Worth Saving

by W. S. Greer

  Well, it looks like I’m going to be eating alone, because I’m just too hungry to get up and leave without getting some food in my belly. So, I make sure to be as gentle and polite as I can when I wave the waiter back over to the table. I smile big and bright and try to make up for how rude I came off earlier. I’m not a bitch.

  “Hi,” I begin, drawing out the word and smiling. “I’m sorry about before, I didn’t mean to come off so rude. Turns out, my friend actually can’t make it after all, so I’d like to go ahead and place my order, if that’s okay.”

  The large waiter—whose nametag reads Brian—whips out his pen and pad and looks ready to go. He also looks relieved that I didn’t snap on him. I proceed to order a bacon cheeseburger with extra cheese, and a little pink in the middle, and just the sound of it makes my stomach rumble. Brian takes it down and then turns on his heel to go put it in.

  As Brian walks away, I hear the door to the restaurant being opened, followed by the sound of lots of men’s voices. They’re loud and laughing like they’re watching Kevin Hart doing standup, and I instinctively look over to see who’s making all the noise. They’re blocked off by a little statue next to the entrance, so I can’t really see them, but I get my first look when the hostess takes them over to their table. There’s six of them, all wearing military uniforms that I’m pretty sure are Air Force. The hostess leads them right past me, and every one of them gives me a little glance that I don’t like, so I’m already feeling really defensive when one of them sits down in the chair across from me. I look over at him, ready to ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but then I realize that I recognize him. It’s Austin.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes with a big smile on his face. His uniform looks really good on him and seems to bring out those blue eyes of his. His face is clean shaven and his hair is cut a little shorter than before, but he still looks really good. Really good.

  I play off the fact that he’s too damn attractive for his own good, and I give him the weakest smile I can.

  “Pretty surprised to see you, too,” I reply. “You’re all dressed up. Just get off work?”

  He lets out a little chuckle. “This is not dressed up. This is just work clothes, and yes, we just got off. Just finished completely in-processing with the base. So, how have you been? Been a few days since I last saw you.”

  “I’ve been fine. Just working. Living my life and all that stuff.”

  “Were you expecting someone?”

  “I was,” I answer truthfully. “But she had to cancel, so I’m just eating by myself now.”

  “Alone? Nobody should have to eat at Red Robin alone.”

  “What? I’m sure people eat at Red Robin alone all the time.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not supposed to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s Red Robin, and that’s the rules.”

  “I’ve never heard of these rules,” I giggle.

  “See, that’s it right there. I actually have read the rules, and they clearly state that you’re not supposed to eat here alone. It’s company policy. So, it’s almost like I have to eat with you now.”

  I scrunch my forehead and stifle a giggle at the same time.

  “Is that okay with you?” Austin asks, tilting his head to the side, trying to be cute. Succeeding.

  “Ugh. Since you went out of your way to make up that ridiculous story, I guess so. But what about your friends you came with?”

  “They’re big boys. They’ll be fine without me,” he replies, then he signals for Brian to come back to the table, and talks to him like they’ve been friends forever. “What’s up, Brian? I’ll have whatever she’s having, including whatever that drink is. Looks like a Sprite, so let’s roll with that. Cool? Cool. Alright, thanks, bud. Good talk.”

  When Brian nods and walks away, I have to laugh.

  “Do you two know each other,” I ask with a smile.

  “Nah, I just read his nametag. Why?”

  “Never mind,” I say, shaking my head.

  “So, Layla, how’s work treating ya’?”

  “Same as it always does,” I reply, trying not to really think about the details of my job. “Last night was good, though. Nice and quiet.”

  “Yeah? Well, that’s good. Now that I’m completely in-processed, I’m free and clear of work for a long while. I get to just go out and enjoy some time off. Maybe I’ll cruise around and go absolutely nowhere. Maybe I’ll drive to Texas. Maybe I’ll walk to Florida. Layla, I have so much time on my hands, I don’t even know what to do with it all. I mean, holy shit balls.”

