Messner turned over under the blankets, feeling uncomfortable.
Linda had never replied to any of his letters.
He scratched his nose, he turned again.
He wanted to stay in contact with her.
Jesus Christ... He wanted to be friends with her, if she just wanted it too.
He sat up, then rested his back on the wall.
Really?
Did he really hope to be friends with a married woman with whom he had just had a bad-ending love affair?
Stupid, stupid, stupid – he thought.
How stupid I was..
How could the fact that she had never replied to any of his letters hurt him that much? All in all he had never loved her for real.
Are you sure?
No, in that moment he was not sure about anything.
His head was in confusion because of all of the things that he was studying at the time (emergency medicine that makes your flesh creep), and his legs hurt him like hell because of the ten hours’ march of that day, with the heavy-loaded rucksacks over Fort Bragg's hills.
Are you sure you never loved her for real?
What he was sure about, is that he didn't love her for real while he was dating her.
But why did leaving her hurt him so much, if he did not love her why he was with her?
God damn it – he thought.
Stupid, stupid, stupid..
While you were with her, you never even dared to hope that it could last for real.
But therefore, was there any sense in hoping that her husband would ever leave her?
Leaving a head physician for a Special Forces ‘grunt'?
Idiot..
You never really hoped, but it has always been what you really wanted anyway.
Stupid idiot.
That's the reason you really want her to reply to your letters.
For the umpteenth time he turned over in bed, and his legs gave him a sharp pain again.
Sleep Messner, or tomorrow you won't even stay on your feet during the march or you are going to fall asleep later, during the lessons, on the desk.