why is she scaredâreally
scared? That makes me scared, too.
I AM OVER THE PACIFIC
Halfway to Hawaii, eyes closed
and headphones fighting the noise
of crying babies with country music
when I remember something Dar
said the last time we played What If?
What if Cole got drunk and hit you?
I let it go. Why didnât I pursue
it? Was she talking about Spencer?
Is that what sheâs so afraid of?
That heâll plunge right off the deep
end? But sheâd tell me that, right?
Yeah, sure. Of course I would.
Especially with Spence coming
home. She wouldnât face him
alone if that was really a concern.
Would she? God, I want to talk
to Cole about this. Ask his opinion.
I want you to promise me
you wonât say anything to Cole.
I promised I wouldnât mention
it to Cole. But I never said Iâd keep
quiet about it period. When I get back,
Iâll call someone on base. A counselor.
Or chaplain. Someone who can help.
Rewind
SPRING BREAK 2008
Cole had been back from Iraq
for several weeks. He had fifteen
days of leave, and his request
to take it when we could spend
uninterrupted time together
had been granted. He went
home to Wyoming his first week,
saved the second for me. The day
I picked him up at the airport
was crazy. First, I couldnât decide
what to wear. I swear, I tried on
eight different outfits, hated
everything the mirror showed
meâtoo slutty, too old lady,
too college student in need
of new clothes. I finally settled
on a turquoise sundress that
showed off my legs and just
enough cleavage to be tempting
without shouting, âHey, check
out these babies!â Then I had
to shave my legs. It had been
weeks. Not like I cared most
of the time, and mostly I wore
jeans. Then I needed makeupâ
not too little, not too much, and
how did that smoky-eyes thing
go again? Everything took way
too long, and when I finally felt
ready and glanced at the clock,
I was already running late. Traffic
was heavy, and when it opened
up, I drove like a maniac. It didnât
go unnoticed by a particular California
Highway Patrolman. Shit. Shit. Shit.
By the time he reached my window,
I was crying mascara and plum
eye shadow down my pretty blushed
cheeks. Apparently, heâd never
brought a driver to tears before.
Excuse me, miss. But may I see
your license and registration? Please?
And could you please stop sniffling?
Uh, is something wrong? Besides me?
Why not use it? It was the truth,
after all. âMy boyfriend is just
back from Iraq and Iâm supposed
to pick him up at the airport, and
Iâm late and traffic, and now this . . .â
He let me off with a stern warning,
and I might have felt really good
about that, except now what the mirror
revealed was a total hag. I cried
most of the way to baggage claim.
AT LEAST
By the time I spotted Cole, I had
cried off most of the makeup. That
turned out to be a good thing, because
seeing him only made me cry more.
I ran into his arms, which were even
stronger than I remembered. He lifted
me off the ground, spun me around.
Brought my face right up into his
and I swear, despite my streaked
puffy eyes, the first thing he said
was, Goddamn, youâre beautiful. And
then we were kissing, and we kissed
without stopping until we really
couldnât find air, and I was glad
he was wearing his uniform because
at least then everyone waiting for
suitcases didnât think we were just
plain horny or something. In fact,
they clapped and one old guy
whistled. âCareful,â I whispered.
âI think he just saw my panties.â
Cole tugged down my skirt in back
and we laughed and kissed until
his duffle came rolling around.
We walked to the car, velcroed
together. He reached for the keys.
Let me drive? I slid into the passenger
seat, studied him as he exited
the parking lot, made his way
to the freeway, merged into traffic.
His hair was
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