Cockpit Confidential

[Patrick]

FROM: Patrick Richie <p.w.richie@rhy.rasg.mil>
DATE: Thur, Jul 12, 2018 at 3:34 AM
SUBJECT: On tonight's episode of 'As Rhydin Turns'
TO: Nohemi <henaghann@rhaven.net>


Hemi,

This might end up really long, so I apologize in advance for any rambling. I can't sleep.

But where to begin? I guess technically you already know the beginning. I'm pretty sure my pathetic breakdown last year is seared into the memory of all who heard about it or experienced it. Boy meets girl, girl likes boy. Boy is an idiot and ****s everything up. Did you know I still replay that scene in my head? It's like some horror movie I can't escape, stuck on a loop, playing over and over and over. What's that called? Residual embarrassment or something. I can't remember. I read about it somewhere (of course I did).

Which reminds me of another thing I read by Gene Sheppard. He said, "There are about four times in a man's life, or a woman's, too, for that matter, when unexpectedly, from out of the darkness, the blazing carbon lamp, the cosmic searchlight of Truth shines full upon them. It is how we react to those moments that forever seals our fate. One crowd simply puts on its sunglasses, lights another cigar, and heads for the nearest plush French restaurant in the jazziest section of town, sits down and orders a drink, and ignores the whole thing. While we the Doomed, caught in the brilliant glare of illumination, see ourselves inescapably for what we are, and from that day on skulk in the weeds, hoping no one else will spot us."

I wish I'd brought my sunglasses with me on that date. Then I wouldn't be suffering from all this residual embarrassment over crying about an ex in front of my date. What can I say? I have cornered the market in bad luck. You know who has my sunglasses now? Penny. Maybe I should get another pair, just to be safe, because I feel like the universe is plotting against me.

I finally found my way out of the quagmire of being fixated on my shortcomings, got myself to a pretty damn good place (I thought), and even worked up the courage to make my move (I kissed Penny. Contain yourself--we'll get to that in a moment). And what happens? Narcissus himself interrupts my working lunch to apologize for "his part in how everything went down." He couldn't even say the word cheating. I just wanted him to go away, Hemi. But he wouldn't. He had to get it off his chest or whatever. Assuage his guilt, I'm assuming. I could have taken the high road, but I didn't. Looking back on it now, I wish I hadn't stooped to that level. That's not who I want to be.

Who knows. Maybe Sal's right. I told him I didn't want to be a bitter, vindictive, angry person. I just wanted to be who I was before I met Ed. He asked me if I was sure that person hadn't always been there. Perhaps he's got a point. What if I'm actually a terrible person? How do I fix that? I guess I took a baby step tonight. Ran into some people on the beach and through the course of talking, realized the one girl knew Ed. There were other contributing factors, but obviously I left--and managed to do it without saying anything awful about him. I need a gold star or something.

I just need to remind myself it's not actually bad, that these two incidents are tiny blips in the grand scheme of Life As I Know It. Things have been amazing for me, actually. That whole issue with Penny being married? That got resolved! I'm pretty sure she owes some faerie a favor now, but that's besides the point. She's single, available, and still interested. And despite the fact that I have no idea what in the hell I'm doing, I kissed her and it was amazing and I thought my feet would never touch the ground again for how weightless it made me feel. That was two weeks ago. Unfortunately, I've let a couple things get to me, but on the whole? Holy ****. I didn't think I'd ever get back to this place. All I have to do is think about her and I get stupidly giddy. She holds my hand and it's like my heart wants to explode out of my chest with excitement. I'd like nothing better than to spend every waking second with her -- hell, I could be doing crossword puzzles in the same room as her and I'd be happy.

