I ignore it as best I can, but warning bells are going off. I ignore those, too. Nothings going on, right? I mean, Im about to ship out in a week, for Christs sake. She would wait till Im gone to start anything, right?
I go to the gym three days before my plane leaves Des Moines. Im only there for about half an hour before I feel something in my shoulder pull and decide to call it a day. Usually Im at the gym for an hour or two, which how it’s been since high school.
The gym is a couple miles away from Lanis apartment, and I walk the distance, huddled in a thick coat and sweatpants, feeling the wind bite through the cotton to freeze the sweat on my legs. As I approach the apartment complex, my heart begins to hammer in my chest. Theres no reason for it, but its a feeling Ive learned to recognize. Its foreboding. Premonition, maybe. A gut feeling. Ive learned to recognize these feelings and trust them. Something is wrong. I dont feel the prickling of my skin, the crawling of my flesh and the cold sweat of fear, so I dont think its a danger situation, but something is off.
I approach Lanis front door and slip in, silently. The hinges dont squeak, and the knob doesnt scrape. My footfalls are stealthy on the carpet. I dont know why Im doing this. Im in a tactical crouch, and my hands are clutched in front of me automatically, as if Im holding a rifle. Its habit, reflex. Every sense is attuned.
I shrug out of my coat and drape it across a chair back. My skin tightens with apprehension. Is Lani hurt? I dont smell blood. I smell. . . sweat? Bodies. I smell sex.
Then I hear it: a sigh, gentle, brief, and female. Its a sound I know all too well. Its the sound Lani makes when she comes. She doesnt scream or cry out; she clutches me close, arms around my neck, and sighs—almost a whimper—into my ear. I can almost feel her arms, hear the sigh, but Im not in that bedroom. She’s not making that sound for me. I wait, crouched outside her door and listen, just to make sure Im not mistaken. Maybe shes pleasuring herself. I dont like that idea much more, since why would she need to do that if she has me? But. . . no. I hear him. A deeper sigh. A grunt. Murmured words, her laugh, a male moan.
She’s having sex, and it’s not me.
Fuck.
Anger ripples through me, turning my sight red, making my hands shake. I breathe, hard and deep and fast. I wait, force my blood to slow, force my hands to unfist. I cant afford mistakes. I cant afford to lose my temper. Ive been too careful about it for too long to mess up now. Juvie was bad enough. Im not going to jail. Im not going to get court-martialed.
When Im as calm as I can get under the circumstances, I fling open the bedroom door. There she is. Naked and beautiful, underneath Douglas Pearson. Doug. Skinny little Doug, nerdy, introverted, acne-scarred, works at an insurance agency Doug motherfucking Pearson.
I resist the urge to throw him out the first-story window.
"Get the f**k out, Doug. " My voice is a whisper. Calm and deadly. "Get the f**k out, now. Ill be gone in a minute, and you can have her back. I just need to talk to her. "
Doug scrambles off the bed and dresses in record time. He stops in front of me, his eyes wide with terror, his nostrils flaring, reeking of fear. But he stops in front of me and faces me. I give him credit for having some balls. "You wont. . . you wont hurt her? If youre going to hurt someone, hurt me. "
I laugh. Its not an amused sound. "Dont tempt me, pencil-dick. No. Im not going to hurt anyone. Except you if you dont get the f**k out of my face. "
He gets out. Lani clutches the bed sheet around her chest, as if I havent seen her naked a million times before. As if we didnt lose our virginity together at fifteen. As if I didnt have a ring in my duffel bag. That act, the shielding herself from my view, tells me all I need to know.
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"Three days, Lani. Three goddamn days. You couldnt wait three motherfucking days?" I turn away from her and talk to the door. Im too pissed to trust myself facing her. "I dont get it. If you didnt want me, why the f**k didnt you tell me? I mean, f**k. "
"Stop saying that word, Hunter. I dont like it. "
I whirl. "Fuck you, Lani. Im a goddamn Marine. Ive got a dirty f**king mouth, and Im pissed off. You cheated on me. " I force myself to take two long steps across the room away from her. "I’ve never asked. I come back, and I dont ask you any questions. Im gone for a long time, and I’ve never asked what you do while Im gone. But. . . while Im here, I kind of expected you to be faithful. Is that too much to ask?"
Lani doesnt answer.
"How long?" I ask. "How long has this been going on with that little prick?"
