I don’t remember.”
“That must’ve been hard.”
“Oh, man. Does this have to be some kind of sob session about my sad childhood?”
“Oh, no, we wouldn’t want that,” Bethany said. “Big tough fellow like you actually having emotions. Completely unacceptable.”
“I have emotions. Is being annoyed by a lot of questions an emotion?”
“All right, we’ll move on.”
“Or we could stop.”
“What about your first girl? And no, I don’t mean for sex. I don’t want to hear about some Russian hooker.”
“She said she was a Kansas farm girl. She did talk kind of funny now that I think about it.”
“Who was the first girl you had a crush on, the first girl you ever loved?”
“You know what?” I reached down and smacked her backside.
“Ow!”
“I’m tired of this game.” I threw my legs over the side of the bed and sat up, my back to her.
She came up behind me and laid her fingertips against me. “Just tell me something you love, Dan. I just want to know what it’s like.”
I had my hands pressed into the mattress, ready to push up and stand, but I lingered a while, breathing her scent. She had a nice scent. It wasn’t her perfume, either—it was her. She smelled clean and natural; innocent somehow. I always liked that about her.
“What’s the point?” I said. “Look, it’s no secret: You grow up how I grew up, it does something to you. You’re never entirely comfortable in your own skin.”
“I know that.”
“Maybe nobody is. I’m not complaining. It was what it was. I got myself straight in the Army and now . . .”
She stroked my back. “Now what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I just want . . .”
“Me to leave you alone?”
“It’s not that exactly. It just does no good for me—always talking about everything, thinking about everything. What good does it do? When things are over, they’re over, you can’t change them. I just want to go about my life, go about my business.”
“Agh, Dan!” She came up on her knees and wrapped her arms around me. It was a pleasure to feel her press against me. “You’re such a great guy and you’re so exasperating!”
“Am I?”
“You make me so crazy! Couldn’t you just . . . ?”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Let me in? Just a little. You don’t have to love me, sweetheart. Really. Just let me in.”
I started to say something. I don’t know what—some dodge or other. Luckily, I was rescued from the whole business by my phone’s ringtone.
Then it’s hi-hi-hey—the Army’s on its way . . .
The phone was in the pocket of my slacks. My slacks were lying on the floor. I had to root around for them, and then root around in the pocket. During the whole process, the phone sang and sang.
For where e’er we go, you will always know, that the Army goes rolling along . . .
“Damn it.” I couldn’t get it. Finally, just as I managed to yank the phone out of the pocket, the singing stopped. The readout showed it had been Sheriff Brady calling. “Oh, hell.”
“What?” said Bethany.
“It was the boss. Something must’ve happened.”
I was about to dial him back when the phone started ringing again. Then it’s hi-hi-hey . . . I answered before the first verse finished.
“Hey, Sheriff, here I am,” I said.
“We just got a 911 call,” said Brady. “Floater in the Hudson just south of the picnic grounds. Figured you might be at Bethany’s, nearby . . .”
“Yeah, I’m, like, a minute away. I’ll be right there.”
“Send that good woman my apologies . . .”
It really was barely a minute’s drive from Bethany’s place to the river. I got there just behind the sirens. The blue and red lights of a couple of cruisers and an ambulance were flashing as I pulled to the curb. The deputies and EMS workers were already climbing out of their vehicles in the shifting, colored glow. More sirens sounded, more lights flashed against the night as two more cruisers came racing to the scene.
Walking quickly,
“That must’ve been hard.”
“Oh, man. Does this have to be some kind of sob session about my sad childhood?”
“Oh, no, we wouldn’t want that,” Bethany said. “Big tough fellow like you actually having emotions. Completely unacceptable.”
“I have emotions. Is being annoyed by a lot of questions an emotion?”
“All right, we’ll move on.”
“Or we could stop.”
“What about your first girl? And no, I don’t mean for sex. I don’t want to hear about some Russian hooker.”
“She said she was a Kansas farm girl. She did talk kind of funny now that I think about it.”
“Who was the first girl you had a crush on, the first girl you ever loved?”
“You know what?” I reached down and smacked her backside.
“Ow!”
“I’m tired of this game.” I threw my legs over the side of the bed and sat up, my back to her.
She came up behind me and laid her fingertips against me. “Just tell me something you love, Dan. I just want to know what it’s like.”
I had my hands pressed into the mattress, ready to push up and stand, but I lingered a while, breathing her scent. She had a nice scent. It wasn’t her perfume, either—it was her. She smelled clean and natural; innocent somehow. I always liked that about her.
“What’s the point?” I said. “Look, it’s no secret: You grow up how I grew up, it does something to you. You’re never entirely comfortable in your own skin.”
“I know that.”
“Maybe nobody is. I’m not complaining. It was what it was. I got myself straight in the Army and now . . .”
She stroked my back. “Now what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I just want . . .”
“Me to leave you alone?”
“It’s not that exactly. It just does no good for me—always talking about everything, thinking about everything. What good does it do? When things are over, they’re over, you can’t change them. I just want to go about my life, go about my business.”
“Agh, Dan!” She came up on her knees and wrapped her arms around me. It was a pleasure to feel her press against me. “You’re such a great guy and you’re so exasperating!”
“Am I?”
“You make me so crazy! Couldn’t you just . . . ?”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Let me in? Just a little. You don’t have to love me, sweetheart. Really. Just let me in.”
I started to say something. I don’t know what—some dodge or other. Luckily, I was rescued from the whole business by my phone’s ringtone.
Then it’s hi-hi-hey—the Army’s on its way . . .
The phone was in the pocket of my slacks. My slacks were lying on the floor. I had to root around for them, and then root around in the pocket. During the whole process, the phone sang and sang.
For where e’er we go, you will always know, that the Army goes rolling along . . .
“Damn it.” I couldn’t get it. Finally, just as I managed to yank the phone out of the pocket, the singing stopped. The readout showed it had been Sheriff Brady calling. “Oh, hell.”
“What?” said Bethany.
“It was the boss. Something must’ve happened.”
I was about to dial him back when the phone started ringing again. Then it’s hi-hi-hey . . . I answered before the first verse finished.
“Hey, Sheriff, here I am,” I said.
“We just got a 911 call,” said Brady. “Floater in the Hudson just south of the picnic grounds. Figured you might be at Bethany’s, nearby . . .”
“Yeah, I’m, like, a minute away. I’ll be right there.”
“Send that good woman my apologies . . .”
It really was barely a minute’s drive from Bethany’s place to the river. I got there just behind the sirens. The blue and red lights of a couple of cruisers and an ambulance were flashing as I pulled to the curb. The deputies and EMS workers were already climbing out of their vehicles in the shifting, colored glow. More sirens sounded, more lights flashed against the night as two more cruisers came racing to the scene.
Walking quickly,
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