by Sara Rosett
Okay, she didn’t want to talk about the great outdoors, so I searched for another topic. “What do you do? Are you looking for a job?” Or going to school? She looked like she was about nineteen.
She examined the strap on her sandal and waved her hand vaguely. “I shop.” I revised my opinion of Friona from lonely to aloof. Not an exotic sea creature. More like a bored mermaid. She twisted around, inspected the room. “What’s taking Keith so long? I swear.” She stood and said abruptly, “See you.”
Mitch arrived with two plates and we moved to the tables to sit with Abby and Jeff. They were easy to spot because Jeff’s tall figure topped with red hair cut in a crew cut towered over everyone. I popped the top of my Diet Coke, poured it into the clear plastic cup of ice Mitch had brought back, and took a bite of hamburger. No efforts to be supermodel thin for me. Livvy babbled away in her car seat near my chair, a combination of gurgles and murmuring.
Abby pulled a key out of her pocket and slid it across the table. “I brought a copy of our house key. I locked myself out last week and Jeff had to drive all the way home to let me in. At least he wasn’t on a trip or I’d have had to fork over fifty bucks for a locksmith. Do you mind keeping an extra key for me at your house in case it happens again?”
“No, of course not. In fact, it’s a great idea. I’ll leave one with you, too.” I worked my key off my key ring and gave it to Abby. “I’ll get Mitch’s key before I leave. I’ll be there to let him in.”
Livvy’s gurgles merged into a few gulps. I checked her face. Tomato red. A storm of crying was about to break. I looked at Mitch and he smiled and shook his head. “Right on cue.” He picked her up and walked. I ate fast.
“Hello, everyone,” boomed a man up front. “I’m Colonel Briman. I want to welcome all the new arrivals.” He whipped off his hat and set his flight bags down. He must have come straight from the flight line. “Everyone who has transferred here within the last month, please stand up, stand up. Welcome to Greenly AFB.
“We’re a team here and we want everyone to join in and be right at home. If you need anything, anything, just let me or my wife, Jill, know.” Briman had wiry brown hair, a tan face, and green eyes made greener by the flight suit he wore. There was a round of halfhearted applause and we sat back down. “Now some of you know we have to pick up an additional rotation to the sandbox in December, but I’m going to make it as painless as possible.”
No one made a sound, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop about twenty degrees. The “sandbox,” the deserts of the Middle East and Southwest Asia, are the bane of everyone’s life in the Air Force. It didn’t really matter where, Iraq, Qatar, the UAE, or another small but strategic country. It would be a hot, dry, and lonely time away from home. Mitch had been there last year over Christmas. It was something almost everyone hated, but you didn’t complain, at least not in front of the squadron commander. “We’re glad to have you new folks here and I know we’ll work together and make a great team,” Briman concluded. “Now I’ve got a meeting, but my door is always open to anyone at Team Greenly.” He picked up his flight bags and headed out.
Team concept was big right now. Briman must be brushing up on it, I thought cynically. Then I felt bad. It wasn’t his fault there was a deployment over Christmas. I met Mitch’s dark eyes and he said quietly with a minimal shrug of one shoulder, “I’m low man on the totem pole here.” I sighed. He would be gone over Christmas this year, too.
Diana, a thin woman with straight blond hair cut in an androgynous “little boy” style, slid into a seat, moving with a fluid, catlike grace. I’d met her at the coffee. She hooked her short hair behind her ears and introduced her husband, Brent. His thin blond hair fell across his forehead as he leaned over to shake my hand. “So nice to meet you.” He held my hand in both of his, looked directly into my eyes. Diana and Brent looked like a magazine ad for expensive perfume; both were blue-eyed blonds and attractive. But I realized Brent was handsome in the blond Nordic style while Diana merely made the best of what she had. She compensated for a pointy nose with a short haircut that emphasized her translucent blue eyes. She adjusted her rings to centered positions on her fingers, then cut her hamburger exactly down the middle. With her eyes, pale hair, and fastidious ways, she reminded me of Abby’s Himalayan Persian cat, named Whisk. Brent’s arm bumped mine as he reached for his beer. “Sorry,” he said with a charming smile.
