Deborah MauldinENG 3020 Creative Writing II - FictionNovember 10, 2009OF BLOOD AND BLISSVisualizing my torso to be a balloon, I inhale deeply, filling up my bodywith great amounts of oxygen until I can sip no more in. Holding for a fullsecond I release the carbon dioxide, slowly, contracting my abdominal wall,pulling in my obliques and collapsing my diaphragm to consciously work theexhale.Dropping my shoulders and straightening my spine I murmur to theman behind me."I'm ready."Simultaneously his gloved hands come to rest against my shoulderblades as a loud buzzing noise fills the space around us. Within seconds andwithout warning the stinging sensation begins and my nerves jump toattention. It has begun. The point of no return has been breached.While growing up no one ever told me to follow my dreams, explicitlyor otherwise. Since that sort of conversation never occurred, I had neverbeen informed that to do so would involve pain. Leaning my forehead againstthe head rest, I focus on the point of the needle being jabbed over and overinto the skin of my upper back. As the pain registers panic sets in andmesses with my breath control."Holy fuck this hurts!" I breath out in shock."What? No way," Bri, the sadist behind me, scoffs. "You were in theMarines for Christ sake! You should be able to handle this, no problem."Internally I agree. Externally I tell him to fuck off on another barelycontrolled exhale. He just chuckles and keeps pressing into my back with hisloud little instrument of torture.Closing my eyes I work to control my breathing and turn my focuselsewhere. I force the design I created specifically for this purpose to theforefront of my third eye. The familiar phrase passes through my lips in a hisson another exhale, keeping me committed to my seat like an oral lodestone.From there my mind wanders down familiar paths past the memoriesand facts of my life that claim direct influence over my current pain.Faces float across the backs of my eyelids as I force steady inhales andexhales. All the men I've ever allowed to get close to me led me to Bri and

his chair. Each one in their own way influenced the development of mysingle-minded dedication to the principle being etched into my shoulderblades, but none of them have anything to do with the why of my new tattoo.No. That distinction belongs to my daughter. A sweet girl of seven, sheis still too young to understand the message I have for her. This message isthe most important lesson I have to pass on to her, which is why I'm puttingit down in ink. My hope is that she skips over the unpleasantness I had toexperience in order to learn this lesson and get straight to the good stuff forher own life. Preferably as soon as possible.At this thought another face presents itself against my blind vision. Thelast conversation I had with this face overwhelms the static image and I amcaught back up in the web...

"I'm not going to do it, babe." Jake stated firmly.Twirling more pasta onto my fork I looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean? What aren't you going to do?" I asked."I've decided that I'm not running the R.I.P course next month."Surprised by this statement, I set my fork down and took a sip of water to clear my throat. Setting my glass back down, I cocked my head slightly and narrowed my eyes at him. Suspicion began to creep it's way into my stomach. "What do you mean you're not going to run the R.I.P? Don't youneed to do that to be a Recon Marine?"R.I.P. stands for Reconnaissance Indoctrination Program. Marines must pass the program in order to become members of the elite within the elite.The Marine Corps is considered an elite fighting force in and of itself, but Recon Marines are the absolute cream of the crop. The best of the best of the Few and the Proud."I'm tired from all the time I've spent away from you because of boot camp and infantry training. We've been married less than a year and we'vehardly lived together because of all that," he replied. "Recon Marines deploy a lot and I just don't want to be away from you more than I absolutely haveto."Oh no he didn't."Are you serious?" I scoffed. "Going recon was your original purpose in joining the Marines!" I started feeling sick to my stomach. I didn't like wherethis conversation was going. Not one bit.

"Yeah, well, I changed my mind," he shrugged. "I love you, Kat. It sucksto be away from you so I'm not going to do it anymore."Oh yes he did. Jake just traded in his dream for me and I never evenasked him to do it. Hell, I was excited for him to go and do and be all thethings he ever talked about. We were young and fierce with the whole world at our fingertips. It never occurred to me that he would step down from the plate to sit at home. The very idea made my blood boil. I wished I hadn't ordered the fettucini alfredo. It wasn't going to look pretty coming back up.Taking several deep breaths to calm myself, I had to look away fromhim. Once the urge to throw up had passed I glared into his velvet browneyes. "You mean to tell me that you've given up on your dream?" I accused through clenched teeth.His eyes widened in shock at the poison in my voice. He sat back and looked down at the table, confusion marring his features. "You thought that was my dream?" he finally asked."You’ve said as much, Jake! You never talked about being just aMarine. It was always being a RECON Marine that you raved on about. You'vebeen getting ready for this R.I.P. course since before you went to boot camp!" I was quickly losing my calm at this point. "Don't insult my intelligence by now claiming that it was never your dream.""So?" He shrugged again. "I just don't want to do it now. What's the bigdeal?"My back stiffened. "I'll tell you what the big deal is! I refuse to take theblame for you bailing on running the R.I.P. course. If you don't want tobecause you're afraid you might fail, or for whatever other reason you might have, that's fine. I don't really care. But frankly the idea that you're not going to do it because you don't want to leave me makes my skin crawl.""What the fuck, Kat!" he exclaimed. "Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?""It means, Jake, that I don't want to be blamed as the reason for your regret at not having gone through with it. The idea of you blaming me for this pisses me off to the nth degree.""And what makes you think I would do that?" his eyes narrowed at me."Because one day I'm going to piss you off and you're going to wonder why you even married me. Then you'll begin to regret all the things youdidn't do because of me."