  I fight back a smile. “Lucky you.”

  “No doubt,” he chirps back.

  Brian brings our food over to the table and drops off Austin’s Sprite. Everything looks great, and my stomach is roaring in approval and impatience.

  “Wow, this looks awesome, Brian,” Austin says with a smile that’s too big to be natural. Brian tells us to let him know if we need anything else, then he leaves us.

  There’s silence for a while as we both dig in. I’m so hungry and everything tastes so good that I almost forget Austin is there for a while. We glance at each other from time to time, which makes me feel awkward, but we don’t say much. We just eat.

  Austin scarfs down his food at twice the speed I do, and sucks his Sprite down to the bottom before I can get halfway done with mine.

  “Do all military men eat that fast?” I ask, between chews.

  “Yeah, it’s kind of branded into you at the academy. You had to eat fast or you didn’t have time to eat at all. That stuff stays stuck in your mind. I thought for a second that Brian was gonna come back over here and take my plate away before I was done, so I had to get it down before he had the chance.”

  I giggle to myself.

  “Brian is over there helping out that other table. I think you were safe,” I joke.

  “Hey, you never know. It’s the big muscle-y ones you have to look out for. They’re squirrelly.”

  I accidently let out a laugh that I quickly try to pull back in.

  “Do you do that on purpose?” Austin asks as he pushes his plate to the center of the table, already done.

  “Do I do what on purpose?”

  “Try to keep yourself from laughing?”

  Shit, he’s on to me.

  “Umm, I don’t know. I guess so . . . I don’t know,” I say, the words coming out mumbled and confused.

  “Do you hate laughter?”

  I pinch my lips together to keep from laughing again. “I don’t hate laughter.”

  “I figured not,” he continues. “So, I’m just wondering why you keep trying to keep yourself from smiling or laughing.”

  “I don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression, I guess,” I answer in the most honest way I can.

  “For me to get the wrong impression? What impression is that, by the way?”

  I let out a sigh.

  “Look, smiling and laughing can be misleading, and I don’t like to lead people on. It’s just best to keep people at a distance.”

  “Wow,” he exclaims, raising his eyebrows. “That must be really lonely.”

  “Yeah, well at least that way I know nobody is being set up to get hurt in the long run.”

  “I see. So, is that your way of protecting other people, or your way of protecting yourself?”

  “Maybe a little bit of both,” I admit.

  “Interesting. Very interesting. So, what do you like to do for fun, Layla?” he asks, moving right past what I just said like he didn’t even hear it.

  “What do I like to do for fun?” I repeat, shocked by the question after what I just said. “Umm, wow. I, uhh, I don’t really know. I’m usually pretty busy with work.”

  “Come on, everybody has something they like to do.”

  “Okay. I like to draw, even though I’m not very good at it. I used to like to play sports, but I don’t get the opportunity to do it much anymore.”

  “What’s
your favorite sport?”

  “I like basketball.”

  “Pro or college?”

  “Pro.”

  “What’s your favorite team?”

  “The Bulls.”

  “Who’s your favorite player?”

  “Derrick Rose.”

  “Isn’t he always hurt?”

  “Hey,” I snip. “He’s been a little banged up, but he’s back now, so you better watch what you say about Derrick. That’s my crush, right there.”

  “Oh, my bad. Didn’t mean to offend,” he jokes, putting his hands up.

  “Mm-hmm. So, what about you?”

  “I like football. I’m from Seattle, so I love the Seahawks.”

  “I see. I’m not a huge football fan, but if I was, I’d like the Bears.”

  Austin gasps. “What? Just when I was starting to think we could be friends.”

  “Still trying to be my friend, huh?” I say behind a giggle.

  “Of course. I mean, I just happened to run into you today at freakin’ Red Robin. Isn’t it obvious we were meant to be . . . friends?”

  I struggle to fight back another smile and shake my head. Austin is nothing if not persistent, I have to give him that. Nonetheless, this is the kind of thing I can’t get myself into. I wave my hand and signal for Brian to come back. He saunters over.