But it scares me a little, too, you know? I let everything get out of hand with Ed. I ignored my own principals to do what felt good. And maybe that would have been okay if it hadn't turned out the way it did. But the way I see it, all it got me was a broken heart because I gave everything to someone I didn't really know. I don't care what other people do. This is just how I feel about it. I just didn't think it would be so hard to hold back. Because... I kiss her and I don't want to stop. I'm just afraid that if I let myself get in too deep, I'll make a mistake. I'll **** it up somehow and end up regretting it. I hate that I look at my first relationship and regret everything about it, because even the good things are tainted by the way it ended. Penny is... I don't know. Words fail me. I don't want to regret her, no matter how it turns out. Does that make sense?

God, it feels like my head's going to explode. Tell me I'm not crazy. Tell me I'm not defective because I haven't ****ed around with a bunch of people like Zan implies. And tell me when you've got a free afternoon so I can come show you the ****ing awesome car Penny's best friend gave me.

-Trick

[Patrick]

FROM: Patrick Richie <p.w.richie@rhy.rasg.mil>
DATE: Mon, Nov 18, 2018 at 2:09 AM
SUBJECT: Undeliverable: Re:
TO: Mom & Dad <momanddad@rhydin.net>


A problem occurred while delivering this message.

----- The following addresses had permanent fatal errors -----
<momanddad@rhydin.net>
550-5.1.1 The email account you tried to reach does not exist.


----- Original message -----


I wonder sometimes whether or not seeing me as I am now would make you proud, but I never know how to answer that question because I don’t know what kind of people you were. The vague memories of you I do have are probably only small bits of truth mixed with lies, the wishful thinking and longing of a child desperate for the perfect fantasy inside his head from which he could escape the horrors of abuse.

I like to think I did my best given the circumstances, that I only ever did what I had to do to survive, and gave back to the world when I was able. But if that’s true, then it means my best led me to where I am now. Every choice I’ve ever made put me here in this place where I’m currently struggling, sick to my stomach with the thought that I’ll never get rid of this feeling of wrongness, of other. I don’t know how to qualify it. All I know is it isn’t comfortable.

But discomfort isn’t inherently bad. Growth is often uncomfortable, yet it is required of anyone who wishes to mature. Stagnation is abhorrent. I don’t want to be stuck as I am, especially now. For better or for worse, I have to find a way to break free of this prison of thought before it drives me insane.

What if I were to tell you something terrible? That I had done something terrible. Would you still love me?

I killed someone.

I don’t think it bothers anyone else that I did it. No one’s mentioned anything. But why would they? I went away to make myself a soldier, maybe they think it’s my natural course. I’ve even got the medals to prove it. I thought it would be difficult to pick up a gun and learn to use it after what happened to you; I spent so many years telling myself those weapons were evil. I was expecting to fail--miserably--so I could point at the result and claim cosmic proof. But that isn’t what happened. Instead I was lauded for my skill. Not only that, but I was proud of it, too.

Those skills helped me save someone. Someone I love very much. It was an act of self defense born out of desperation. It wasn’t a choice. Justifiable homicide is what it’s called. Big Sarge would call it a lawful kill.

It’s been over a month and I still see her face, and not just in my dreams. I don’t know what I was thinking; I was in survival mode at the time. My girlfriend was going to die if I didn’t do anything. There was nothing to consider, I just pointed my gun and pulled the trigger. At the time I felt nothing.

...I feel nothing now. That’s what bothers me. Oh sure, I’m nauseated by the mental image of it. The scent of blood turns my stomach, but there’s no remorse for what I did. I’d do it again if I had to, a hundred thousand times. But I should feel something, shouldn’t I? It should have been difficult to pull the trigger. My indifference is what truly sickens me.

What happened to the part of me that cared? Or is this who I really am?

Afterward, I cleaned the gore from Penny’s face while she slept. The scene played as if on a loop in my mind, over and over, and there was only fierce appreciation for Penny’s safety (and that of my party) and an intense spark of love that has since taken over like wildfire. There wasn’t room for anything else. I kept waiting to break down over it. Still waiting.

Perhaps I’m broken.

I’d like to think you’d still love me if I was broken.

-P