He should have known she wouldn't come back for him. When she pushed herself over that balcony he knew. When Elizabeth said she might come back, he knew. Yet when he saw that bastion of light, he let himself hope like a fucking idiot.
If there was one thing Emilio could rely on, it was that Amy was unreliable. It was fun when they first got together. Amy loved hard. When Emilio had spent his days in routines and formations, the spontaneity and fierce passion was something that he got sucked into. He didn't really know how.
She never really hated him. There was never an opposition to love. One day, and he never knew which day, she would simply need to put her love on mute. It was like holding the energy of filling the bedroom with candles and rose petals, or organising a weekend away so they could learn about farm animals, left her unable to hold the stable feeling of love.
When he came home with the mates who were lucky enough to come home too, a lot of them went to the pokies. They would spend days there. He thought they were stupid. He would pride himself on how smart he was that he didn't fall into the gambling trap. That he found some purpose to his life: Family.
Maybe his ticket to a family, Amy, was just a gamble too. She held herself accountable to her past. Her sobriety journey was admirable. Nonetheless, each day was a gamble as to how much love she would pay out to him. Perhaps he was just as stupid as the mates that disappeared to pubs and casinos for hours at a time. Christ, it was good when her love paid out though. It was an intense zap to his brain that would keep him going. It was always memorable and something to cherish.
Sometimes it hurt though. He knew he was lucky to come home. He knew, from all the wars, all the veterans, all of the history of the army that he was lucky to be able to see way more of his mates than the blokes from the years past. Sometimes he wondered how much of a gift it was when so many of them came back way different than when they left. The guys from the older wars might not have had many mates return outside of boxes, but at least their final memories were of something brave and heroic. Not blacking out and getting into a fight with a bouncer.
It wasn't all awful. There were lots of mateship programs to help keep him involved after he returned. Even after he left service he'd get checked up on. He would come to events for active and past military, and have a gander at all the new weaponry. He'd get to tell some tall tales to the fresh meat standing bright eyed by their little demonstration stall, just happy that they were getting a day off. He'd get to hang with other men, and women too, who just got it. Sure, Amy was a trooper in her own way but it just wasn't the same.
There was one day in particular, a family fun run day to raise money for veterans and the families of those who hadn't returned, that would always be seared in his mind. Emilio supposed he'd tried to wipe it when the smoke wiped Amy from the earth. He should have kept it in mind, even when those fucking candles were lit.
It was Amy's idea. She'd signed them up for the 10k course. She wasn't super sporty, but she kept in shape. Emilio wasn't scared of much, but he certainly tried to outrun the jiggle as he got older. He lived for the gym and 10 kilometers was nothing for him. Nonetheless, he said "yes dear" because he enjoyed spending time with his wife and doing active outdoor fitness activities helped give her the endorphins required to make drugs less enticing.
I think she knew he'd say yes because the cause was close to him. He appreciated that she was thoughtful, even if she didn't show it all the time. It was like a bubbling obsession that would overflow every now and again. She was always on the lookout for things he would like, even on the days she'd barely speak a word to him. On a surface level he knew that, but it was harder to convince the vulnerable parts of him that their wedding vows were carved in stone.
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She'd gone out for some after work drinks with her colleagues the evening before. He didn't think anything of it, because he wasn't going to stop her having some fun. She knew that she had the run the next day and he wasn't her keeper. As 7pm rolled around, he sent a text. By 10pm he had a sinking feeling.
"Gonna stay at Shay's tonight. See you at the run." or words to that effect, with much worse spelling and grammar. The letters scattered and emojis peppered in.
That's when he knew it was time for bed. He told her ok, that he loved her, and he went to bed. After every single point in his life, including firearms pointed directly at his person, he never felt more powerless than when he knew Amy was failing.
What could he do? He knew the stereotype of the overcontrolling jarhead-type who never let his wife have any fun. Amy watched a lot of trash TV and on those shows with the wives swapping, there would always be defense force guys who were total tools and ran their families like a squad. He never wanted to be that guy.
Sure, he was harsh around the edges, he had a temper, he knew he had marks in his soul from the things he had been through to fight for his country. That didn't mean he wanted to make the country he fought for worse by being a dickhead. Accountability was one thing he cared a lot about.
The next day he showed up to the run alone. He saw the people with their families. Pangs of jealousy struck his heart as he saw dads with their cute kids in matching running shoes. Feelings of a sad nostalgia passed across his chest when he saw young men and women in their fatigues smiling with each other, forming friendships he wish he could feel the passion in again. There were a few old friends that he'd give the nod too, cementing that over all the years they were merely acquaintances now.
By the time the race was assembling, Amy had not shown up. He craned his neck, called her phone, sent her texts. While the army band played a cover of that song from The Breakfast Club and some guy from a Brisbane radio station read out the sponsor list, it was clear he'd be running alone. He still ran. Of course, he still ran. When Emilio said he would do something, he did it. When he died, the last thing he wanted was a bunch of ANZACs tougher than him giving him a hard time for all eternity for piking out on his commitments.
He gave it his all. For a while, once the endorphins kicked in, he really did enjoy himself. Everyone was friendly and giving each other encouragement as they went by. There were vets and families that he got to chat with when he slowed down to jog, or stop at the water stations. He really didn't feel alone, but he didn't get to share it with his wife.
When he was young and his face couldn't grow a beard to save his life, all he wanted was to die in a war so his life had purpose. As he grew up, he didn't want to die any more because through connecting to people like him, he realised family life was a perfectly fine aspiration. Sure, he ended up finding no weapons of mass destruction, and he wasn't met with a parade when he got home, but at least he could find someone to love.
He did. She loved him fiercely. Except when she didn't show up. Except when she fell off the wagon. Except when she'd burned herself out from a cycle of overcompensating from the guilt of never quite being able to get a handle on a steady-burning relationship.
Those bright candles in Moss & Fire got his hopes up that it was one final gesture. He thought she'd come for him. That she'd take him too. He would gladly hold her hand one more time and help keep her safe through to whatever came next. All he wanted was to protect her as best he could. Be the bumpers as she spiraled. It was naïve of him.
When Emilio made commitments, he would never break them. The vows he made to his wife were carved on the inner working of his soul. Yet times like that, running in a family fun run without his wife after fighting to try and do some good in the world, he realised it would only hurt him to ever expect the same.
He would never leave her, but once she fell from that ledge he knew she wasn't coming back. To let himself have even a sliver of hope was foolish. He didn't like being played a fool. With 120 rocks in the back room, he knew that someone in the so called "Three days of darkness" was absolutely taking the piss.