No one. The sidewalk is empty. Silent.
Where am I? I’m hungry, and looking
for the marketplace. Did I take a wrong
turn? I walk faster but don’t know
which way to go, and there’s no one
here to ask for help. Suddenly, I hear
yelling. Dogs barking. Laughter. The noise
is to my right. I follow it down a deserted
avenue. And now I see kennels. Men.
Soldiers. Standing in front of wire
enclosures. Laughing. “Hello?” I call,
but they can’t hear me past the barking.
Snapping. And now, someone is crying.
Praying. I reach the first pen. Two soldiers
stand back, let me look inside. A boy
is chained there, on his knees. Naked.
A huge Doberman is mounting him.
And the soldiers laugh. “Bastards!”
I run along the chain link, eyes in front
of me. Suddenly, a German shepherd
lunges at its gate. When I turn, I see
it has something in its mouth. Red
drool drips, and the dog bites down,
crunching bones. “Drop it!” I scream,
and the shepherd obeys. What falls
to the ground is a hand. A lady’s hand.
On its third finger is a diamond ring.
“No, no, no, no!” The keen of my own
voice yanks me from the nightmare.
Pale light leaks in through the window.
Evening? Morning? I lie, panting like
the dogs in my dream. My stomach
growls and I reach for my cell to check
the time. Seven eighteen. Morning.
I slept for fifteen hours. No wonder
I’m starving. I put the phone back on
the table and when I do, the glint
of a two-carat diamond catches my eyes.
All of a sudden, I don’t feel so hungry.
BUT BY THE TIME
I clean up, get dressed, and start
to pack, I’m famished again.
Checkout is eleven. My flight,
barring delays, is a little after one.
I’ve got time for room service.
I think about steak and eggs.
Order an omelet instead. Cheese.
Spinach. Onions. Bell peppers.
No meat. While I wait, I organize
my suitcase. Cosmetics in the middle.
Running shoes at the bottom. Tank tops,
shifts, and shorts, folded in fourths,
placed around the sides. Flat over
all, the sweater I brought, just in case.
I’ve never needed to use it here.
But what if I did, and didn’t have it?
Breakfast arrives and I eat it
out on the lanai, watching white-
tipped Pacific waves break gently
in the distance. That same ocean
is breaking against California
cliffs and sand. Connecting here
and there. Connecting Cole and me,
at least until he leaves for Afghanistan.
And then, the sky is what we’ll share,
the earth’s spin, forward movement
of time. That, and the love that makes
all things seem forgivable. Most of the time.
I AM IN THE CAB
On my way to the airport before I check
my cell for messages. The first is from Cole.
WOULD HAVE CALLED BUT
DIDN’T WANT TO WAKE YOU.
I LET MOM KNOW ABOUT
THE ENGAGEMENT. SHE SAID
TO GET IN TOUCH IF YOU NEED
HELP PLANNING. IT’S THE BEST
I’VE HEARD HER SOUND SINCE
BEFORE SHE GOT SICK. WEDDINGS
ARE GOOD MEDICINE, I THINK.
FLY SAFE AND LET ME KNOW
WHEN YOU GET THERE. I ALWAYS
WORRY UNTIL YOU’RE OVER THE
OCEAN AND STANDING ON SOLID
GROUND. SPEAKING OF OVER THE
OCEAN, WE LEAVE ON FRIDAY.
DON’T TELL THE TALIBAN WE’RE
COMING. I WANT IT TO BE A SURPRISE.
I LOVE YOU ASHLEY, GIRL. ALWAYS.
He told his mom. Guess I’ll have to tell my
parents, too, which will make the idea legit.
I need a few days. The second text is from Dar.
WHEN WILL YOU BE HOME?
I NEED YOU, ASH. IT’S SPENCE.
THERE WAS AN ACCIDENT.
HE MIGHT NOT MAKE IT.
Rewind
LANCE CORPORAL GLEASON
Returned early from his second tour
in Iraq, and he did qualify for sniper
school. Cole was a crack shot. No
brag. Just fact. What I didn’t know
then is that all those silent weeks,
he was off on voluntary patrols with
the sniper platoon and had impressed
the right people. Just how remains
a mystery. I keep tiptoeing around
asking for details. Maybe one day
I’ll find the courage. Maybe it’s better
not to know. They say U.S. Marine
scout-snipers are the cream, and I
don’t doubt it at all. I’ve seen videos
documenting what Cole went through
in his eight and a half weeks of training.
