Revved

by Naomi Niles

  I’d hated everything about the navy. Over time, I adapted. It became my new normal, and I forgot about all the things I missed back home, like chocolate sundaes from the ice cream parlor across the street from my house or the lake we used to go swimming in when we were children. It seemed impossible for those things to exist in the same world as burkas and IEDs.

  I had to experience all the pleasures of home again, not so I could enjoy myself. I was going to do that no matter what. I had to know that they were real and that the desert from my flashbacks was just a fading nightmare. I was leaving it behind — all of it.

  Chapter Four

  Gillian

  I woke up too early to drive to work and too late to go back to sleep, so I grabbed my favorite book and found a quiet booth in the back of the coffee shop. I was hoping to lose myself in the rolling green hills of Scotland, where Ethan, my favorite knight in the series, was jousting for the heart of the woman he’d loved since he was a boy. I read, unable to look away as the lance pierced his armor and sent him flying off his horse into the mud.

  Was he alive? I turned the page. His maiden ran out into the field, crying, and got onto her knees, soiling her bright pink dress, to see whether or not he was alive. He had to be. She loved him, and throughout the entire book she knew it, but she couldn’t say a word. She was too scared. Now that she wasn’t sure whether he was alive or dead, she finally had the courage to tell him how she felt.

  My heart stopped. After hours and hours of anticipation, I was finally going to see what happened. The vibration of my phone shook me out of the story. I whipped it out. “Michael, this’d better be good.”

  “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “It was this book I was reading. Why are you calling so early? Is everything alright?”

  “You won’t believe who’s coming to town.”

  “Santa Claus?”

  “No, stupid. It’s Dwayne. He’s getting out of the navy, and his parents are holding a BBQ tomorrow.”

  “Dwayne? It’s been years. I almost forgot he existed.”

  “Well, he does, and everyone’s been asking about you, Gillian. They all want to see you.”

  “I know. I haven’t been home in almost a year. It’s unreal.”

  “Why don’t you come down? Have some food, drink a little. It’ll be fun.”

  “I guess it would be. Tell Mom and Dad that I’ll see them tomorrow, will you?”

  “Will do.”

  I checked the time. I had to be at the dance studio in less than twenty minutes. I downed my tea, then rushed out the door. The fair maiden would have to wait to see if she got to bed Prince Charming another time.

  Lexie was bent over stretching with her back turned when I walked in. “Hey,” she stood back up. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I know I’m late. I am so sorry.” I set my bag down and started my stretches.

  “No, it’s fine. Class hasn’t started yet. I was a little worried, though. What happened?”

  “I’m so stupid. I was reading, and I spaced when I was at the coffee shop.”

  “Was it any good?”

  “It would’ve been had my brother not called right before the big ending.”

  “Michael?” she asked. “What’d he want?”

  “His best friend Dwayne just got out of the navy, and they’re having a BBQ for him. He wanted to see if I wanted to come along.”

  “Dwayne…” Lexie thought about for a moment. “The one from the track team with that sexy swimmer body?”

  “Yeah… I guess.”

  She had a grin from ear to ear. “He’s the one you were obsessed with ever since freshmen year.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You can lie to everyone else, Gillian, but you can’t lie to me. You used to stay after school to watch the track team every day.”

  “I liked doing my homework on the bleachers.”

  “You sure it wasn’t those tight short shorts they made the boys wear?”

  I blushed. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Uh-huh. You had it bad.”

  “That was a long time ago. I’ve got other things to worry about.”

  She pulled out her phone. “Shoot.”

  “What? Is it time already?”

  “Almost. You should go get changed.”

  I took my time in the bathroom, hoping to clear my head of all the mess running through it. When I came back out, there was a young blonde woman sitting in the lobby, her little girl sitting next to her. She wasn’t like the rest of the moms. There was no cold stare, no designer clothes. This was a real person.

  “Hi,” I beamed.“Can I help you?”

  “We’re here for the dance classes. I know that your program said the class started yesterday, but I was hoping there might be a chance I could get my daughter in late.”

  “I don’t see why not.” I knelt down in front of the girl, whose blonde hair had been tied up in a bun. She was wearing a pink tutu with a matching leotard. “What’s your name?”

  “Beth.”

  “Beth,” I exclaimed, “may I ask how old you are?” She smiled and held up both hands with her fingers outstretched. “Wow, that’s a lot of fingers. You’re older than I am.” The mom laughed. I stood back up. “If you just want to give me a moment so I can speak with Lexie.”

  “Sure,” she said.

  “Great, I’ll be right back.”

  Lexie was stuck in the middle of a torrent of temper tantrums and neurotic mothers, all of them needing immediate attention. I told the mothers that she would be back shortly and that class would be starting soon, allowing her a moment to get out of the snake pit and handle the new girl.

  Once she was ready, we lined the girls up and Lexie strode to the front of the room while I watched from behind to keep an eye on them. Beth was at the back of the line, paying attention to everything except Lexie.

