by Lizzy Ford
“We’ll be there.” With the entire town present, the event will be too large for him to pay personal attention to Todd and me. My goal is for us to get lost in the crowd, a skill I’ve honed pretty well.
“You made my day.”
I eye him, suspecting he’s messing with me.
Petr appears genuine.
We look at each other long enough for heat to creep into my face. Snatching his plate, I return to the counter. I’m half expecting him to ask me on a date, which would make me freak out for sure, but he doesn’t. He leaves with a friendly smile.
I watch him, doubting Eileen’s assertion once more. There’s no reason for him to like me, and he’s direct enough in other areas that if he did, he’d surely make it known.
I was never really good with men, as evidenced by the psycho who’s been stalking me for four years.
As much as I hate to admit it, I’m kind of looking forward to tomorrow. Not for the food or the crowds but to see if I can glimpse a little into Petr’s life. I’m curious about him, about what makes him seem like the kind of guy I should’ve dated instead of The Monster I chose.
Part of me also wants to see if he behaves in a similar fashion around other women. Is he concerned about the brothers of every woman he meets or just mine? I have to think that if he’s a recruiter, too, he’s probably involved in a lot with youth activities.
Thinking about him confuses me, though I’m pretty certain Todd will be happy tonight when I tell him the news about both.
Chapter Nine: Petr
Claudia’s lukewarm acceptance of the invitation to the Thanksgiving feast and to take Todd to karate manages to bolster my spirits throughout the rest of the day, which can only be described as chaotic.
I spend most of it at the community center¸ working with Bev, an army of caterers and other staff members in a flurry of uncoordinated activity to ready the center for tomorrow.
My preference for order and disciplined action is challenged among the civilians. Rather than stirring the pot, though, I help out where I can and support Bev’s attempts at organizing the different groups managing separate tasks.
It’s midnight before I arrive home, exhausted. My upper thigh aches from the extended time on my feet, and I drop onto my couch and begin to rub it. Sometimes, the muscles bunch up and cause inflammation and irritation with the prosthetic. A quick massage and a few pills help, and an hour later, I’m flipping channels on the television.
It dawns on me that I haven’t checked my messages all day. I retrieve my cell from the nightstand. There are a couple texts from Brianna, a long one from my sister, reminders from Bev and a note from Todd. I open his first.
OMG thank you thank you thank you!! I’ll see you tomorrow.
I’d nearly forgotten about today’s exchange with his sister. Her gaze had grown clouded when I asked about her unexpected change of heart then flat out devastated when I mentioned Todd was troubled.
Whatever is haunting both of them, I can’t help wanting to know more. At the very least, I think Todd’s new hobby will help him. Maybe it’ll be enough to take some of the strain off of Claudia, too. If she’s less worried about her brother, it’s possible she’ll loosen up around me a little and instead of bringing me coffee, we can go out together for a cup.
Then again, I’m not entirely certain I’m ready for that opportunity to materialize, but I am interested in her, more so than I think is normal for a near stranger.
I check Bev’s cheerful reminders, read Katya’s text-novel and then move to Brianna’s. More from her about wanting to give our on-off relationship a new try, that she’s going away on business but in January will ask me again, and so on.
Replacing the cell, I can’t help but compare the two women. One I need to let go of and one I can’t wrap my mind around.
My only determination: I have a penchant for difficult women, and I’m fairly certain it’s not a good thing.
My leg is sorer than usual the next morning and my limp more pronounced. I arrive to the community center around six to find Bev’s staff already busy working. The whole building smells of food: turkey, pies and baked goods. Brunch food items are being shuttled into the main auditorium. The center opens up at nine with the feast lasting until eight at night. Brunch runs until the official turkey dinner begins at one.
Throughout the center, there are games for school-aged kids, babysitting for parents who need a break, a video and gaming center, a movie room, bingo and cards for the older crowd, a 5K run at noon and plenty of other activities people can enjoy between trips to the buffet throughout the day.
I check the maps Bev’s had printed. She really doesn’t need anyone involved unless it’s to provide another set of hands. I wander through the autumn themed activity rooms, admire the twelve foot chocolate turkey, and check out the set up for the dining hall.
Everything is perfect. Busy and noisy … but perfect.
By the time it opens, I’ve managed to eat a small Thanksgiving meal under the auspices of testing out the food. There’s a crowd out front, and Bev’s staff issues different colors of wristbands for everyone arriving to identify those over twenty one, those with kids in the daycare, and so on. The center is soon thrumming with activity.
“This is going to be a good year,” my father says, arriving with the crowd. He beams as he looks around. “Where is Beverly?”
Looking around, I spot her near the hallway leading to the kitchens then point her out. Baba moves away to talk to her, and I make my rounds to greet people I know and meet new ones.
From the moment the doors open, my father and I are on our feet talking to people. Most of the kids know me from school visits, and their parents are always curious to meet the one-legged soldier their kids no doubt told them about. Teachers and business owners ask me to stop by and talk to their students or staff, while the service members seek me out to talk about the military and old war vets share war stories. The air of the event is cheerful and the food in steady supply.