It’s intense. Those soldiers must be in
top physical condition. More even than
that, they have to be prepared mentally
to run miles, swim with heavy weights,
crawl through smelly, slimy muck, then
get to their feet, run some more, drop
to their bellies, sight in and hit targets
spot-on at awe-inspiring distances.
Attrition is something like sixty percent.
Cole, of course, made the cut and
became a member of an elite squad
of single-shot kill marksmen. Woot.
I DIDN’T SEE HIM
Until after his training was complete.
I was okay with that. I’d just started
my senior year and wanted to focus
on my classes without distraction.
Plus, I was still shaken over the idea
that Jaden had made me question
my relationship with Cole. Was it pure
loneliness, or did I have some moral
defect I’d never realized existed before?
I was afraid if I saw Cole too soon,
the guilt in my eyes would give me away.
After several weeks, it did start to fade.
So I was happy enough to find out
that Cole was taking leave to help
celebrate my twenty-third birthday.
Not only that, but Spence was coming
home, too. He, Darian, Cole, and I
would be together for the first time
in almost three years. It was a reunion
we’d talked about and hoped for,
but only coincidence could make it
actually happen. Darian and I worked
hard to plan something special—
an overnight trip to Disneyland.
Neither of us had visited since we
were teens. Cole and Spence were
Disney virgins. It sounded like fun.
A real celebration, reminding us
that we were still young. The problem
was, despite our relatively youthful ages,
in too many ways, we were no longer
young. Cole had just graduated
from a school that taught him to be
a better—no, the best—killer. Spence
had recently seen three of his buddies
wiped out by a suicide bomber. Oh,
and he should have been right there
with
them in the same vehicle, but
for a providential case of dysentery.
Survivor’s guilt adds figurative years.
As for Dar and me, well, we still
believed in our youth. But face it, forever
commitment—whether sanctioned by
a license or not—when you’ve barely
entered your third decade of life
makes you older than your friends
who are still out there playing the field.
It’s play that keeps you young.
PLAY
Is what we had in mind.
It sort of started out that way.
I asked my Mom for mad money
to book a room on property.
“That’s all I want for my birthday,”
I told her. She seemed to understand,
although I found out later
she also added funds to my
savings account. Moms. You have
to love them, or at least appreciate
how they care for you covertly, despite
your pulling away. Overtly, she sent
enough for adjoining rooms
at the Grand Californian Hotel,
a spectacular resort adjacent California
Adventure. Disneyland, Phase Two.
Sometimes my birthday abuts
the busy Thanksgiving weekend.
This was one of those years, so it
took some planning to make it happen.
Cole flew directly into Orange County.
I maneuvered the obnoxious freeways
alone, picked him up at the airport,
and we checked in late Saturday
afternoon. Dar and Spence drove
up together. The plan was to meet
for dinner, enjoy the evening,
then do the parks the following day,
when hopefully most of the crowds
would be on their way home.
I WAS SO LOOKING FORWARD
To seeing Spencer again. My first
thought, when I spotted him and Dar,
waiting at the restaurant entrance
was, “Is he sick or something?”
I saw no sign of Spence’s signature
swagger. In its place was . . . I don’t
know. Caution, I guess. Where once
he held Darian with downright prideful
possessiveness, that evening,
the way his arm rested around
her shoulder seemed needful, like
if he let go, his knees might buckle.
Cole took a good, long look at Spence.
I haven’t talked to him in a while,
he commented. But he does look
a little unenthusiastic, doesn’t he?
“Maybe he’s just scared of giant
Mickey Mouses? Or would that be
Mickey Mice?” We both snickered
at my stupid joke, but straightened
up before Spence noticed our
inappropriate laughter. I didn’t think
he’d appreciate our acting all concerned,
either, so I found just the right kind
of smile and offered him a long,
affectionate hug, which he returned.
“God, it’s great to see you. How have
you been?” Innocent enough.
Spence pulled back. Ah, you know,
I’ve been better. But being home
for a while is bound to help. I missed
my girl. He leaned over and kissed Dar.
She kissed back enthusiastically,
but when she glanced over at me,
her eyes held apprehension.
The hostess came to seat us for our
seven p.m. reservation. And, even
though we had just come from upstairs,
the first thing I did was excuse myself
to use the ladies’ room, hoping Darian
would follow. She did. I went straight
to the sink to wash my hands. Dar did
the same. I looked at her in the mirror.
“What’s up with Spence? Is he okay?”