I took Livvy to give Mitch a turn to eat and scanned the room. Gwen, Steven’s wife, paused in the doorway. I’d met her at the coffee, too. She held up a stack of paper cut into small slips. “Tickets for the Christmas party at the Aurora Mansion,” she announced in a sultry voice. “I know it’s still months away, but there’s limited seating, so get yours today.” Sunglasses pushed up on her head held back her shoulder-length wavy brown hair, showing her excellent bone structure. Gwen was a dark-haired Kathleen Turner, complete with the husky voice. But instead of Kathleen Turner’s air of sexiness, Gwen exuded confidence and power. She was in charge and she liked it that way.
She spotted Steven and strode confidently across the room, her silky navy dress fluttering around her legs. I was sure if I checked the latest Tate’s catalog, the upscale women’s boutique she managed, I’d see her stylish dress. She joined Steven and he slipped his hand into hers. I smiled when I thought of Steven. He’d moved boxes and hooked up our washer and dryer for us that first day. They looked mismatched, Steven with his boyish good looks and smooth face and Gwen with her wrinkles around her eyes and her finesse and style. But they looked incredibly happy together.
“Excuse me, El,” Brent said, abbreviating my name. He bumped into my shoulder as he leaned across me to reach for a napkin. I hate it when people shorten my name. I scooted my chair half an inch away as unobtrusively as I could. There was something unidentifiable that made me want to avoid any casual contact with him.
Cass plopped into a chair on my other side. Her hazel eyes fixed on Gwen across the room. She leaned close and dropped her voice: “You aren’t going to believe what I found out about Gwen. It’s just so … not Gwen.”
I didn’t want to know anything about anyone, so I pretended I hadn’t heard her. I wanted to stay out of the squadron gossip, so I asked the table, “Does anyone know a good pediatrician?” Or dry cleaner, or hair stylist, or Mexican restaurant, I added silently to myself. One of the best and worst things about moving is starting from scratch. It’s exhilarating and difficult at the same time. Cass leaned back, but she still had an air of barely suppressed excitement.
Diana brushed a few crumbs off the table and placed her plastic cup of water back exactly in the wet ring it had left on the table. She seemed as finicky as Abby’s cat, Whisk. Her clothes today were as immaculate as they had been at the coffee. No wrinkle marred her cream silk tank top or her red and blue floral tapestry skirt. “We go to the hospital here,” she said.
“Dr. Williams at Family Health is excellent. She’s in family practice,” said Cass. “In fact, I saw her this morning. I’ve had this awful sinus infection.”
A wife down the table offered, “Dr. Henry on Fifth Street is good, too.”
I should write this down, but my hands were full with keeping Livvy balanced and happy.
“Anyone else want another beer?” Jeff asked as he stood up with his plastic cup in his hand.
Abby said, “I’ll take another Snapple.” Jeff unzipped a pocket on his flight suit and pulled out some quarters. A folded, rectangular piece of paper fluttered to the table.
Cass picked it up. “Jeff, here—” She glanced at the writing on it as she held it out. Her posture went from casual to tense and her arm froze, halfway extended. “You’re mixed up in this?” She crushed the paper in a tight grip and pulled her arm back.
I could see the faint gray lines on the paper and the perforated edge along the top. It was a check. Jeff swiped it from her hand, shoved it back into his pocket. “Now, Cass, I know you’ve got some strong opinions, but—”
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br /> “Strong opinions?“ Cass stood up. The chatter around the room died away. “Well, my opinions are right.” Cass gestured at the pocket where the check had disappeared and groped for words. “I-I’m shocked you’d do something like that.”
“Listen, Cass. This is going to be great. If you’ll just calm down and listen—”
Cass’s expression hardened. “I can’t believe what you’re doing. It’s disgusting. Who’s in it with you?”
Jeff’s already ruddy complexion transitioned to fire engine red and his tone went from positive to sarcastic. “Just because you’ve been on TV doesn’t mean you know everything. There’s lots of ways of doing things. There’s other opinions, other options besides yours.”
Despite Jeff’s height and sturdy build, Cass wasn’t intimidated. “Don’t try to change the subject. Who? Who’s in it with you?”