"Dont talk about Doug like that, Hunter. Hes a good man. He—"
"I didnt ask about him. I dont care. How. . . long. " It doesnt come out as a question.
"I first started seeing him about two months after you left the last time. " She lowers her eyes away from mine.
Thats a full year. More.
Shes ashamed, and she should be.
"And youve been going behind me with him all the time Ive been back?"
She nods, a tiny jerk of her chin.
"Fuck. " I want to hit something. My fist balls and I lift it to punch through the wall or the door, but I dont. "Un-fucking-believable, Lani. If you dont love me, have the balls to say so. "
She moves forward off the bed, sheet trailing behind her, clutched to her chest. "Its not that I dont love you, Hunter. I do. But. . . Im not in love with you. "
"Whats the difference?"
She reaches for me and I pull away. She lowers her hand. Her vivid blue eyes shimmer. "Theres a huge difference. "
I collapse backward against the wall, anger fading to confusion and hurt. Without the anger to prop me up, Im limp. "Then explain it. "
She pulls clothes from the drawers, glances at me, and hesitates.
"What?" I ask. "Like I havent seen you naked before?"
"Its not that," she says. "Its. . . I dont know. I just feel weird about it. Just turn around and give me a second, okay? Please?"
I turn and stare out the window at the wind-driven drifts of snow. I ignore the rustle of skin and cloth, resist the urge to turn and watch her dress. It will only hurt more.
"Okay," she says. "Im ready. "
I slip out of the room to the kitchen without looking back at her. "I need a drink. "
She follows me. I open a pair of beers and hand her one. She holds it without drinking.
"Hunter, listen. I do care about you. I love you. Ive loved you since the tenth grade. But. . . things change. Youre gone. Youre fighting, and youre not here. Thats really it. Its hard to stay in love with you when youre thousands of miles away for months at a time. I was lonely. Doug was there. I. . . love him, too. Im in love with him. Im so sorry. I cant image how that must hurt to hear, but you deserve the truth. "
"I deserved the truth months ago, Lani. "
She winces. "I know. I feel terrible. Its just. . . hes good to me. He takes care of me. Hes there for me. "
Something dawns on me. "He knew about this? He knew about us? You and me? And he was okay with it?"
She has the decency to look chagrined. "Yeah. I know how that must seem, and he. . . he hated it, but I told him it would only be for a little bit. Just until you left again. "
"How long were you planning on stringing me along?" My beer is gone and I get another. I need it for fortification against the rage.
"I was going to send you a letter. " Her voice is tiny.
"God, really? A Dear John? You were actually gonna send me a real Dear John letter? Fuck, Lani. Thats the cruelest shit you couldve done. Theres nothing worse. " Suddenly that second beer is gone and a third is cracked open.
"Slow down, Hunter. Please. I cant have this conversation with you if youre drunk. "
"Well have this conversation however the f**k I want. You owe me that much. "
On impulse I go get my duffel bag, move around the apartment shoving my things into it, and then rummage until I find the ring. I drop the duffe
l on the floor by the front door, put my coat on, and turn to Lani. I open the ring box and set it on the counter by the front door.
"For your information, I had something Ive been keeping from you, too. I was going to—I loved you, Lani. I was always faithful to you. All the time I was gone, I never hooked up. Never. All the other guys went to the brothels and the bars and shit, and I never did. I waited for you. Because I love you. Because I was in love with you. "
Lani crosses the room to examine the ring. "Damn it, Hunter. Goddamn it. " She never swears. "You arent in love with me. Youre in love with the idea of me. Youve never been with anyone else. Im comfortable for you. Im what you know. Thats it. Thats all it ever was and all it ever will be. "
I hesitate, gathering my voice so it doesnt crack. "Youre all I had, Lani. Now I dont even have that. I have no one else. . . " I look down, stare at my shoes, tighten my control. "Maybe youre right. But if you didnt love me, you shouldve told me. Broken up with me. "
She cries now, slow, quiet tears. "Im sorry. I didnt want to hurt you. I didnt want to have to see you in pain. "
I let her see the agony in my eyes. "Well, you f**ked that up. "
I pick up my duffel bag and walk out, pushing down the emotion until theres nothing left but emptiness. No anger, no hurt. Nothing.