  “Hi, can I get the check, please?” I say, still trying to make up for how I hurt his feelings earlier.

  Brian walks off to go fetch the check just as Austin’s friends start to stand up, grabbing their things like they’re getting ready to leave.

  “Welp, looks like my ride is about to leave me,” he says as he stands up. “I’ve gotta go chase down Brian so I can pay my bill, but it was nice seeing you again, Layla.”

  “You too,” I reply with a closed-mouth smile. I watch him as he walks away towards Brian, then he meets up with his group as the six of them head out the door. A few minutes later, Brian is back at my table with my receipt.

  “Your bill has been taken care of, ma’am,” he says, handing the paper to me.

  “What? Who . . .” I start to say.

  “Your friend paid for you,” Brian says with a smile. “Have a nice day.”

  I take the receipt and lay it on the table. I can’t believe he paid my bill and then just walked out like nothing happened. Sneaky.

  A smile tugs at my lips, but before I let myself smile over a guy I just met, I think better and shrug it off. I let out a sigh, pick up my stuff and walk out the restaurant, still having to fight the urge to smile.

  Austin

  “So how long you been with her?”

  “Umm, about seven months. I met her while I was in the academy.”

  “Well, that’s cool, Lieutenant,” I say as calmly as I can. The look on this guy’s face tells me he’s nervous as hell. Exactly the kind of thing I don’t need right now. This isn’t the time or place for babysitting, but it’s in my best interest to make sure this newbie doesn’t lose his cool before we get there. It’s his first time out.

  “How about you, Captain?” he asks. I look down next to the controls and see his knee is bouncing rapidly like he’s trying to burp a baby.

  “Nah, none of that for me. Been off and on a little, but definitely more off than on. I don’t do serious. I just try to get mine and be on my way. Haven’t been in a rush for anything serious because I’m always out here doing this. I try to stay focused, because if you’re not focused, you make mistakes, and I can’t have that. Got too much at stake for distractions.”

  “I hear you there. The last thing you’d want is for me to get shot in the stomach and to die right there in the back because you weren’t paying attention. Too fucking distracted. Not fucking paying attention, Austin.”

  I scrunch my forehead in confusion. Where the hell did that come from?

  “What’d you say?” I inquire, searching his face for answers.

  “Hmm?”

  “Just now, what’d you just say?”

  “Oh, I said, so how long you been doing this?” he replies, and then he looks out the window, down at the clouds below us.

  Is that what he really said? I try to think if that’s what I actually heard, but I can’t remember, so I let it go.

  “Umm, well, I joined when I was eighteen and got commissioned earlier than most, and I started flying these missions when I was twenty, so it’s been three years now.” I say as I adjust my headset.

  “Three years, wow. Are you ever afraid?”

  I adjust the headset again, and look out the window. I heard a popping sound on the headset, so I know a transmission is about to come in.

  “Don’t really have time for fear up here, Lieutenant. When things happen, they happen too fast for you to really be afraid. Fear can get you killed out here,” I say as I look over at the lieutenant, but when I look over, he’s not there anymore. His battle gear is sitting in the seat in his place.

  Suddenly, I hear a loud roaring sound coming from the back. I have to turn around in my seat so I can see, but the sight of Lieutenant Weston standing in front of the door he just opened is still startling to me. He’s standing there holding his 9mm pistol at his side, and he’s staring down at the clouds with a lifeless look on his face.

  “Hey, what the hell are you doing, Lieutenant?” I yell. “Get back in your seat, we’re about to descend. Sit down!”

  “Am I supposed to be wearing my battle armor right now?” he asks, staring down at his chest, still clutching the pistol.

  “Yes, you need to put your gear on. Come on, man, stop fucking around.”

  “Oh, okay,” he responds, but he doesn’t stop there. “Hey, but what happens when I do this?”

