WHETHER FROM WITHIN
Or from direct enemy fire, there
were Marines among the coalition
casualties. But as the time for Cole
to return to Hawaii grew nearer,
my anxiety lessened, despite the fact
that his final weeks carried him out
beyond the wire, closer to the heart
of Taliban country. Some people,
probably wiser than I, grow more
nervous as their soldier’s homecoming
nears. They know that every day
that passes problem-free increases
the odds that something bad might
happen. But I wasn’t seeing things
that way. Maybe it was because
I kept myself busy, or because I kept
myself medicated, but I didn’t worry
too much about Cole, not even when
communication dried up. I knew his
patrols were sending him beyond
the reach of phones or computers,
expected I would hear from him once
he was back behind the wire at Camp
Leatherneck. There was a rhythm
to his life, a rhythm to mine, and
before long our rhythms would mesh
into a gentle syncopation of time
together. That’s how it had been for
almost four years, despite a few hiccups
that threw us completely off-beat.
SO I WAS SURPRISED
No, shocked, really, when I got
a late-November call from Cole’s
mom. Ashley, honey, now don’t
worry. Everything’s fine. Cole’s okay . . .
Not a good start to any phone call.
But there was . . . uh, something
happened. At that point, her voice
kind of caught in her throat.
Um, a roadside bomb went off
and the Humvee he was riding in
flipped over into a drainage ditch.
The guys in the truck behind them
pulled everyone out. Cole was wearing
body armor, so he wasn’t hurt. Well,
he had a slight concussion, but that
barely slowed him down. Stubborn
kid wanted to go straight back to work.
Can you believe it? They kept him
overnight for observation, but he walked
out on his own after that. Said a little
bell ringing in his helmet wasn’t any
big deal. That is just so much like Cole,
isn’t it? Ashley? Are you there?
I was, and I was speechless. “I’m
here. Thanks for letting me know.”
I COULDN’T MANAGE MORE
Small talk about the ranch
or Dale or to ask if any letters
had arrived from Lara. A shock
wave of nausea shook my body.
Just like that, he could have been
gone, erased from my life as if
he’d never been part of it. And
I would have heard that news
secondhand, too. I resented
that, but not as much as I hated
the overall implication. What
must it be like to get that call,
or the ring of the doorbell? To
have your other half severed
completely, or returned to you
with pieces missing? Cole got
lucky. In my belief system, luck
and God are interchangeable.
God was watching over him,
allowed him to walk away with
a few scratches and a shaken
brain. Hopefully, not shaken too
hard. But on another day, God
might have been busy elsewhere.
It was a wakeup call I didn’t need.
SPEAKING OF CALLS
I did not get one from Cole, giving
me any sort of details. I kept waiting,
but it never came. Finally, I e-mailed
him. Said his mom had mentioned
something about a little accident. Still,
I had to wait several days to hear
back from him, via return e-mail.
OH BABY, IT WAS NO BIG DEAL. I KNEW
YOU’D BE WORRIED OVER NOTHING,
SO I DIDN’T WANT YOU TO KNOW.
I WOULDN’T HAVE TOLD MOM, EITHER,
BUT IT’S PROTOCAL TO INFORM NEXT
OF KIN. ANYWAY, I WENT STRAIGHT
BACK OUT ON PATROL. GOOD AS NEW,
EXCEPT FOR A HEADACHE THAT WENT
AWAY AFTER A COUPLE OF DAYS.
MY BUDDY, TIM, SAID WHEN THAT BOMB
BLEW IT WAS PRETTY EXCITING.
I DON’T KNOW. I DON’T REMEMBER
IT AT ALL. NOT THE EXPLOSION,
OR GETTING EXTRICATED FROM
THE VEHICLE. THEY TELL ME I WAS
UNCONSCIOUS FOR TEN OR FIFTEEN
MINUTES. FIRST THING I REMEMBER
WAS SEEING TIM’S SHIT-EATING GRIN
AND HIS LIPS SAYING, “WELCOME BACK,
BUDDY.” I COULN’T HEAR HIM AT ALL.
NOT FOR THE ROARING IN MY EARS.
I COULDN’T HEAR MUCH FOR A FEW
HOURS. TELL YOU THE TRUTH, I WAS
A TEENSY BIT WORRIED I MIGHT BE
DEAF. BUT, LITTLE BY LITTLE, THE NOISE
IN MY HEAD WENT AWAY AND MY HEARING
CAME BACK, GOOD AS NEW. PHEW.
Curiosity got the best of me and
I had to ask if everyone else
involved made it out okay, too.
