by M. L. Rice
Riley nodded remembering her decent audition at Texas State a few hours ago. “Yeah, that went better than expected.”
“Why so mopey about it, then?”
She shook her head. “Not now. Too nervous.”
An older music student poked her head out of the rehearsal room door. “Riley Gordon on cello?”
Riley took a steadying breath and stood up, paper rustling loudly as she set the sheet music for the required Bach and concerto movements down on the chair behind her. She was used to learning music quickly and playing from memory, but this time it seemed like her whole life depended on the perfect remembrance of every note, every crescendo, and every bow movement. Never had so much been riding on her innate talent and good ear.
“Hey!” Aidan called after her. She turned around and saw him leaning back nonchalantly with his arm draped across the back of the couch. He radiated faith and confidence. “You kick ass.”
Riley blushed as she turned back around and found the young woman who had called her name smiling back at her.
“Relax,” she said. “You’ll do great.”
“Has everyone today done great?” Riley couldn’t hide the quaver in her voice.
“No, but I’m sure you will. I can usually tell.” She winked in a friendly way that Riley assumed was meant to reassure, but she was still more jittery than she had ever been in her life.
“Well, no time like the present, huh?” Riley stood up straighter and pretended to have confidence as she walked through the second set of soundproof doors the young woman held open for her.
*
Riley hadn’t said much after the audition was over, but Aidan had insisted that they take a student-led tour of the campus while they were there. As they had walked around the forty acres listening to the chipper young blond woman pointing out places like the “Six Pack,” the Tower, and the West Mall, Aidan had made comments like “You’ll probably study in the sun over there” or “Look at all of the student group tables on the West Mall. You should definitely join some. Make friends. Just make sure that your schoolwork comes first, though.” His assurance that she would be accepted was absolute. Now, as they drove back to Whitehill, she could see Aidan glancing surreptitiously at her, probably trying to gauge her emotions. Finally, when they had been driving in silence for at least an hour he said, “Okay, seriously. How did you do?”
Riley shrugged and Aidan looked from her back to the road.
“Don’t worry if you messed up. Everyone does. And you sounded great at Texas State. It’s okay if you don’t get in to UT. I don’t want you to be bummed about it. Whatever happens happens.”
Sighing, Riley shook her head and looked down at her hands. “It was perfect, Aidan.”
Confused, he glanced at her again. “What was perfect?”
“I was perfect. I played better than I’ve ever played anything. Ever. I was…perfect.”
Aidan’s face lit up and he removed his hand from the wheel to slap her proudly on the knee. “Rock! Why the look of doom and gloom, then?”
Riley didn’t know how to put the fear, anxiety, and doubt she was feeling into words, so she said simply, “What if my best isn’t good enough?”
Aidan sat quietly for a while before answering. “You may not think so, but I do understand some of what you’re going through. My entire senior year was spent working out, practicing, and trying to prove to myself that I was going to be good enough to get a football scholarship. Turns out I wasn’t.”
“That wasn’t your fault, though, Aidan. You got injured. I don’t have an excuse if I don’t make it.”
“Well, from what I could hear, you’re a shoo-in for pretty much any college you want. Why are you suddenly so stuck on UT?”
Sighing, she said, “Well, now that you’re going to be based God knows where with the Marines, I don’t really want to go to Texas State or any other college. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I know that getting a scholarship anywhere will be a blessing for someone in my position, but we’ve spent our whole lives living small. Our town is small. Our home is small. Our family is small.” She gestured between them. “Our opportunities are small. I want something bigger now. Austin is bigger. UT is bigger. I mean, you’re doing something really big and amazing with your life. And me? I’m actually kind of…”
When she paused and looked out the window pensively, Aidan encouraged her. “You’re kind of what?”
Riley turned her eyes back to his. “I’m kind of jealous of you.”
He chuckled. “And you think moving to Austin is the answer?”
