Just Remember to Breathe (Thompson Sisters)

Roberts died. And I’m telling you, you need to stop killing yourself over that shit. You didn’t kill either one of them. It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t mine. It wasn’t anybody’s except the fucking terrorists who killed them.”
    “What does that have to do with anything?”
    “Just tell me what you were going to say to Alex.”
    “Why? Why in God’s name do you care?”
    “Because we’re brothers, man. We’ve been through shit no one else knows about. We’ve been through shit they don’t want to know about. And I don’t want to see you fuck your life up. And, I care about Alex and her sister, and I don’t want to see you fuck her up, either!”
    I shouted back. “Don’t you understand, I’m no good for her! I’m no different than my father was! What if it was her I hit? Instead of that fucking wall? What then? It’ll happen some day! Some day I’m going to lose control of myself and end up hurting her! And I’d rather die! I’ll kill myself before I do that to her, Sherman. I mean it.”
    He shook his head. “That’s a fucking cop-out, Paris. You’re you, not your father.”
    The door opened. And she was standing there. Crying. And I couldn’t fucking take it any more. Because she was crying because of me. She was crying for me.
    “Oh, God, Alex, I’m so sorry. I can’t do this.”
    She looked at me, tears running down her face, and said, “You don’t have to.”
    I turned away from them, put my uninjured arm against the wall, and slowly, slowly, leaned my head against it. “Alex,” I said, “You’re… you’re so much better than me. I was always a fuckup. Don’t you get it? I don’t want to drag you down with me.”
    She approached me, and touched my arm, then slowly wrapped her arms around it.
    “Dylan,” she whispered. “You bring out the best in me. You always have.”
    I whispered, “But I fucked up, Alex. If I hadn’t lost it the way I did, the way my father always did, we would never have been sent out on that patrol. And Roberts wouldn’t have died.”
    “Fuck,” Sherman said, throwing himself on the bed. “Maybe you’re fucking right. If we hadn’t been sent out that day, it would have been a different patrol. And you know what? Then they would have caught the shit instead. If it had been second platoon, if they’d gone out there as scheduled, and gotten fucked up like we did, would you be sitting here feeling guilty about it? Jesus Christ, Dylan. What about later on, after you left? Weber bought it three weeks later. Taking a piss, and a sniper got him. He died with his fucking dick hanging out. Is that your fucking fault too? That’s what war is.”
    I looked at him, feeling as lost as I’ve ever been in my life. I didn’t know that. Jesus Christ. Weber died taking a piss?
    I took a long, careful look at Alex. At her tears and grief. And then I thought how much worse it would be if I dragged her into my world. A world where people died taking a piss, a world where drunken husbands beat their wives half to death, a world where her boyfriend was going to be on trial for assault, or maybe attempted murder.
    I couldn’t do that to her.
    I shook my head, in sudden negation, and said, my voice at a broken near whisper, “I’m sorry, Alex. I can’t do this to you. It’s too big a risk. It’s over. I’m so sorry.”
    Her expression didn’t change, except to slightly stiffen. She stood up a little straighter maybe. But I could see in her eyes that I’d dealt a blow, one that she’d likely never forgive me for. She blinked to clear her eyes, then said, “I am too, Dylan. You have no idea how much. But let me tell you just one thing.”
    She stepped even closer than she already was, until we were face to face, no more than two inches apart.
    In a clear, strong voice, she said, “You don’t get to decide what’s too big a risk for me. You don’t decide what’s good for me and what isn’t. That’s my decision, Dylan. If you care about me so much, then how dare you do this all by yourself? I choose not to destroy my present because of the risk of a future that might or might not happen. You should think about that.”
    Then she turned and walked out.
    Sherman stood there, looking at me, then muttered a curse. He shook his head, and then said, “I never thought I’d say this to you, Dylan. But you’re a fucking idiot. I’m not staying around to watch this train wreck.”
    My eyes darted to him, and I said, my voice cold, “I didn’t