I walk away, my coat buttoned up tight, duffel slung across my back. Its frigid out. Evening. Seven, maybe eight oclock. Full dark. Snow drifts, not really falling, just blown around by the knife-like wind. I dont know where Im going, where Im walking. I cant see much in the dark with the snow stinging my eyes. I dont care. I welcome the pain of the cold right now. It distracts me from my anger.
Im pissed that she cheated on me for so long, pissed that she didnt have the goddamn balls to tell me she didnt love me.
Mainly, Im pissed that shes right. We lost our virginity together, explored our sexuality together. Ive never even dated anyone else. Never kissed or held or f**ked anyone else. Never even considered it. Ive held on to her for so long because shes familiar and comforting. Shes what I have.
Had.
I try not to think about being alone, but its inevitable. Im shuffling down a sidewalk, skeins of snow skirling around my feet as I pass through pools of streetlamp light. And then, suddenly, Im seventeen again. In school. Sitting in trig, doodling instead of paying attention to the lecture since I hate math because its boring and easy. The principal, Mr. Boyd, comes in and announces that hed like to see me outside for a moment. And then tells me to grab my bag. My heart suddenly pounds and my palms sweat and something is wrong, wrong, wrong.
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I hear the words from Mr. Boyd, crackling and static-y and broken up by disbelief: "Car accident. . . killed on impact. . . critical condition. . . ride to the hospital. . . "
I follow numbly through the hallways, backpack hanging from one shoulder. The hospital is quiet, orderlies and nurses bustling past on squeaky sneakers, doctors in lab coats with clipboards and file folders. Im in a room, curtained off. Monitors beep. Antiseptic and cleaners and death and sickness assault my nostrils.
Mom, bruised, broken, bleeding. Dying. A tubes is in her mouth and an oxygen cannula in her nose. Bandages on her head. Someone is pulling me away to explain about internal bleeding, cranial swelling.
"Will she die?" I ask, cutting off the explanation.
A male voice, deep, calm, soothing. I dont look at him. "Its hard to tell. It doesnt look good, though, son. Im sorry. Were doing all we can. "
"My dad?"
Silence.
Another voice, and face, stepping in front of my blank stare. A policeman. "Son, Im sorry, but your father didnt make it. He was killed on impact. " The policeman rests his hand on my shoulder briefly and then drops it. "Is there anyone we can call for you, son?"
A brief spike of rage pulses through me. "Im not your son. Im her son. " I jab my finger at the door. "My name is Hunter. "
The policeman nods. "Sure thing, Hunter. Sorry. Its just a habit, didnt mean anything by it. So, do you have a relative we could call for you?"
I shake my head. "No. Theres no one else. "
The officer seems shocked. "No one at all? No sisters or aunts or grandparents?"
I choke down the urge to punch his face. "No, ass**le. Thats what no one means. My grandparents are all dead. Im an only child. "
"Watch it, son. "
"You watch it, Officer. Im about to be an orphan. I think Im allowed to be upset. "
He relents. "Youre right. Im sorry. So where are you going to go?"
I shrug. "My girlfriends parents might be able to help. I dont know. "
Im shaken out of the memory and back into the present by a car skidding to a stop in the road next to me. Its Doug, talking through the rolled-down window of his sensible Mercury four-door sedan. "Hunter, look, I know you dont want to see me, of all people, but let me drop off you somewhere. Its below zero out here and dropping fast, man. Youll get hypothermia. "
I ignore him and keep walking. He pulls the car over and jumps out, the car facing away from me, door open, lights on to illuminate a swath of thickly falling snow.
"Hunter, dude, listen—"
I try to keep walking past him, but he keeps pace and steps in front of me. Big f**king mistake. I stop, glare for about three heartbeats while I wait for him to move, then jerk my fist from my coat pocket and swing. I connect with his jaw and send him flying. Hes just a little guy, no meat, no muscle, no experience with fights. He crumples hard. I step over to him to make sure hes not seriously hurt. Hes not, just stunned unconscious. He wakes immediately to see me standing over him, fists clenched. He scrambles away.
"Hunter, please, listen. I was just—"
I move away. "Fuck off. I dont want a ride. If I see you again, Ill break your skinny f**king neck. "
He stumbles to his car, clutching his jaw, and drives off. The heat of anger keeps me warm for a while. I finally remember my cell phone.
It rings six times before Derek picks up, out of breath. "Dude, whats up? Im. . . unnhh. . . goddamn Maggie!. . . Im busy. " I hear a woman moaning in the background.