By noon, it’s packed. Baba takes a break around one with a table full of women his age on a field trip from their senior center. Surrounded by the fawning women, he’s pretty content to stay put for a while.
Entertained, I snap pics to send Katya and grab a plate full of food to take a break. The moment I sit down, Todd appears, shyly holding hands with a cute little girl in a ponytail. He slides onto the bench across from me. He’s grinning. It pleases me to see him happy after our rather awkward introduction about two weeks ago.
Following a quick introduction of the girl with him, he seems ready to fall into silence, albeit a chipper one.
“You ready for your first class Monday?” I ask between bites. Any dining etiquette my mother taught me was thrown at the window in the military, where a spoon is referred to as a shovel and time for eating is often limited to ten minutes or less. It doesn’t take a soldier long to put two and two together.
“Yeah.” Todd smiles. “I don’t know how you did it. She’s so stubborn.”
“Wasn’t me. Totally her decision.”
“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes.
I wink at him. “Glad you could make it. Is your sister here, too?”
“She’ll be by soon. Laundry day. I barely escaped.” Todd grins.
“Go get some food,” I say with a laugh.
He leaves with Maya, and I watch the adorable couple awkwardly join the masses plucking food from the buffet style banquet spread. Todd is truly happy, and it lifts my spirits to see it. The instinct warning me that I’ve never learned the source of their issue wants me to ask Todd about it, since he’s more likely to cooperate. But I know better than to upset him or worse, to provoke the motherly instinct of a woman who appears unforgiving if crossed.
I finish up and start to make my rounds when I run into Brianna.
“Hey. Glad you’re here!” I say cheerfully and give her a quick hug.
“Thanks.” She offers a smile. “Gets busier every year.”
“Ju
st the way Baba likes it.” I motion to the tables of food. “Grab some grub!”
She glances towards the buffet, uninterested. “I thought we could talk.”
I’d rather say no, but today is supposed to be a holiday, one about appreciating our blessings and the people in our lives. The least I can do is listen. “Sure. Let’s talk.”
She leads me away from the crowds to the hallway marked for staff members only. Employees from the catering company are bustling to and from the dining area with stainless steel bins, deep bowls and fresh plates and utensils. We make way for them more than once before passing the kitchens into the relatively quiet section of the hallway.
Brianna has always been the ideal beauty to me with light brown hair and gorgeous eyes. She’s smart, sharp and attractive. The only real problem we’ve ever had, aside from the cheating issue, was that she’s always resented my family for being wealthy. It’s not something I can help, and I definitely don’t flaunt it. Her family isn’t hurting, so I’ve never really understood why she sees us the way she does.
Katya received the brunt of Brianna’s anger in school. I always racked it up to typical high school rivalry that somehow followed both girls into their early twenties. Katya was a partyer before my incident and never driven towards personal accomplishment the way Brianna was. It’s what drew me to Brianna initially – she’s always determined to succeed no matter what.
The bad blood between my sister and her got worse when Brianna and I became an item. At that point, I think it was a case of them becoming territorial. Katya has never wanted any woman near me, despite the fact I’m a few years older than she is. Add that to the already brittle relationship she had with Brianna, and to this day, I catch hell from my sister if I even mention seeing Brianna in town.
Then there was the near proposal, the cheating, the constant deployments … Katya regularly reminds me that Brianna didn’t visit me in the hospital once after the incident that took my leg and avoided Mikael’s funeral. It’s almost understandable. While my family does a lot for the community, we’re also very private. Sawyer came to Mikael’s funeral with about two dozen others.
I’m not quite sure why I’m thinking of Mikael right now. Whenever I see Brianna, I’m reminded of him. It might be another reason why I don’t want to let her go. However twisted the relationships were at one point, Mikael did care for her, too.
“I’m headed to New York for a job interview,” she says, more cheerful than I’ve seen her in a while. “It’s for a huge ad agency.”
“You’ll get it,” I reply. “No doubt.”
She smiles. “It’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Things between us have been a little strange lately. I’m not quite sure there’s even an us.”
“I’m not sure either,” I admit. “Sometimes I think we’re trying to hang onto what was and not looking at what we are now.”
“Maybe. Anyway, I wanted to be open about the job. And … I wanted to ask whether you’d be interested in going to New York with me if I get it … or if we need time apart or …” She searches my gaze.
“I’d never discourage you from following your dream job, Bri,” I reply. “I’ve always admired how motivated and smart you are. You deserve whatever you want in this life.”
She smiles, relaxing.
“I also think we should play it by ear,” I add diplomatically. “I’ve got to do at least two years more here before I can request a transfer.”
“You could get out,” she reminds me. “You have the open offer to leave when you want.”
I do, but I’ve never considered it. “You know I won’t leave until they boot me out.”
“Not even to come with me to New York? It’s not like you need a job, Petr.”
“I don’t, but what I do makes me happy.” I shrug. “I’m close to Baba, involved in the community, and serving my country.”
She nods. I don’t know that she really understands, and her next question confirms that she doesn’t. “Can you at least consider it, if I take the job?”
