“Um. Hi.” I give a little wave.
This seems to pass approval, because Luke goes back to coloring while Broussard gives me a kiss on the cheek. “You look beautiful.” He whispers at my ear before returning to the stove.
Once there he commands, “Sit down, Ryan. We’re having pancakes.”
“Um. Ok.” I sit.
My brain cells don’t really function in the morning. Or at least, they take a good cup of coffee and twenty minutes to kick into gear.
“There’s a boy in my class named Ryan,” the little human says to me.
“Yea?” I return in my ever-loquacious morning-speak.
“He says dinosaurs are stupid and wipes boogers on his desk.”
“Ugh...that’s terrible?” It comes out as a question.
Thankfully, Luke is adept at carrying on conversations, and picks right up without noticing my hesitation.
“Yea, Everyone knows dinosaurs are awesome!”
He lifts his paper up to show me a half-colored dinosaur.
I nod and Broussard places a cup of coffee into my hands.
I take a deep sniff of the brew and feel my synapses start firing.
“Do you have any cream or sugar?” I ask Broussard.
“I got milk. Will that work?” I nod yes, while he places it on the table by my hand.
I pour some in my cup and take a sip.
“What do you get when you cross a dinosaur and a firecracker?” I ask Luke.
“What?”
“Dyno-mite.”
Broussard’s chuckles. Luke giggles.
“What kind of Dinosaur is a cop?” Luke asks me.
“Hmm. I don’t know, what kind?”
“A tricera-cops!”
We laugh at his joke. Broussard sets a pile of pancakes down in the center of the table and we dig in.
“Do you know anymore, Ms. Ryan?”
“Oh. You can just call me Ryan. I think that’s the only dinosaur joke I have.”
Luke finishes his pancakes and jumps down from his seat.
He places his finished picture under the only refrigerator magnet and says,
“Dad, can Ryan come fly the kite and build sand castles with us today?”
Broussard looks at me, “Well, Luke, that’s entirely up to her.”
They both look at me again with mirrored expressions.
“Oh. Uh. I actually have to get back to the condo and pick up my stuff. I have a flight out later this afternoon.” I tell them.
Luke breaks the silence first with, “That’s sad. We are gonna get a dinosaur kite, aren’t we Dad?”
“Yep. A dinosaur kite. Go get dressed and get your shoes on so we can go and pick it up.”
Luke races across the empty living room and up the stairs to one of the far bedrooms.
I stand up and put my coffee cup in the sink.
I turn back to where Broussard is still seated at the table.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” he says. And we both know he is referring to the fact that he didn’t tell me he had a kid.
I shrug and tell him, “It’s ok.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “No, no it’s not. I want to have a relationship with you, Ryan. And that starts with being open.”
I didn’t really hear anything after his “I want to have a relationship with you, Ryan.” My heart beat has accelerated, butterflies in my stomach.
“A relationship? With me?” I ask him.
“Well yea. I thought…” He stands and looks out the window, “...I thought that was what you wanted also.”
His jaw muscle is clenched, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
Is a relationship what I want? I’m flummoxed.
“Honestly, Broussard, I’m not sure what’s possible between us. I didn’t really analyze my actions in coming here…”
I trail off hoping the truth will soothe his temper.
He turns from the window and runs a hand through his hair while looking down at the floor.
“What reason could you possibly have for going home to California now? I see you Ryan. I see a hurting depressed woman. You’re fucking lost and not going to admit it.”
I’m speechless at his words. Nobody has been so brutally honest with me before.
He grabs me by the back of the arms.
“You’ve lost weight, you’ve got bags beneath your eyes, and dramatically changing hairstyles left and right. Don’t think I don’t know too, that you’re skipping out on the required rehab -both physical and mental.”
I pull away from him. Annoyed and weirdly pleased he’s concerned about me.
“Jesus fuck. Who are you? And who the fuck have you been talking to?”
His eyes are studying me, his face a mask of flat fury.
His words hurt, but he doesn’t stop.
“You want to go home and be some NFL dude’s wife? That’s fine. Fucking perfect. Go live that life. But I know you Ryan…”
He stops abruptly. Closes his eyes on a sigh.
“Just hang out with us, with me, a few days. I know you love the beach. It’ll be chill. No worries.”
There’s hope in his voice, and I find that the thought of hanging out with him, doing silly things like building sand castles and lying about the beach does sound appealing.
And he’s right about Devereaux. That isn’t my life, which is why I gave him up those three weeks ago.
There’s just one tiny human blocking me from giving in.
“What about Luke?” I ask him.
His face relaxes a bit in question, but it doesn’t ease the nerves circling in my chest.
“It’s just kids…” I wave my hand in the air trying to explain the overwhelming panic that sets in when I’m around them.
He must sense my anxiety and pulls my hand into his own, while bringing his arm up behind me to pull me against his chest in a hug.
“It’ll be fine, Luke’s great. You’ll see.” He says into the air above my head.
