John and I were in the Watchtower’s upper deck pool supposedly swimming laps but really just goofing around. But when he asked that question, I wasn't sure what I should say. By nature, I never felt like a "happy" person. In the past, I didn't have all that much reason to be unhappy but that didn't mean it didn't turn out that way anyway. Now, after going through hell and back, I knew what true misery was, and I was definitely happier. But the feeling of bliss that went with what I imagined happiness was? That still eluded me.
“I guess so, why?” I was wary now.
“I was hoping for a more enthusiastic answer than that. That maybe I was making a difference.”
“Oh, in that way. I mean, sure.” I paddled a little closer and grabbed the bullnose edge of the pool to steady myself. “You’ve been great. I thought you meant in some existential way, and I was going to say, who’s ever happy like that?”
John sighed. “I’d like to think I was, when I was younger. You know, when I didn’t understand how the world worked. When I thought I was going to make a difference out there. Before I found out that a lot of what they had me doing wasn’t really helping anything but secure their business interests.”
“Ain’t that the truth. I think that’s been true since politics have been a thing.” I wondered where this conversation was going, though.
“But with everything going on, do you look at me like... I’m the right choice for you?
“The right... choice?”
“Yeah, like... I know I can be an asshole. I’m impatient and I’m angry. I’m overbearing. I say the wrong thing a lot. I complain. I’m pushy. I’m whiny. I’m divorced because of those things.”
“And those are your good qualities,” I quipped, and I could tell how much it pained him. “And I’m a smart-ass, and a bitch, and I’m stubborn, and also angry and impatient, and can be an asshole, I’m sarcastic and demanding and bossy. I lost my fiancé because I didn’t have the strength of character and self-control to stay out of a relationship with a commanding officer in the field and we got captured. Which makes me hate myself more and I’m certain I’m not a good catch.”
John looked at me skeptically. “Yeah, but you’re a woman, you’re young, and you’re cute, whereas me? Who’s going to want me? Temu Captain America. Even you... I’m still waiting to hear why you even are interested.”
“Oh, so this is what you’re looking for? ‘Make me feel better by telling me I’m wonderful?’And for the record, I’m not that young, I’m 27, for God’s sake.” I raised an eyebrow at him with a smirk, and he raised an eyebrow back, smiling beatifically at me. Oh brother.
“Okay. Fine,” and I swam a little closer to him so I could almost touch him. “First, I feel an affinity for you because you saved my ass from that insurgent camp. But also, the care with which you treated me, making me comfortable on the helo, the little pillow you made of that jacket and the way you held my hand when I broke down. You don’t know what it meant to me; how much it helped. I had felt so alone, and then you were there. And then of course, how you kept in touch, the messages, being able to talk to you about combat over there, sending you Dr. Raynor’s number and we could talk about our PTSD and lean on each other.”
I paused and thought harder, because I was trying to get to the core of what made John loveable to me. “Like, I know who you are, and you’re right, you are pushy and loud and sometimes ignorant, and sometimes an asshole. Impatient and demanding. But you’re also kind, and caring, and funny, and protective, and loving, and devoted. And persistent. God only knows that one, the way you made sure I didn’t get away.”
“You really think I’m all those things? Even though I ended up getting divorced? I failed in my marriage. You’re not worried that I won’t be able to hold it together with you?”
“You didn’t fail, John. It’s not even that you ‘grew apart.’ You’re both two different people, and you were shaped by some pretty hard circumstances. We both understand that, and it’s hard for others to grasp it. Other people with PTSD from different sources might get it, other people who are sensitive to what’s happened to you might get it, but not everyone understands. Believe me. That’s not your moral failure or a personality flaw. Or at least, that’s what Dr. Raynor told me.”
“I think she told me that, too, but at that point, I’m not sure divorce was a certainty. Well, the other thing... do you think I’m a cool superhero like Bucky or Sam?”
“Ok, that’s not a serious question,” and I splashed water on him.
“It’s a very serious question,” and he lunged for me but missed.
“Hold up, you never told me why I’m supposedly loveable.” I looked at him curiously now.
“Yes, I did, earlier. I said you’re a woman, you’re young, and you’re cute. End of.”
“Jesus. Why me?”
“Hey, you wanted this. If I recall, you even got jealous of Yelena when you first got here,” John sniped at me. Shots fired.
“I most certainly did not!” My faux indignance was on point. “I was merely caught off guard by her enthusiasm for you; I mistook it for something else.”
“Something else,” he snorted. “You were jealous. Admit it. You hid for two weeks.”
“You must have enjoyed the peace and quiet, then.”
His face turned serious with the memory. “I hated every minute of it. I don’t think you realized how much changed when you came to my place and offered me to stay at your mom’s apartment with you. I felt like I was drowning and you pulled me out in the nick of time. You talk about me saving you, but you saved me at one of the lowest points of my life with my marriage and how bad my PTSD was right then. Being able to stay in the same room, it anchored me. I don’t know if I would have made it through without you.”
“I’m pretty sure I can say the same thing about you. We were always pals once we met, but you became my best friend in my Mami’s house. But I knew that things had changed between us when you got that head cold. It scared me because I wasn’t sure if either of us were really ready, if our personalities would even mesh past being friends. But… I don’t know. It just works,” I shrugged.
“‘It just works.’ You are perpetually online, you and your video games.”
“You’re just mad that I’m better at Call of Duty than you are. But I guess what is important here, since you want to have your ego stroked, is that if people can’t get around your big personality and your bigger mouth,” and I got seriously splashed for that, “they’re missing out on a great guy if they would only take the time to know you. But that’s ok, more for me.”
“Oh, it’s an all-you-can-eat John buffet for you,” he dove at me this time and we were like two awkward seals until we got upright and came back to the surface. I put my arms around his neck, and he grabbed me by my ass cheeks. “Put your legs around me,” he commanded.
“John,” I warned, “we are not going to do that here.” But I did what he asked anyway.
“Why not?” he wheedled, kissing my ear.
“What if someone comes?” I half groaned, half whispered.
“I know two people who will,” he growled before he bit my neck.
“Oh, God. Okay, you win, I’m weak, do what you will,” I sighed.
John’s voice was smug. “You did say I was persistent.” I did not mind. If it hadn’t been for that persistence, we’d have never been together, and I was grateful.