ALL BUT ONE. HIS BACK TOOK
THE PRESSURE FROM THE BLAST.
BUSTED A VERTEBRAE. THEY’RE NOT
SURE, BUT HE MIGHT BE PARALYZED.
TOTAL SUCKAGE. FUCKING BASTARDS.
One more thing to be thankful
for. In fact, I was so grateful,
I almost forgot to be mad. But
not quite. Whatever his reasons,
Cole had no right to try to keep
me in the dark about something
as important as that. I didn’t want
to be protected. I wanted the truth.
TRUTH
I turned the word over in my head.
Distrust surfaced from beneath
the shimmer of anger that remained.
Lara. Why did she cross my mind
when Cole’s mom got hold of me?
I had this sudden desire to know
more about her. All I knew was
her name and that she lived near
Denver. How could I find her?
Facebook, of course. It took about
two minutes. I expected her to be
a knockout. Maybe even a model
or something. Not quite. According
to her profile, she worked ski patrol
in the winter, lifeguarded in the summer.
She was cute, not beautiful, but
probably looked great in a swimsuit.
Her photos showed her on skis,
drinking with friends, and playing
Frisbee with her dogs. She liked
reading, reality TV, and Adele.
Her status showed “in a relationship.”
At first that made me feel better.
But then I got to thinking. I started
scanning her wall, hoping Cole
didn’t show up there somewhere.
I scrolled down a very long way.
But I saw no sign of him there.
THAT WAS WHAT I HOPED FOR
But somehow it wasn’t quite enough.
Cole had a Facebook page, too.
Not that he ever used it much, at least
not when he was deployed and his
computer time was limited. I rarely
went looking there, but was tempted
to that day. His posts were dated
&
nbsp; very far apart. The most recent
was a couple months old. FUCKING
118 DEGREES IN THE SHADE. TOO
GODDAMN HOT TO CAUSE TROUBLE.
And, by God, the one comment
there was from her. GOOD. YOU
NEED TO STAY OUT OF TROUBLE.
That was it. Nothing more. No
words of love, or even affection.
They were Facebook friends. So what?
They didn’t seem to communicate
very often. Although, I had no idea
if they were messaging each other.
Or e-mailing each other. Or writing
each other. And if I really had to worry
about any of that, it’s not like I could
change it. I had to believe in Cole.
In us. And I did. Except when I didn’t.
Why did I have to find out about Lara?
SUSPICION BREEDS BAD DREAMS
Now that I had her face
embedded in my brain,
I had a doozer about Lara.
I was in the desert, picking
wildflowers, when it started
to rain. The sky opened up
and it poured. I was soaked
in seconds. The sand sponged
the water but couldn’t hold it.
Soon, a wet sheet covered
the land, to the far horizon.
Flash flood. It picked me up,
carried me along, and it was all
I could do to keep my head
above the flow. Faster. Faster.
I swam hard, a long way, but
my shoulders grew tired, my legs
went weak, so I flipped onto
my back, and the river enfolded
me with pewter arms. Pulled
me under. I held my breath,
struggled for more, looked
up, seeking help. There, in
her lifeguard tower, Lara smiled
down at me as my lungs filled.
He doesn’t want you, anyway.
Woke, soaked and shivering,
between sweat-drenched sheets.
SOMETHING ABOUT NOVEMBER
Touches me.
How, splendid in nutshell
skin, she exposes the green lies
of June, swollen ego unsustainable
beyond a single shot of
summer.
Something about November
touches me like a lover.
How she bares herself
beneath autumn’s iced blue
sky, defiance in her tarried
striptease, the low slink
of shadow.
Something about November
touches me like a lover’s kiss.
How she shivers, wet
with rain too long coming,
soaks her earth
with the heady sweat of
downpour.
Something about November
touches me like you do.
How she waits for gray
December tendrils to infiltrate
secret places, infuse
her with the ephemeral light
of solstice.
Cole Gleason
Present
PLANNING A WEDDING
Begins with a couple of basics—
when and where. I’m thinking
the end of June, to give Cole
time to return from Afghanistan,
debrief, and decompress. Plus,
the Lodi weather can still be cool
early in the month. While I would
love to get married in the same
church my parents did, Cole isn’t
Catholic. We’d have to jump through
too many hoops. A nice outdoor
venue should do. Maybe up-country,
in the woods. Or at a winery.