  Suddenly, Lieutenant Weston aims the pistol at his chest and pulls the trigger. The shot rocks his body backwards, but he stays on his feet. He stares down at the wound as blood pours out of it and pools on the floor beneath him.

  “Oh my fucking god!” I scream, but I still have to grip the controls tight to keep us in the air. “What the fuck, Lieutenant? Oh my god. Hang in there, man. I’m gonna get you some help. I have to call this in.”

  “There’s no point!” Weston yells. He screams it so hard the veins in his neck look like they’re going to explode. “Why call it in? It’s too late for you to save me! You had your chance and you fucking blew it! You blew it!”

  The next thing I know, Weston grips the pistol and brings it to his chest once again. He pulls the trigger, but this time he doesn’t stop shooting. He just keeps on firing, over and over again. Each shot jolting his body and splashing blood everywhere. The sound of the continuous shooting is all I can hear now. It’s too loud for me to hear anything else.

  Boom!

  Boom!

  Boom!

  I put my hands on my ears and squeeze my eyes shut. The sound from the gun is so loud, I’m sure I’ll go deaf soon. I squeeze me eyes shut so hard it starts to hurt. Then, suddenly, everything stops.

  There’s no sound at all. There’s nothing but the wind. I hear it, and I feel it on my face and hands. It’s calm. It’s peaceful. So, I slowly open my eyes.

  I open them just in time to see that the helicopter is plummeting to the ground because I let go of the controls, and the engines are all off. There’s no time to pull it back up.

  The ground is fast approaching, and all I can do is hold on. With every second, the ground grows nearer, but just before impact, I see Lieutenant Weston’s body on the ground beneath me. He’s lying there, covered in his own blood as if he fell out of the helicopter, and I’m about to land on him. The chopper is going to land right on his body, and just as it does, his corpse opens his eyes and screams. The sound of his screaming is the last thing I hear as the helicopter hits the ground and explodes into a giant fireball.

  “Fuck!” I yell as I jolt awake and sit up in my bed. My heart is beating so hard I’m sure I’m about to have a heart attack. I try to focus so I can catch my breath, and I look around the room to make
sure I’m nowhere near a helicopter. When I realize I’m at home, I breathe a loud sigh of relief.

  Another dream. Another sleepless night. They’re starting to pile up on me now, and I wonder if they’ll ever slow down or stop. The last thing I want is to be one of these people who goes to war as one person, but when they come back, they’re someone completely different. I want to keep being me, but what I saw over there is making it hard. Every day is a struggle, but the night is especially difficult. Maybe it’s because it all happened at night. It was night time when I saw Weston lying there bleeding out as we flew back to base, so maybe that’s why I feel tortured when the sun goes down. All I can do is hope this counseling with Major Nelson actually does me some good. So far though, no dice.

  I look over at the clock and see it’s two-thirty in the morning. My heart’s still pounding and I know there’s no way I’ll be able to go back to sleep now. I’ve tried before. There’s even been nights where I managed to go back to sleep, only to have another terrifying dream about Lieutenant Weston. At this point, I’ve dreamt so many nightmares about him, he’s become my boogieman. The image of his face in my mind actually frightens me now, and I have to focus to make sure I don’t think about it. In the end, it never matters. His face still haunts my dreams, and it’s for that reason I don’t even try to go back to sleep. It’s only two-thirty, but I’m up now.

  I climb out of bed and throw on some clothes. No need for anything fancy, just a wife-beater and some navy blue basketball shorts. I don’t even bother putting on shoes. I just slip on some flip flops and make my way into the garage. I start up my car and proceed to drive to nowhere.

  It’s a weekday, so the streets are pretty empty, and they’ll stay that way as long as I avoid going near The Strip. So, I decide to keep this ride centered in Summerlin. It’s a beautiful place, very well-kept and clean. Something about it soothes me as I drive with the windows down and the night air hitting me in the face. It’s cold outside, but I don’t care. I woke up in a sweat, so I could use some cold air now to bring my body temperature back down.