45
That afternoon found me sated from the best picnic lunch and relaxed under an umbrella, watching Broussard explain the finer points of flying a T-Rex kite to Luke. I ignored the irony that he picked a T-Rex kite. I was committed to doing what Broussard had said, chilling. Plus I just feel too exhausted to fight anything anymore, Broussard included. It is just easier to lay on the beach towel under the shade of the sun umbrella.
Or is this happiness? Content in Broussard’s presence because his capability and responsibility make it so I can just follow his orders like a good soldier.
I am not sure the reasoning, but something inside my chest has loosened. The weight of sadness I’ve been carrying from the one-two punch of forced retirement and T’s death seems to lighten just a little.
Broussard hands off the kite to Luke, who immediately takes off running.
I smile a bit at his exuberance.
Broussard plops down on the beach towel next to mine, but keeps his eyes trained on his son.
“That little turd just wears me out. Or, I’m getting old.” He laughs out.
It’s refreshing to see him smiling and happy, even though I didn't put it there, it lifts the sad weight a bit more. Or it could be hormones reacting to his stupid handsome face. I’m not sure.
“Tell me about him, Broussard. How’d you get him?”
He laughs at that. “The old-fashioned way, Ryan.”
I blush a bit.
He laughs some more and says, “God Ryan, how can you still blush after all the shit you’ve seen?”
“Ugh...Just tell me about Luke.” I say to change the subject.
“Well, it’s not a long story. My first marriage didn’t last the length of my first deployment. Typical story- married after high school, I went to basic, she went to college. On my first deployment she couldn’t stand the loneliness and cheated. So, the second time around I made sure to pick a good one.”
He pauses and my heart jumps with jealousy. Seems he still ha
s a fondness for her.
“Miranda is a nurse. Works in the ER, I met her through a bar pickup. We dated two years and got married. Everything was good. Well, as good as a marriage can be during multiple deployments. And when I was home, she wanted to start a family. And I agreed. While we were trying and amid deployments we just realized that we were better friends than lovers. Or hell, maybe it was the stress or the lonelines. But Miranda decided she didn’t want to be a soldier's wife anymore. I can’t fault her. She gave it to me truthfully. She sent me divorce papers along with Luke’s pre-school pictures.”
“Shit,” is all I can think to say.
He gives a half grin at my response, but doesn’t take his eyes off Luke running back towards us.
“Yea, it fucked up my head a bit.”
We are quiet for a moment, the spell broken only when Luke comes up to us.
“Dad. Tie up the kite so we can build the sandcastle.”
They may have done this before, because soon Broussard has the kite sailing merrily behind us, having staked the lead string into the ground while Luke digs in the sand.
He starts up a conversation with me. He is the most eloquent six year old I’ve ever met.
“You like sand castles, Ms. Ryan? First we build the moat.”
He demonstrates for me, finishing with, “... then the walls, then the circle building.”
“The tower,” Broussard fills in for him, coming back with a bucket of seawater for the building of the castle.
Broussard shapes sand with his hands and says, “Tell me about the C.I.A. Ryan. How that led to the Playboy shoot.”
It's an order. I watch him square up a wall with his hands.
“It’s not a terribly long story.” I tell him.
“I’m listening.”
We both watch Luke take the bucket to the surf for another fill up.
“When I got home, it started simple enough. Calls, letters, emails asking to set up interviews – that sort of thing.”
He nods his head.
“Seems easy enough to avoid.”
I agree with him, “Yea, those things are easy enough to ignore. But the personal visits. And the damn near stalking when I went out. Those were annoying as shit.”
Luke is carrying an bucket of water back to us, his body leaning to one side as he struggles with the weight.
Broussard doesn’t get up to help, but just tells him, “Good job, buddy,” when he gets close enough.
They mix a bit of the water with sand in another pail to form a second tower.
“I’m still listening.” Broussard starts the conversation back up.
“Uh-huh, well. I just decided it was time to take back some control. Get the monkey off my back so-to-speak. And if there is one thing the C.I.A finds undesirable, it’s notoriety.”
Broussard
I watch Ryan fill a bucket with a sand and water mixture and tip it over to make a corner of the castle.
For the most part she is quiet, just listening to Luke talk.
I slap myself mentally for feeling contentment at the picture they make together- a mother and son happily playing in the sand. That’s not the reality, Broussard. Pull your head out of your ass. She may only be here a few days.
Which is why exactly I need to savor this moment. Go all in.
I playfully tap Ryan on the ass when she gets up to get another bucket of seawater.
“Tag, you’re it.” I tell her.
She narrows her eyes at me and drops the bucket, casually walking back to Luke who is watching us.
She taps him on the head and sprints backwards yelling, “Now you’re it!” to Luke.
He grins and runs after her.
She circles back around to me, and Luke sets his eyes on a new target, maybe easier he thinks, as I am just laying in the sand. I let him tag me.
Then I lazily stand up, eyeing my target. She’s standing just ten feet away, merriment in her eyes, poised to run.
I start, and she takes off. I catch her before too long, and throw her over my shoulder. Luke who has followed us in excitement bounces along in the sand.
“What should we do with this troublemaker, Luke?” I ask him.
He laughs at us but comes up with a suitable punishment.
“Throw her in the water!”
“No! No!” she laughingly yells from her perch on my shoulder. She is half-heartedly struggling now.