Wherever our relationship is, this is important to her. I’m not sure how to tell her there’s no way I’m moving, but I also think that right now, until she has the job, it’s a moot point. “Let’s just wait and see what happens,” I say again gently. “From what you’ve told me before, these interview processes can take a few weeks, right?”
She nods half-heartedly. “They want to have a candidate chosen by Christmas.”
“You might go and find out you’re allergic to skyscrapers or something,” I joke.
“Yeah. Maybe. What does that mean for now? We’re a couple until I get a new job?”
“I don’t know that we’ve been a couple in the strict sense.”
“Why? Because we haven’t slept together in a few months?”
“Partially.”
“This hasn’t been easy on me either, Petr.”
There’s no safe answer, so I remain quiet.
“We were together, broke up, almost engaged … then Mikael didn’t come back from Iraq and you came back …” She stops.
“Broken,” I supply.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way, Petr.”
What other way is there to take it? We tried getting intimate this past summer, and she sort of freaked out about my leg. In fact, she sobbed more than I did losing it. It was then my suspicion about why she stayed with me was confirmed.
She feels guilty. Before Mikael and I went out on the mission that ended in an ambush, Brianna had broken the news to me she was seeing someone else. I had intended to return home after the mission and propose. She found out, probably from an infuriated Katya. Mikael didn’t come home, and I was out of it for months afterwards.
I imagine Brianna did go through a lot. I just wish I’d been allowed to be apart of it or better yet, that she’d made some effort not to be quite as self-possessed as usual. One trip to the hospital during the four months I was there, a card, not breaking down when she saw my leg, something. I don’t think it’s too much to ask.
I’ll never tell her so. I forgive more easily than Katya, and I want Brianna to be happy, whatever form that takes. I can read between the lines: she can’t deal with my leg, whether from her own sense of guilt or the fact I’m not a whole man anymore. I’m hurting from her admission, but I’m honorable enough that I don’t want her to be.
“It’s a holiday,” I say, forcing on a cheerful display of bravado while my insides twist. “You’ve got an incredible opportunity at your feet. We’ll talk about New York when it happens, okay? In the meantime, let’s get some food.”
“Okay,” she says and offers a small smile. “I’m surprised you aren’t carrying around pies today.”
“I’ve had my fill.” I pat my rock hard abs.
We make our way back to the dining area. I’m almost grateful when a staff member intercepts me. She’s near tears and squeaks out he emergency: the chocolate chip cookies have nearly been depleted.
I apologize to Brianna with a smile. She moves on, and I become the cookie hero of the day by calling my father’s assistant, Zach, and tasking him to find more cookies immediately. Promising the tearful staff member she’ll have cookies within the hour, I try not to laugh at the civilian crisis as I walk away.
I don’t try to find Brianna again. I’m happier than I should be for her to be headed to New York. She doesn’t try to find me, either. I’m not surprised when I receive a text from her about an hour later.
Sorry, Petr, but I can’t do this. Either we’re together or we’re not. I’m going to assume not, at least for now. I don’t want to go to New York with the expectation you’re coming with me (assuming I get the job) when I know it’s not true.
I retreat to the relative solitude of the restroom to read her note again and consider the best way to respond. In the end, simple wins out.
Sorry to hear that, but I understand. You’ll do awesome. Good luck on the interview. I tap send and lower the phone.
I thought I
’d be relieved about what seems like a break up. I kind of don’t, though. If anything, I feel more like a failure, someone who couldn’t patch things up with the woman I’d been with off and on for several years. If someone I grew up with and dated can’t get over my leg, who can?
Aware I need my head straight to deal with any more crises, I tuck the phone away and leave my moment of peace to tackle the crowds outside.
I spot Claudia this time when I wander through the people. The sight of her makes my stomach feel like the down side of a roller coaster and my body fevered. I can’t look away once I see her and make my way towards her.
She’s adorable this afternoon, wearing black leggings and a long sweater-tunic that reaches mid thigh. Her straight hair is loose around her shoulders and shimmers like blonde silk while her subdued makeup is nonetheless charming. When not in her waitress uniform, she’s even more beautiful with her delicate, elfin features and large eyes.
I don’t realize I’m staring at her until she notices me and lifts an eyebrow. Blinking out of my stupor, I close the distance between us and offer my hand. She slides her cool, soft palm into mine, and we shake.
“Glad you could make it,” I say, gazing down at her. She smells like flower lotion today instead of French fries.
“You, too,” she responds. Pink creeps into her cheeks. “I mean … whatever. It’s your party. I guess you have to be here.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear nervously. She notices we’re still holding hands before I do and tugs loose.
“Someone’s gotta keep the pies coming,” I reply with a smile. “Can I show you around?”
“Sure.” She crosses her arms and gazes around as if uncomfortable with the crowd.
I take her to see her brother first and then around the buffet tables. She seems most interested in the cookies and grabs two as we pass. We walk through the recreational and activity areas, pause to observe a basketball game among kids seven and under, and then take up a seat in the bingo hall, the quietest part of the community center.
“This is amazing,” she says and sinks into the seat beside me. Her warmth and scent wash over me, and I shiver, unusually attracted to the sweet-stubborn combination she is. “And you do this every year?”