Pricey, and it might be late to find
one that can accommodate us. But
there are many in the area. If I get
right on it . . . Or maybe I’ll put Mom
on it. That way, at least I’ll know how
much my parents will help out with
this financially, and if I get Mom
involved, hopefully she’ll become more
enthusiastic about the day. I need
her in my corner. Like, really a lot.
I should probably shoot the idea
past Cole first. But he told me to go
ahead and make the plans, and anyway,
that’s the bride’s prerogative, right?
Besides, who could argue with a wedding
at a California winery? It’s perfect.
I CHECK MY CALENDAR
Saturdays, late June. The twenty-third
or the thirtieth. Could go the Friday
evenings before or the Sundays after.
That’s, like, nine dates. Surely we can
find a winery that can accommodate
one of them. I call Mom, ask her what
she thinks of my plan, and if she’d be
willing to help out. Avoidance. Well,
you know, I’m pretty busy with school.
Redirect. “But, Mom, winter break
is pretty soon. Can’t you spare a few
hours to make some calls for me?”
Change of subject. You’re coming
home for Christmas, right? You could
make the calls yourself then. Wow.
Tactic shift. “I guess I could. So,
what do you think of the idea?
It might be kind of expensive.”
Long sigh. I guess we’ll know that
after you make those calls. How
much were you thinking of investing
in this wedding, Ashley? Look, I put
a little money away for your day.
You might want to consider the best
way to spend it, though. Big wedding
or maybe the down payment on a house?
I HATE LOGIC
to something as emotional
as this. “I’ll think about it.
Can you give me a ballpark
figure, though? It will help.”
I’ve got around twenty
five thousand earmarked.
If you’re careful, you could
do a very nice wedding for
half of that. Or less. Or . . .
Or I could just wait. That’s
what she wants to say.
I won’t give her the chance.
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll make
some calls and then we can
decide. How many people
do you think we should plan
for?” Way to keep her involved.
“I should probably make
a guest list. Can you help?”
Another, bigger sigh. Of
course. When you’re home
at Christmas we can do it
together. You should get
hold of Cole’s mom, too.
Good point. “I will. Hey, Mom?
I really appreciate your support.
Love you lots. Bye.” All things
considered, that went okay.
I SPEND A COUPLE OF HOURS
Looking at websites. The average
cost of a wedding is just about
the amount of money Mom has
put aside. The average cost
of a winery wedding . . . well,
there are just so many variables.
The brides are beautiful, in white
dresses, among the grapevines.
The handsome grooms stand
happily by them, all decked out
in tuxes. We’ll save a little there.
Cole will wear his dress blues.
Catering, per person. DJ or band?
Flowers. Rings. Invitations. Do
we really need “save the date”
cards? So much to consider. No
wonder it takes so long to plan
a wedding. And I’m just getting
started. We definitely need those
guest lists to do very much. I can
start mine now, let Mom add to
it later. I put in a call to Cole’s mom.
Feel relieved when it goes to voice
mail. “Hi Rochelle. This is Ashley.
How are you feeling? Cole says
you’re doing much better. Listen,
I’m starting to make wedding plans
and before I can do much, I need
a guest list. Can you please help out on
your end? Thanks and I’ll be in touch.”
I START MY OWN LIST
Relatives. Friends. Many of whom
I haven’t spoken to in years. My bad.
I mean, school has been my focus. Well,
school and Cole. I used to be popular,
but I really have turned into something
of a recluse. Who will I even ask to be
in the wedding party? Darian, of course.
Hopefully, she’ll come around and agree
to be my maid of honor. Bridesmaids?
Sophie and Brittany, I suppose, though
it’s been weeks since we’ve gone out
together. I haven’t even told them
I’m engaged yet. Note to self: Call
Sophie and Brittany. Invite them out
so you can break the news in person.
And maybe have a little fun in the process.
I am considering just how little fun
I’ve allowed myself when my phone rings.
Rochelle, calling me back already?
Nope. Local number. Wow. It’s Jonah.
Morning, Ashley. Do you have a wetsuit?
I hear they’re breaking large at Swami’s.
LET’S SEE
Spend the day alone, perusing
wedding websites and stressing
over not getting out enough and
having fun or . . . surfing with Jonah.
Kind of a no-brainer, except,
“Actually, I don’t have a wetsuit.
I don’t surf much in the winter.”
Oh, but December is prime
riding. Massive storms up north
mean big breaks down here.
And no worries. I’ve got an extra
wetsuit that should fit you.
“Does this mean I get to ride
in your Woodie?” That sounds
vaguely vulgar, but we both
let it go and he says he’ll pick me
up in a half hour. Guess that