He leaned over the table and opened his mouth to respond, but Abby said, “Jeff.” He glanced around the room and realized everyone was focused on him and Cass. He brushed his hand over his crew cut and blew out a breath. Then he turned and walked away. Abby followed.
“Don’t think you can just walk away,” Cass shouted at his back. “You can’t keep it quiet, keep it hidden. I’ll find out and everyone will know.” Jeff rammed the bar to the outside door and it swung open. He didn’t glance back. Abby caught the door before it closed and slipped outside.
Cass shoved her chair out of the way and stalked out of the room into the hallway. In the silence that followed her departure, I could hear her stomp up the stairs.
Conversation rolled into the quiet like water flowing into a dry gulley after a sudden storm. I raised my eyebrow and turned to Mitch. “What was that about?” I’d never seen Jeff that angry. In fact, I realized, I’d never seen Jeff angry. He was usually even tempered.
“Beats me.”
“Do you think we should check on them? Make sure Jeff’s okay?”
“No. He’ll cool off in a few seconds.”
“You’ve seen him like this before?” I asked.
“Sure. Jeff’s got a long fuse, but when he does get mad, he blows up, then it’s over. He’ll be fine.”
Livvy hiccuped, waking herself up from the minuscule nap she’d taken during the tense conversation between Cass and Jeff. I checked my watch. About time to go. I had just enough time to get home before Livvy’s next feeding. I slid out of my chair and gathered baby paraphernalia—car seat, diaper bag, and rattles—while Mitch pitched our plates and cups in the trash. He took my keys and went to start the Cherokee and let the air conditioner run to cool it off while I packed up everything and headed down the hall after him.
I turned a corner, expecting to find a door to the parking lot, but instead I saw a corridor of offices. I wandered around until I saw Diana come in a door. She let in a swath of sunlight and glided down the hall, her blond head barely visible above a stack of paper plates, napkins, a small cooler, and plastic packages of hamburger and hot dog buns. “See you later,” she said and passed me. I headed for the door. At least it would get me outside.
Hot air gushed over me when I pushed open the door with my shoulder and hip, balancing Livvy’s car seat in the crook of my left arm and the diaper bag and purse on my right shoulder. “Here, let me help you with that,” said Diana’s husband, Brent, from right behind me. He must have come down another corridor because he wasn’t behind me until that moment. He reached around me to give the door a shove with one hand. His other hand snaked up my right arm, his fingers lingering against my arm and shoulder as he removed the diaper bag from my shoulder. “I forgot how much these diaper bags weigh.” He stepped into the parking lot.
My arm felt like it had a slimy trail from his touch. I resisted the urge to wipe it down and said shortly, “I could survive in the wilderness for three days with that bag.” Mitch was walking across the parking lot with another man. We met in the middle of the lot. Mitch introduced the small and wiry man moving impatiently from foot to foot as Nick. He shook my hand and then quickly headed for the squad.
I thought Brent was a flight commander, so he carried some weight in the squadron. I should be careful here and not do anything stupid for Mitch’s sake. “Brent helped me with the diaper bag.” I looked at Mitch, trying to convey: “This guy is a jerk.”
Mitch took the bag from him. “I think I can manage from here.”
Cass passed us on the way to her van with a wave that jangled her keys. Brent gave Mitch a fake little salute and strolled away with a self-satisfied smile. Like he enjoyed that whole thing.
“I don’t like him,” I said to Mitch as we walked toward the Cherokee.
Mitch gazed out over the flight line to the flat land around the base. Unlike Vernon, which was rich with texture since it perched on a hill and spilled down into a valley, the base was located several miles farther west, on the flat plains that stretched out to make the central valley of Washington between the Rockies and the Cascades. His eyes followed the undulating curve of the distant foothills of the Rockies. “He’s not well liked in the squadron.”
I clicked Livvy’s car seat into the base inside the Cherokee. Mitch tossed in the diaper bag. “I think Briman’s just waiting for Brent to mess up. Briman’ll hammer him.” I stood uncertainly by the driver’s door. Should I tell Mitch? But what was there to tell? His fingers brushed against my arm? That wouldn’t interest Colonel Briman.