  “Good morning, class.” The kids sounded off. “Today, we’re going to start an exercise routine that we will continue for the rest of the session. In order to perform ballet, you’re going to have to train your body to be flexible and responsive. Stretching is one of the ways that we will loosen things up and make it easier for you to move around.”

  “Ahem,” one of the moms cleared her throat.

  Lexie turned back to glare at her. “Yes?”

  It was Mrs. Regis, the mom who had her daughter attack one of the girls during the last class. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She wasn’t.

  “No, it’s okay. Did you have a question?”

  “Do you think we should be telling the girls about the dangers of not stretching before they work out?”

  “Actually,” Lexie responded, “recent studies show that stretching before a workout doesn’t decrease your risk of injury at all.”

  “I’ve always heard differently,” Mrs. Regis snapped. Some of the other mothers were nodding their heads.

  “It’s an old myth that’s been dispelled after years of research, but I can see why you’d be mistaken.” The mom gave her a smug look, but kept her mouth shut. Lexie turned back to the class. “The first stretch we’re going to do is called the tree. I want all of you to reach up to the sky as far as you can and make sure to keep your roots on the ground.” She pointed at her feet.

  All of the girls reached up to the ceiling.

  “Good job. Now we’re going to reached down and touch our toes.” She bent over to demonstrate, and the girls followed her. Beth looked back at me a little warily and stopped halfway down. I could tell that she was having a little trouble staying focused, and her mother was the only mom that hadn’t stayed for practice, so I walked up beside her.

  “And down,” I said and bent over. She did the same. “Good job, Beth.”

  “Thank you.” She seemed pleased and began following my cues as we moved through the stretches, the poses, then the pliés. The mothers watched me the enti
re time, and once Mrs. Regis turned to the woman sitting next to her and whispered something with her eyes locked on mine.

  After class, when the girls were starting to get their things and leave, she came up to me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Excuse me?” I tried to remain calm.

  “Don’t think I didn’t notice the special treatment you were giving to that little girl. I pay good money for these classes, and I’m not about to sit around and watch you play favorites.”

  “I was encouraging participation, Mrs. Regis.”

  “Don’t give me that crap. I know what you’re doing. You’re singling out the best so you can prop them up. Well, I won’t stand for it. If you want to keep getting my money, you’ll pay the same amount of attention to my girl as you pay to the rest of these brats. You got me?”

  I stepped forward, close enough that she backed up. “You can leave. I don’t want you here. Lexie doesn’t want you here. We were planning on kicking your daughter out the second she stepped out of line anyway. There’s the door.” I pointed back towards the lobby.

  She looked at me, confused at first. She didn’t seem to know what to do, and she certainly hadn’t been expecting me to talk to her the way I did. Finally, her face settled into its natural look of haughty indignation. “You can’t treat me like this. I want my money back.”

  “You paid for the classes she took.”

  “I’ll sue.”

  “Go ahead. Your contract clearly states there are no refunds, and you signed it. Now if there’s nothing else, and trust me, sweetie, there isn’t, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “You couldn’t keep me here.” Her daughter was on the floor a few feet away changing her shoes. Mrs. Regis ducked down and wrenched the girl up, dragging her out of the room.

  “Thank you so much,” Lexie walked out of the lobby. “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get rid of that woman all day.”

  “I’m just glad it was soon rather than later.”

  Chapter Five

  Dwayne

  I closed my eyes and started focusing on the effort it took to breathe, allowing my thoughts to drift outward with each exhale. I saw myself as a little boy, shaking in the back of the school room, where the children had been gathered. I was crying, screaming that I wanted to go home.

  Breathe.

  I focused on the material world – the feeling of the plane seat rubbing against my elbow, the sound of the flight attendant’s cart wheeling past. They seemed far away compared to that dark room where the jihadi in the burka was pulling on my hand, telling me it was time to go home. I didn’t want to go home. I’d be leaving a part of myself behind in that room, but the jihadi was insisting on dragging me out into the light, back into the plane cabin.

  The real world was starting to come back into focus. I took a glance outside my window. Below us, I could see rich strands of green, spreading out across the landscape below. I knew we were getting closer. My body wouldn’t let me forget. My skin was buzzing with electricity, and my breath caught in my throat. I could feel the anxiety pushing through, breaking my resolve.

  I promised myself I wouldn’t do this. Breathe. Go back to the moment.

  It should’ve been enough. Usually it was…but there was no comfort in this moment. I was scared.

  I had left for the navy the second I turned 18. There was no ratty apartment, no fast food job. My adult life began under the watchful eye and care of the United States government. I didn’t have to fend for myself. I had to learn to live with what was given to me and do without the things I couldn’t get. That became my normal, and I was used to it. I hadn’t known anything else for almost a decade.

  Now, I was entering a world I didn’t understand, throwing normal out the window, and I didn’t know what I was going to do. I’d have to learn to live in a world so alien, it was hard to believe that it even existed or that I’d lived in it all.