“I fell in love with Austin the moment I set foot in it. It’s where I’m meant to be. If I don’t get accepted to the music program, I’ll…I dunno.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s talk about something else. I won’t know for a long time anyway.”
“Okay.” He drove in silence for a few miles before commenting, “That girl that escorted people into the room was pretty hot. Maybe I should have applied to go to Texas too.” He grinned.
“Jesus, Aidan. Do you ever think about anything except boobs?”
With no delay whatsoever, he replied, “Nope.”
Riley smiled at his predictability.
“I tell ya what. Let’s drive into San Antonio before we go home. It’ll take you to the Riverwalk for a celebratory dinner.”
Riley brightened considerably. She had only gotten to go to the Riverwalk twice in her life. Once when her junior high class went on a field trip to the Alamo and a few other Spanish missions in the area, and the other for a friend’s birthday dinner when she was a sophomore in high school. “That sounds brilliant, but we shouldn’t be celebrating anything. I won’t know if I got accepted for another four months.”
“We’re celebrating you getting all of the applications done and your hard work on your performances. Riley, you’ve really kicked some serious ass these last few years. One dinner at the Riverwalk is nowhere near what you deserve.”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
“Nugget?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let what I’m about to say go to your head, but I’m so proud of you it feels like my brain is going to explode into a huge gooey, bloody mess. No matter what happens.”
Riley turned her head to look and him and saw that he was positively beaming.
“Descriptive. And thank you.” She stopped talking as her voice caught in her throat.
*
“I’ll call you as soon as I get there, okay?”
Riley nodded, trying to hold back her tears.
“It’s a short, scripted phone call, but at least you’ll know I’m safe. After that, I’ll send snail mail with the address you can use to send me letters.”
Riley just nodded again and looked at her feet. They were standing in the parking lot of a Days Inn near the San Antonio airport. Aidan and several other Marine recruits were to stay there that night and a bus would pick them up before dawn the next morning to take them through the MEPS process and then onto a plane to the recruit depot in San Diego. Riley now had her driver’s license and had driven Aidan to what would be the start of his new path. Her heart was heavy, and she trembled with the fear of being on her own for the first time in her life.
“And anyway, it’s only thirteen weeks until I get ten days’ leave!”
Riley snorted. “Aidan, it will be the beginning of April. You’re missing the last half of my senior year. What if I need you? For advice? Or something?”
“Just send me a letter. I’ll always be here for you. You know that.”
“You’re going to miss my graduation when you’re at the Infantry School thing.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry about that one. Really. But I’ll get to see you before you go to college.”
“If I go to college.” Riley was pouting and letting her frustrations get to her.
Aidan lightly popped her on the back of her head. “Shut up with that bullshit. Seriously.”
“I’m sorry. I
’m just…I’m scared that nothing will work out.”
Aidan sighed and pulled her into a hug. She was engulfed in his arms, and her head rested on his strong chest. It was the closest thing she could get to a hug from a father. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you. Whether I’m in Iraq or in the next room. Don’t worry about what will happen. Just do your best, do what’s good, and you’ll know that you’re doing the right thing.”
Riley couldn’t help the tears that slid down her cheeks. “I love you, Aidan.”
“I love you too, Nugget.”
*
Riley stacked the new letter she received that afternoon neatly on top of the others that Aidan had sent her from boot camp. He only had one week of training left before he would be considered a Marine and would be able to take leave to visit her. She smiled as she remembered the phone call she’d received during her English class when he had arrived at the San Diego base. She hadn’t cared that she let her phone ring during school. The device hadn’t left her side since she had dropped Aidan off at that motel. Luckily, her teacher had a daughter in the Army and understood Riley’s nervousness in regard to her brother’s enlistment.
She had answered almost frantically when an unknown number came up on the phone as the class was discussing Dostoevsky. “Hello? Aidan?”
Even though he was yelling, he had been barely audible over the other chaotic voices in the background. He was reading a script, just as he had said he would have to do.