"Sorry, bro. Listen, I caught Lani in bed with Doug Pearson. I need you to pick me up. Its f**king cold out here. "
I hear Dereks breath catch and he stifles a groan, and the woman gasps softly. Only Derek would stay on the phone during sex.
"Sure thing, man. Be right there. " I hear Maggie’s moaning voice start to get loud just as he hangs up.
I shake my head in bemusement. Derek is a dog. The man gets more pu**y than a cat licking itself. I dont get it, but its his thing. I keep walking, head ducked down, shoulders hunched up in that odd, useless gesture we do when were cold. I make it another half mile or so before Dereks borrowed red F-150 swings around in an illegal U-turn and skids to a stop next to me. Theres a tarp over some construction tools in the bed. I toss my duffel bag under the tarp and get in the truck.
Derek pulls away towards his parents’ house. "So. Bitch be trippin, huh?"
I rub my hands together and hold them in front of the heater vent. "Yeah. Got back from the gym and walked in on them. " I groan and flop my head back on the ripped cloth seat back. "Fuck, man. With Doug Pearson. Doug, of all people. "
"Isnt he, like, an insurance salesman or something?" Derek asks.
"Yeah. Something like that. "
Derek shakes his head. "Fucked up, man. Cheating on a beast like you with a skinny little shit like Doug?"
I scrub my hand over my wet, buzz-cut scalp. "No shit. Dont remind me. "
We went to high school with Doug Pearson. Graduated with him. He was the geek who sat alone in the corner while Derek and I sat a table filled with our lettermen jock buddies. Doug was valedictorian, NHS, school band, all that. And now he sells insurance. Wont ever leave Des Moines, probably.
But he got the girl, didnt he?
Fuck.
"Hey, man, dont sweat it. Shes a ho. Her loss. Now you can get some real hookups goin on. Fuck a real bitch. Lanis always been stuck up. Youre better off. "
I remind myself that he means well.
"I was gonna ask her to marry me, D. " My voice is quiet.
Derek cocks an eyebrow at me, incredulous. "Dude, thank god you didnt. You dont need her. I know youve been with her forever, but that dont make her right for you. I never said anything cause you wouldnt have listened, but I never liked her. Shes hot and all that, but I never got the sense she loved you as much as you loved her. "
I slug Dereks arm hard. "Next time say something, f**ker. "
"Hopefully there wont be a next time. " He grins at me. "Lets go get f**ked up. Ive got a bottle of Johnny with our name on it back at my folks place. "
"Sounds good. " It does sound good, in that moment.
I want nothing more than to forget Lani for a while. It wont change anything or erase the pain, but itll let me forget. I learned the hard way after my parents died that no amount of booze or pot or anything else will take away the pain. I quit trying to bury the hurt and just dealt with it. Good thing Ive got practice, because I can feel the pain spreading cracks through my heart.
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This is going to take some time to heal.
Good thing we ship out soon.
THREE
RANIA
Iraq, 1993
I clutch my stomach and try not to moan. The food and money I got from the soldier lasted me more than two months. Now it is gone, and I am hungry again. Desperation ripples through me.
I hunch against the wall as a troop of uniformed Iraqi soldiers march past. Official government soldiers. Hard-eyed, rough, merciless. I hate them.
My home is gone. A stray bomb or mortar or something. I have nowhere to sleep. Nowhere to go. No one to help me. Hassan is nowhere to be found. I have looked. I do not feel in my heart that he is dead; he has just found a better life for himself.
An idea is percolating in the bottom of my belly. I have ignored it for days. I cannot do it. I will not do it. But my hunger, my thirst, my need to survive, to not give up, this drives me. I wait for dawn and then sneak across the city, looking for a specific building. I find it, eventually. I huddle in an alley across the street, watching, hoping they will be there, hoping they will not be.
Night falls. My stomach growls and rumbles and expands, empty, gnawing at my ribs.
I see him, striding down the street, cigarette tip glowing like a moving orange star through the shadows. My legs are moving before my brain has time to stop me. He sees me coming. His eyes are not unkind, but he still eyes me with the hungry, lustful look that I have come to understand.
"You should not be here, girl. " He sips his cigarette and speaks between puffs of acrid gray. "What do you want?"
"I. . . " Words fail me. "What you gave me, it is gone. I am hungry. "
He frowns. "You made it last all this time? Girl, that wasnt enough to feed a rat for a week. "
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