  It was the freedom that bothered me. I didn’t want to go lax and lose the discipline the navy had given me. I’d seen it before. People left and they started to act out, partying and doing drugs simply because they’d been constrained for so long that they had to do something to get rid of that pent-up energy.

  I felt that energy surging across my skin, pounding my heart like a drum. There was so much I’d missed, so many experiences I’d never had. I felt like a sheltered child who had grown up in a bubble. I was ready to experience the world for the first time.

  I wasn’t going to get any sleep, but I was fully present in the moment, so I looked out the window and watched the landscape pass by below. It was mostly flat, green ridges that grew into mountains, shadowed by the clouds above.

  “This is your captain speaking. We will be landing shortly. Please make sure that your tables are in the upright position and your seatbelts are fastened.”

  I sighed. The flight had been far too short. When we landed, I waited for the other passengers to grab their bags, then reached up into the overhead compartment and slowly made my way through the tunnel towards the gate.

  I didn’t want to just run out. I wanted to delay the moment as long as I could. I didn’t have any direction, any idea of what I was going to do or how I was going to live. I had never planned for anything after the navy. Eventually, I had to reemerge. I couldn’t put it off much longer.

  When I reached the gate, I was bombarded by a flash of black hair and familiar arms wrapping themselves around my neck. “Oh, I love you. I love you. I’m so glad you’re back home.” My mom pulled away to get a look at me. “You should grow your hair out,” she said as she rubbed her hand over my black buzz cut.

  “Mom, I just got back. Can we save the fashion tips for later?”

  “All I’m saying is-”

  An arm wrapped around my neck, nearly cutting on off the airway. I reached my foot back and stomped down without even realizing what I was doing. “Ah, fuck!” I turned around to see my brother Jesse, hopping up and down on one foot, holding the other. His shaggy brown hair was bouncing with him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” my mother asked.

  “Nah, it’s my fault.” Jesse let his foot down. “Shouldn’t be sneaking up on a soldier like that.”

  “Damn, right,” I said. “What are you doing here? I thought you were on your dope trip.”

  “It’s not a dope trip,” he said. “I’m a travelling musician.”

  “And, I’ll bet you smoked quite a bit of dope along the way.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he laughed. “I just wanted to see you get back, honestly. Nobody’s seen you in forever. How are you?”

  “Jetlagged and pissy. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  The mountains, the river, the familiar buildings of downtown Chattanooga... They were all the same as I remembered them, but they still didn’t feel real. I had to get out and experience them, touch them — give them material form just to know that this wasn’t a trick, and that I wasn’t still sitting outside that school wondering how I was going to save those children.

  This was supposed to feel good, like I was getting out of prison or exile. Afghanistan was torture, but this world was even worse. It was too mundane, too simple. My mother and brother kept on talking about nothing in particular, asking me questions. I answered them as best as I could, but I was still lost in thought, drifting back and forth between the Afghani desert and my mother’s luxury sedan.

  When we left the city and quiet settled over us, I relaxed a little. This was familiar. We traveled all the time. The landscape was nicer – and there were no IEDs. “Why are you so quiet?” My mother asked once we’d made it into Gatlinburg.

  “I don’t know. I’m just thinking.”

  “Well stop thinking and have fun,” Jesse said.

  “That’s your motto, not mine,” I countered.

  “It’s a damn good one. It’ll keep you sane.”

  “And high.”

  “Nothing
wrong with that every once in a while.”

  My mother turned into our neighborhood. “I’m sorry your other brothers couldn’t make it, Dwayne.”

  “No, it’s fine. They have lives of their own. Besides, it looks like you’ve got a full house.” I didn’t really want to see everybody in the world. My eyes were drooping and everything was hazy. I wanted to collapse on my old bed and fall asleep.

  Instead, I walked into a crowd of clapping people, many of them already in various stages of inebriation. I was bombarded by long-forgotten faces, familiar names, people I grew up with and laughed with in what seemed like another life. Nobody understood why I was so stoic or quiet, and I didn’t think anyone would understand, so I kept to myself and slumped into a quiet corner in the backyard.

  I was staring down at the grass when I heard a familiar voice say, “You still don’t know how to have fun.”

  I looked up to see Michael, the only person who’d ever come close to understanding me. He was holding two beers. He reached out to hand me one. “I don’t drink.”

  “You should’ve been born in Utah. You’re the perfect Mormon choir boy.” He sat down next to me. “How are you?”

  “Jetlagged and pissy.”

  “Does it feel weird being out?”

  “It doesn’t feel real. I feel like I’m in a completely different world — I am.”

  “You look subdued.”

  “When is this all going to be over?” I asked. “I want to go to bed.”

  “It won’t be long. Jesse brought a bottle of tequila.”

  “He has no shame.”

  “Are you glad to be back?”

  “No… I don’t know. Everyone talks about how great it must be, but that’s been my world since I was a kid.”

  “You got used to it.”

  “Yeah, I did, and I still feel like I left a part of myself back there. I’m not the same man, Michael. It changes you – and not in a good way.”

  “It’ll get easier.”