“This is Recruit Gordon. I have arrived safely at MCRD San Diego. Please do not send any food or bulky items to me in the mail. I will contact you in three to five days by postcard with my new address. Thank you for your support. Good-bye for now.” The line had gone dead with a sickening click, but at least Riley knew that he had made it safely to his destination. She was still envious that he was getting to go out of the state of Texas for the first time in his life, but knew that he wouldn’t get to enjoy what California had to offer while he was in training.
She pulled the oldest dated letter from the pile. She often read through them in chronological order when she felt alone and irritated, when her classmates had mistreated her, or when she felt like she was a failure. His words, regardless of their brevity or his unhappiness, always made her feel like he was still near, continuing to protect her, to listen to her, and to be her only connection to family.
Today hadn’t been a good day. Other kids in school, the few who were going to college, that is, had already started receiving their acceptance letters. Riley hadn’t received a single one yet. The people that were supposedly her friends had spent the entire day goading her about it; teasing that she would have to stay there with them in the pit that was their suburb. They just loved to tear her down. It seemed like they were afraid that Riley thought she was better than them. The truth was that Riley knew she was better than them, but not for the reasons they believed. It wasn’t because she was an amazing cellist. It wasn’t because she had straight A’s. It was simply because she treated them well despite the poor way they often treated her. She was a nicer person, despite the constant simmer of anger beneath the surface. It sure as hell didn’t make her life easier or happier, but she refused to stoop to their level. She turned her attention from her brooding back to Aidan’s first letter from boot camp. She read:
Dear Annoying Little Sister (I kid because I love),
Well, Week 1 is over and done with, and we’re about halfway into week two. The first few days were spent in processing, and even though I’ve watched the videos on YouTube and read about what to expect in boot camp, nothing can prepare you for what it’s really like. I’ve never felt so insignificant and generic in all my life. I’m just one of many here. Actually, it’s hard to even write the word “I.” Here we’re all “recruit.” “These recruits” this, “This recruit” that. This recruit wants to punch his drill sergeant square in his pompous, loud face, but doesn’t want to spend the rest of this recruit’s life in the brig.
They strip away our individuality as easily as they stripped away our civilian clothes and hair. You know how much I loved my hair. It’s okay, though. Turns out I still look incredibly dashing with a shaved head. Kind of badass, really. At least I know that if I lose my hair when I get older I’ll still be irresistible. It’s just not possible for me to look ugly.
Hey, I could see you roll your eyes from here. You know it’s true, though. Speaking of, how are the lovely ladies of Whitehill? Is there some kind of mass-mourning going on without me there? Guess they’ll all have to settle for lesser men.
There goes that eye roll again. Girl, you have to learn to control that.
Anyway, for the first few days, we didn’t get any sleep at all and then had to do a physical fitness test. I passed with flying colors, of course, but damn, I’m tired. This is the first night since our main drill instructors have taken over that I’ve had a chance to sit and relax. Of course, you can never truly relax here. I hear the D.I.s screaming in my head even when I get the little bit of sleep they allow for us.
We’ve finally started the real boot camp phase. You know, the stuff you see in movies. We get up at the ass-crack of dawn and exercise. We run, we do push-ups, God, so many damn push-ups, we run some more. The chow is pretty good, though. Most of the guys complain about it and want some good ol’-fashioned home cooking or even fast food, but since you and I never had real home cooking, it all tastes the same to me—although I wouldn’t complain if they gave us a pizza and beer every now and then. God, I want a beer.
We’ve also started the classroom training. Bet you didn’t know that I’d be going back to school, huh? They’re teaching us about basic military etiquette, ranks, uniforms, the culture and history of the Marines, etc. That isn’t a door, it’s a hatch. That’s not a bathroom, it’s the head. We do serve with the Navy, you know. Everything is nautical. Kind of cool really. The Marines have an awesome history.