Cass eased out of her parking space, pulled through the empty one in front of her. I watched her burgundy van lumber away around the curve toward the back gate until an adjacent building blocked it from view. I explained about the key swap Abby and I had made and Mitch gave me his house key. I said, “Well, see you in a little while,” and climbed into the Cherokee. Before I shut the door, Mitch kissed me rather fiercely and smiled.
“Love you,” I said.
“Love you, too.” It was a little superstitious, but I always told him I loved him when we parted. I didn’t think about it much, but with his job we never knew what might happen.
The burgundy minivan stood out against the dull brown soil and cloudless blue sky as I rounded the last curve before the turn to the back gate. Why was Cass pulled over on the side of the road with both front doors open? I passed the van, but I didn’t see Cass. I pulled over on the shoulder, a narrow strip of hard-packed dirt that dropped off steeply to a drainage ditch. I left the Cherokee running with the A/C blasting for Livvy, who was sleeping, then I made my way back to the van.
The sun scorched my shoulders. Only the hum of bugs and the faint whine of the van’s engine broke the silence. No cars passed on the road. In the distance, I could see the building that blocked the squadron from my view. Strange to think people were still there cleaning grills, picking up trash, talking. Faintly, the engines of a plane droned. Someone preflighting or doing maintenance. I checked the driver’s seat of the van. Empty. I waved away a bug buzzing near my ear and glanced into the back of the van. No one.
Cass’s purse, a large woven bag, tilted sideways on the passenger seat with its contents strewn across the seat and console: lipsticks, pens, paper, a plastic sleeve of wallet-size pictures, checkbook, and a sunglass case. The glove compartment hung open. Maps, a flashlight, cassette tapes, and napkins littered the floorboard. I glanced back at the Cherokee, unsure what to do. Even though Livvy was asleep, I’d need to feed her soon.
But I couldn’t just leave.
I walked around the hood to the passenger side and barely avoided a pool of vomit. I saw her, a bright splash of pink against the monochrome brown, about five feet down at the bottom of the drainage ditch.
“Cass? Cass? Are you all right?” I slithered down feet first, one hand behind me for balance. My sandals kicked up small pebbles and dirt that rained down on her arms. She wasn’t moving. CPR. How many compressions? How many breaths?
She was on her stomach in the ditch, like she’d tried to climb up the hill, but crumpled back with her knees bent and her arms outstretched. One
espadrille twisted almost off her foot. I touched her shoulder. “Cass?” She rolled away from me. Dirt matted her face and hands. Red, lumpy patches of raised skin dotted her arms and legs. I remembered the dirt and her swollen skin later. Mostly, I saw it in my dreams. At that moment, I could only focus on her hazel eyes that blindly faced the sky.
An Everything in Its Place Tip for an
Organized Move
Recruit friends to help you pack and unpack. Here’s how to make the most of the additional help:
Situate people in rooms and have them completely pack out a room so the contents of the room stay together. For instance, instead of having several boxes labeled “Lamps,” pack the lamps from the living room in the living room boxes.
Encourage specific labels on boxes. Instead of “Storage Closet,” use “Games.”
Devise a code to help prioritize unpacking, such as #1—items needed everyday, #2—decorative items that can be opened later, #3—out of season items.
Station one person at the door and have them make a master list of every box.
Whether your movers are professionals or helpful friends, buy everyone lunch!
Chapter
Three
Simplicity is making the journey of this life with
just baggage enough.
—Charles Dudley Warner
Oh, my God.” It was a prayer. I scrambled back up the hill to check on Livvy. Of course, she was fine and still sleeping. Death hadn’t touched her. I dropped into the driver’s seat and opened the console with shaking hands. I flipped open the cell phone and turned it on, but no answering beep or lights greeted me. I took a shaky breath. It was one of the things on our lengthy list: activate cell phone.
“Ellie, are you okay? Do you need some help?” Gwen’s husky voice sounded loud in the stillness. Her brown hair curtained her face as she leaned across the leather seat of her sleek white Camry to talk through the open passenger window.
