The d-word

K and I were on our way home from the bar after kickball. We had given a friend from another team a ride home.

"We have to have a big party and invite their whole team over. I really like them."

K agreed.

"Maybe for our birthdays! I really do want to do a big blowout this year for my 28th. I mean, since we're moving next summer, well be getting settled and won't do anything big next year. And you'll probably be deployed for my 30th. Woo-fucking-who. Let's celebrate now."

"Yeah," K said, "I've been thinking about that. Maybe I should just deploy from here."

It was like a punch in my stomach.

"What?"

"Since you have a support system here."

"What do you mean? How could you do that?" I know that there's always a good chance that K will deploy again. I tell myself that I expect it, but it will never lessen the blow. But he's not attached to a unit that would deploy. I thought we were in the clear for the next year or so.

"Well, I could volunteer to go so I can guarantee that I go to [training K is hoping for next summer] afterward."

I sure as hell didn't see that coming. "When were you thinking about this?"

"Just the other day."

"Well, I don't think this is a good time to talk about it. But we're definitely going to have to have a conversation later." It was 2 a.m. We had just turned onto our street, heading toward our house, where four guests were asleep inside. Plus, the sudden dropping of the "d-word" had quickly magnified the effects of my beer and a half and shot at the bar.

"Every time there's a deployment, I feel like we're tempting fate. Whether it's you, or friends ..."

"Every time we get behind the wheel of a car, we're tempting fate," K said.

"Yeah, but driving isn't the same as being in a combat zone."

I've often wondered what it must be like to be married to someone without having to worry about deployments or even lengthy field exercises. I told K this as we climbed into bed. "There's always something else," he said. Thinking logically. Like short business trips or office retreats can be compared to months spent apart while he's in combat.

Even though in a way it was just normal work talk to him -- and not even anything coming down in the form of orders or official plans -- I still feel rattled today. I got through the previous deployments, but K's Iraq deployment was the toughest and longest 14 months of my life.

And as much as I try to tell myself I know another one will come, it sure feels a lot different to actually talk about when it could happen.