We have to memorize everything. And I do mean everything. The D.I. has been in my face more than I can stand asking me to recite the 11 General Orders for him. I have to say it perfectly or I push. Of course, if I look at the D.I. when I’m not supposed to, I push. If I fall out of step in drill, I push. If I take longer than ten seconds to take a piss, I push. If I do everything 100% correctly and think that I’ve finally done something well, I push. My arms are so damn sore. The football training and mechanic work still didn’t prepare my body for this shit.
That’s about all I can write for now. I can’t keep my eyes open. I just wanted to send you a letter to let you know how “this recruit” is doing. I’ll try to write at least once a week. Please don’t send any care packages because the D.I.s will just confiscate the stuff anyway, but I’d sure like to hear from you. I’m making some really good buddies here, but there’s nothing like a letter from family to remind us of what we have outside of this hellhole.
Do well in school and know that your kick-ass big brother loves you,
Aidan
Riley folded the letter and placed it neatly back in its envelope. She pulled out the next one. This one was much shorter.
Dear Riley,
Well, I’m in Week 3. Same ol’ shit except now we’ve added in the hand-to-hand combat training and bayonet stuff. That’s actually kind of fun, but the D.I.s just don’t let up. I’m so frickin’ sick of getting screamed at all the time. I know what they’re doing. I know they have to break us down to build us back up, and at the same time they’re getting us used to the stresses of war, but that doesn’t make it any easier to take.
The thing that actually bothers me more than anything is how offensive the D.I.s can be. You and I grew up in the Home with all sorts of different kinds of kids. I mean, truthfully, we were the minority there, you know? And these D.I.s, man, they insult every kind of person imaginable. It doesn’t matter if the D.I. is white, black, Hispanic, Asian, or covered in polka dots. They’re all absolutely perfect so they can tear down everyone else. I’ve been called a
useless fag, a little girl, white trash. Don’t even get me started on the way they talk about women. I have to wonder how they train the female recruits over at Parris Island. This is the stuff they don’t show as much in the movies. If you go on YouTube and watch videos about what it’s like, they won’t show you really bad stuff—the bigoted stuff and the threats of physical violence. The only acceptable thing about it is that it is actually completely fair. No one is left out. Equal opportunity bigotry, I guess.
Would you believe that we even have a gay recruit in our platoon? Most of the guys here are surprisingly okay with the gay thing as long as it’s not rubbed in their faces. There are a few judgmental assholes, of course, but they’re just assholes in general. It doesn’t matter to the D.I.s that he’s gay, though. To them we’re all fags, women, pieces of shit. And this guy (his name is Craig, btw) is actually one of the best recruits here. He’s way into the Marine culture. His mom is a Marine. His dad is a Navy chief. Both of his grandfathers were Marines. And his maternal grandmother was even a SPAR in the Coast Guard back during WWII. This guy lives and breathes the military. It makes me feel kind of lame for just joining on a whim. The halfway intelligent guys in our platoon all look up to him as a leader. The idiots can’t see past the gay thing. Oh well. Their loss. He’s my closest buddy here, so if they don’t like it they can go to hell.
Anyway, sorry to sound all pissed off. This is just harder than I thought it would be. I do want to thank you for your letter, though. It was so good getting to hear from you. I’m sorry that those bitches in your class are getting you down. You are so much better than them. In all ways. And don’t worry. They’ll change their tune when I walk up in my uniform. They won’t mess with you after that!
Take care of yourself!
Aidan
The next letter in the pile was the shortest she had received.
Dear Riley,
What in the hell have I done? This is only my fourth week, and I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Thirteen weeks? Are you shitting me? This is the most hellish place imaginable. I’m so sick of being told what to do and when to do it for every goddamned second of my life. I’m going crazy. The Marine Corps can kiss this recruit’s ass. The only things that are keeping me on the right side of sanity are you and my buddies. Craig, Rafael, and Lamar are my best friends here, and without them I probably would have washed out by now. I’d do anything for those guys.