Luke starts running circles around me as I trek to the surf.
I get thigh deep and drop her in.
She comes up laughing and sputtering. Splashing me and Luke both. It’s a beautiful sight.
46
Ryan
“Pew! Pew! Lieutenant Luke, get Agent Evil!”
I fire my nerf gun from behind the corner wall at the standing action figure of “Agent Evil.”
I’m deliberately missing so Luke, standing at the opposite corner wall, can shoot him down with his own nerf gun.
We are on maybe the third set of this. I grab the extra nerf gun I have at my side, and when Luke runs out of ammo, I slide it on the floor down to him.
“I’ll get him, Captain Ryan!” he shouts at me, coming out from his position to get closer to the action figure.
The doorbell rings and it’s such a strange sound to my ears. The mundaneness of it breaking into our action packed afternoon drama.
Eric comes in from the deck and says to Luke, “That’ll be your mom, Luke. Do you need help gathering up your stuff?”
Eric is halfway to the door now, and I am broken out of my stillness- sliding the storm trooper helmet off my head.
“Awww Dad. Can we kill Agent Evil one more time?”
He laughs, shakes his head no and looks to me for backup.
I start picking up the spent nerf ammo just as Eric pulls open the door.
“Miranda, so good to see you; Come in.”
I stand up and take in the wildly and hugely pregnant woman that steps into the foyer.
She smiles at me and steps down into the living room, arms outstretched.
“You must be Ryan.”
She engulfs me in a hug- her perfume cloud light and sweet. I helplessly look over her shoulder at Eric.
He’s got a half bewildered, half happy look on his face.
Her belly is huge between us, rigid and weird.
Eric shrugs his shoulders as if to say, I don’t know, just go with it.
“Yeah. That’s me. Ryan,” I tell her patting her shoulder.
She pulls away and must see the look on my face, “Oh! I’m sorry. It’s just that Eric has told me so much about you. And I just get carried away sometimes these days.”
She waves her hand in the air as if to dismiss any awkwardness and turns back to Eric asking, “Babe, can I use your bathroom? I have to pee.”
Eric doesn’t even blink at her term of endearment, instead ushering her into the downstairs guest bathroom, a hand at her back.
She comes back out, a whirl of happy, glowing motherliness in a floral dress. Uneasiness settles in my gut as I watch her and Eric from the doorway as he loads Luke in the back of her car, giving him one more hug. Luke waves to me from the backseat as Eric shuts Miranda’s door for her.
I feel disenchanted. Detached from the scene in front of me. The love of this family shines out from their eyes. I am a stranger in their midst.
Broussard
Seeing Miranda off, I’m sure I couldn’t have asked for a better ex.
She tells me from where she is sitting in the driver’s seat, “Oops. I’m sorry Eric, I think I scared Ryan a bit.”
She fiddles with the air conditioner vent, pointing it directly at her face so it blows her hair off her shoulder.
“Nah,” I tell her, “it’s fine. Ryan’s just...Ryan.” I shrug my shoulder.
“Stupid man,” she chuckles, “I hope she sticks around, seems like she’s a good fit for you.”
She puts the car in gear and backs out of the drive.
I give her
and Luke one last wave.
I climb the steps to the front door contemplating the ways I might be able to seduce Ryan into bed. The past few days has been all about innocent fun, chilling on the beach, the torture of seeing her laying about in her bikini, keeping me in a state of near arousal.
The chill air of the air conditioner beats back the humidity as I step inside. Hard to believe it’s October. It’s damn near silent as a tomb. I always get the same immediate feeling of missing Luke whenever he leaves. I chop it up to the sound level dropping twenty decibels.
I don’t see Ryan on the deck, in the kitchen or living room, so the most obvious place she can be is upstairs in the bedroom. I climb the back loft steps, and hear the shuffling of her moving about.
She’s got her bag on the bed, and is throwing clothes in.
My stomach drops at the same time I become immediately pissed off. Why is she leaving?
“What the fuck, Ryan?”
She folds a pair of jeans and places them on top of her bag.
Looks up at me, and I can’t read what’s behind her gray eyes.
“Eric,” she starts, “I’m going back to California.”
“No you’re not.” I state flat out.
“Why? What’s here for me? Huh?”
She picks up another shirt and folds it.
“ME!” I yell at her, then realize my anger is the direct result of my fear of losing her, seeing her slip through my fingers. I drop my voice and calmly tell her, “I’m here for you.”
She looks at me sadness in her eyes. Sits down on the edge of the bed and puts her head in her hands.
I cross over and kneel in front of her. Taking her hands away from her face, I’m near shocked by the tears in her eyes.
“Stop punishing yourself for their deaths, Everly. You are not to blame. I’m not to blame. It’s shit luck, and bad guys. But our time to live is here. We owe it to them to live the best life we can. It’s what they fought and died for. It’s what we fought for.”
She pulls her hands out of mine.
“What do you know about it, huh? Your life...It’s so fucking easy for you. You have…”
She trails off without completing her sentence and falls back on the bed, throwing her arms over her face.
The Distance Between Dreams Page 17
