with a bright pink heart:
私は東京を 💖
It might be an I Love New York mug. Except the silhouette of Godzilla, however, leads me to believe the letters identify Tokyo or another Japanese city.
“Have a seat,” she says. “I’ve got to admit, the donuts—that was a good move. We’re out of food, I’ve got to go grocery shopping today.”
“How is she doing?”
“Jasmine?”
I nod. Zoe’s face is pensive and she looks away from me slightly. In a low voice, she says, “Same stuff we talked about yesterday. When I told her there wasn’t any school today, she just went back upstairs without a word.”
“You didn’t make her come down for breakfast?”
Zoe shakes her head. “I don’t want to push her.”
That makes sense. Zoe takes a cup out of the holder and I grab the other.
“I took a risk you’d prefer cream and sugar.”
“That’s fine,” she says. “Thank you. I wasn’t very gracious when you showed up.”
“You’re not required to be gracious.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Seriously though, shouldn’t you be picketing or something?”
I smile. “There will be some people doing that. I’m actually sitting on my phone waiting to see if the school committee calls. I’m one of the union representatives—if they decide to negotiate, I’ll get the call.”
“You think they will?”
I nod. “Yeah. Everything else aside, people are seriously inconvenienced when school is closed.”
Her expression doesn’t change. “It’s true. I’m supposed to start classes on Monday.”
“So you are in college.”
“I got accepted under some pretty dodgy circumstances thanks to family friends and the Veterans Services department.”
“How do you mean?” I ask.
She shrugs. “My dad was a professor at Mount Holyoke. So—sometimes people stick together. I didn’t get into UMASS on my own power.”
“I’m sure you would have been accepted if you had gone through the normal process. Right?”
She smiles. “Now, how would you know that?”
“I don’t. You seem pretty smart. I bet you did well in school.”
She nods. “I did. Top of my class.”
The words slip out of my mouth without thought. “But you joined the Army.”
She gives a minute shake of her head. “That’s a bit of stereotyping, don’t you think? There are plenty of smart people in the Army, even if they aren’t academics.”
“True. Forgive me.”
“Of course,” she replies. “I’ve spent the last five years fighting stereotypes. Outside the Army they think we’re all idiots. Inside the Army, the idiots think women can’t be soldiers. Outside the Army too. I spent my whole tour in Iraq patrolling near Baghdad, often on foot. My first time coming home, the guy next to me on the plane asks me how I like nursing.”
She spent a year in Iraq? On patrol? On foot? I don’t let my surprise show on my face. A moment later I hear loud steps thumping down the hall above us, then almost a gallop coming down the stairs.
“Jasmine,” Zoe says in a still voice. “Sounds like she’s already dressed to ride.”
Less than a second later, Jasmine clomps in wearing riding boots. She stops in the doorway of the kitchen. “Mister P?”
“Hey, Jasmine.”
Jasmine looks confused. A deep line creases her forehead as her eyebrows draw together. “What—what—what—why are you here?”
As she stumbles over the words, her face screws up in frustration.
“Well, school’s closed, but I wanted to stop in and make sure you were okay. Also, I had these extra donuts, and I didn’t know what to do with them, so I brought them to my favorite third grader.”
Jasmine flushes a deep red. “I’m—I’m—your favorite third grader?”
I press my index finger to my lip and blow. “Shhhhh… don’t tell anyone. Just come get a donut.”
Trick-rider (Zoe)
I’m not sure I know what to make of Matt just showing up here. My first reaction when I saw him out the window was to not answer the door. I’m a mess,
私は東京を 💖
It might be an I Love New York mug. Except the silhouette of Godzilla, however, leads me to believe the letters identify Tokyo or another Japanese city.
“Have a seat,” she says. “I’ve got to admit, the donuts—that was a good move. We’re out of food, I’ve got to go grocery shopping today.”
“How is she doing?”
“Jasmine?”
I nod. Zoe’s face is pensive and she looks away from me slightly. In a low voice, she says, “Same stuff we talked about yesterday. When I told her there wasn’t any school today, she just went back upstairs without a word.”
“You didn’t make her come down for breakfast?”
Zoe shakes her head. “I don’t want to push her.”
That makes sense. Zoe takes a cup out of the holder and I grab the other.
“I took a risk you’d prefer cream and sugar.”
“That’s fine,” she says. “Thank you. I wasn’t very gracious when you showed up.”
“You’re not required to be gracious.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Seriously though, shouldn’t you be picketing or something?”
I smile. “There will be some people doing that. I’m actually sitting on my phone waiting to see if the school committee calls. I’m one of the union representatives—if they decide to negotiate, I’ll get the call.”
“You think they will?”
I nod. “Yeah. Everything else aside, people are seriously inconvenienced when school is closed.”
Her expression doesn’t change. “It’s true. I’m supposed to start classes on Monday.”
“So you are in college.”
“I got accepted under some pretty dodgy circumstances thanks to family friends and the Veterans Services department.”
“How do you mean?” I ask.
She shrugs. “My dad was a professor at Mount Holyoke. So—sometimes people stick together. I didn’t get into UMASS on my own power.”
“I’m sure you would have been accepted if you had gone through the normal process. Right?”
She smiles. “Now, how would you know that?”
“I don’t. You seem pretty smart. I bet you did well in school.”
She nods. “I did. Top of my class.”
The words slip out of my mouth without thought. “But you joined the Army.”
She gives a minute shake of her head. “That’s a bit of stereotyping, don’t you think? There are plenty of smart people in the Army, even if they aren’t academics.”
“True. Forgive me.”
“Of course,” she replies. “I’ve spent the last five years fighting stereotypes. Outside the Army they think we’re all idiots. Inside the Army, the idiots think women can’t be soldiers. Outside the Army too. I spent my whole tour in Iraq patrolling near Baghdad, often on foot. My first time coming home, the guy next to me on the plane asks me how I like nursing.”
She spent a year in Iraq? On patrol? On foot? I don’t let my surprise show on my face. A moment later I hear loud steps thumping down the hall above us, then almost a gallop coming down the stairs.
“Jasmine,” Zoe says in a still voice. “Sounds like she’s already dressed to ride.”
Less than a second later, Jasmine clomps in wearing riding boots. She stops in the doorway of the kitchen. “Mister P?”
“Hey, Jasmine.”
Jasmine looks confused. A deep line creases her forehead as her eyebrows draw together. “What—what—what—why are you here?”
As she stumbles over the words, her face screws up in frustration.
“Well, school’s closed, but I wanted to stop in and make sure you were okay. Also, I had these extra donuts, and I didn’t know what to do with them, so I brought them to my favorite third grader.”
Jasmine flushes a deep red. “I’m—I’m—your favorite third grader?”
I press my index finger to my lip and blow. “Shhhhh… don’t tell anyone. Just come get a donut.”
Trick-rider (Zoe)
I’m not sure I know what to make of Matt just showing up here. My first reaction when I saw him out the window was to not answer the door. I’m a mess,
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