She shook her head. I’m not really
sure. He’s had a weird cough since
he’s been back. Says it’s walking
pneumonia. Whatever it is, he’s not
eating right and he’s skinny as hell.
And I think he’s depressed. I hope
this trip picks him up a little. At home,
he just sits around, playing Xbox.
“Has he been to the doctor?”
I asked, knowing her answer.
“Any way you can get him to go?”
I knew the answer to that one, too.
HE DID COUGH AT DINNER
A deep rattle that could, in fact,
be pneumonia. But Marines—real
men—don’t need doctors unless
they’re bleeding out. And after
dinner, he went straight outside
for a smoke, claiming it would help
dry out his chest. Cole went with
him while Dar and I headed for
the lounge for prebirthday drinks.
We ordered a round for the four
of us before I said, “I’ve never
seen Spence so quiet. If you can’t
get him to go in on his own, isn’t
there someone at the base you
can call?” Depression is common
among soldiers, and those with
too little to keep them busy often
act out in not-so-good ways.
I’m on it. But with all the Iraqi
returnees, they’re really busy.
Spouses take a backseat, and
he isn’t asking for help. I’ve got
an appointment in three weeks.
“Shush. Here they come.”
Amazingly, Spence’s cough
seemed a little better. Maybe
tobacco was good for walking
pneumonia. What did I know? Still,
inward. It was a pleasant evening,
regardless. We all kept conversation
light. No talk of war or torture except
for some commentary about Sea
Stallion helicopters wearing out from
use, and what kind of replacements
might be coming. I might have
been totally bored, except Spence
lit up, jabbering excitedly about
his area of expertise. Just watching
him pull himself out of whatever dark
place he’d been stuck in made me
smile and pretend my total attention.
Dar, I could tell, felt the same way.
It was like old times. The four of us,
drinking and laughing and cementing
our friendship. Spencer only coughed
a couple of times, and he barely leaned
on Darian at all. By the evening’s
end, while I was still worried about
Spence, his problems, whatever
they were, didn’t seem quite as
distressing. Until the next day.
IT STARTED OUT FINE
We did California Adventure first,
and we got there just past opening.
There were no crowds to speak of.
No major lines. I loved Soarin’ Over
California, a simulated hang glider ride.
Cole was partial to the big coaster,
which blasts you one hundred-plus
vertical feet before accelerating into
a loop-the-loop. Dar wanted to do
the Tower of Terror twice, but straight
drops give me a headache. Cole rode it
with her the second time. Spence waited
with me. I could really use a smoke
right about now, he said sincerely.
&nbs
p; “Think maybe you should lay off
those things until you see a doctor?”
Thanks for caring, Mom. But I’ll be
fine. I’m better today, you know?
As if on cue, a fresh round of hacking
punctuated the sentence. “If you say so.”
He put his arm around me. Squeezed.
I meant when I said thanks for caring.
HE LEFT SOMETHING UNSAID
And I knew it. But just then, Cole
and Dar appeared, arm in arm,
laughing. Spencer tensed. Softly
pushed me away. We claimed
our partners, finished park number
one, skipping the water rides. Who
gets wet in November? After lunch
we walked over to Disneyland proper
and by then people had definitely
arrived. Down Main Street, walking
was elbow to elbow. People yelling.
Kids laughing. Babies crying. The noise
level just kept rising, the deeper
we pushed into the park. “Let’s get
Fast Passes for Indiana Jones, then
go do Thunder Mountain Railroad,”
I suggested. Fast Passes let you come
back within a certain window of time
and use a quicker line. You have to
know how to maneuver, but if you work
them right, they’re awesome, especially
when the park is as crowded as it was
that day. The problem was, the Thunder
Mountain line was crazy long, too.
Between working our way through
that queue, doing the ride, locating
a designated smoking spot for Spencer,
waiting for him to indulge—twice—
then finding our way back to Indiana
Jones, our Fast Passes had expired.
SPENCE WENT BALLISTIC
Had he been in uniform, or at the very
least been decent to the Fast Pass Line
guy, things would probably have worked
out very differently. Instead, when the guy
tried to turn us away, Spence shoved him.
What the fuck do you mean, expired?
You want us to wait in the other line,
just because we’re a couple of minutes
late? You’d better think again, asshole.
People started moving away. Spence
grabbed the guy by the collar, and I looked
at Cole, expecting him to pull Spence off.
Instead, he stood there with an amused
grin on his face. “Cole. Please.” Before
he could react, Security arrived. Bad
became worse when two uniformed
men tried to pull Spencer off Fast Pass