I’ll Meet You There (10 page)

“Thought so.”

He followed me to the next room (Tom Cruise), helping me with the bed again. I didn’t
ask why. It was nice having company—I’d been spending way too many hours alone with
my own thoughts.

“I can’t believe these are still here.” Josh pointed to the model fighter jets hanging
from the ceiling. He’d put them together to add to the
Top Gun
theme. “Thought they’d have fallen apart by now.”

“
I feel the need—”
I began.

And together: “
The need for speed. Ow!”
We high-fived, just like Goose and Maverick in the movie. We were sort of nerdy like
that when it came to
Top Gun
.

“Good times,” I said, remembering how we’d decorated the room together. “You played
that ‘Danger Zone’ song so much. Marge wanted to kill us.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I can’t believe you had the sound track. Like, who has that?”

“Cool people like me, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

Josh was the only person I knew who indulged my
Top Gun
obsession. Chris had tried, but he couldn’t get through watching it without snarky
commentary. Now I realized that Josh must have loved it because it was all about the
military.

“You know, I never told you, but
Top Gun
was my dad’s favorite movie.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. That’s why I started watching it so much. But now I just love it. I guess
that’s kinda weird.”

“No,” he said. “It lets you feel closer to him. Makes sense.”

There was more quiet bed making and bathroom stocking and nightstand dusting.

“That’s why I hooked up with your brother,” I blurted out.

He looked up at me, his head cocked to the side. “Because of
Top Gun
?”

“No. It was … God, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” I looked down at the rag
I was using to dust, but I knew he was watching me, waiting. “It was the anniversary
of my dad’s death and, I don’t know. Maybe it was because of graduation coming up
without him, but I just … I needed a body. That sounds so slutty. But it’s the truth.
I just had to forget, for a while.”

I hadn’t told anyone that before. Not even Dylan. I didn’t know why I needed to tell
Josh, but it felt like I did.

He was quiet for a minute, and I wished I could take the words back, but then he said,
“I understand, Sky. That’s not slutty at all. Or, if it is, then I’m the world’s biggest
slut.”

I laughed and finally looked up. He was smiling at me, a funny smile. Kind. “I can
see the headlines now,” I said. “‘Wounded Warrior Says He’s World’s Biggest Slut.’”

“Oh, man. The guys in my old unit would love that.”

I wondered if he could hear the longing in his voice when he mentioned the guys he
used to fight with.

“You miss them,” I said. Not a question.

His eyes widened, like no one had ever made the connection before. “They were my family,”
he said simply.

I got that—it was what Chris and Dylan were to me. “You need people like that,” I
said. “Sometimes they’re the only ones who have your back.”

“True that.”

“You ever see any of them?”

“Nah. Everyone’s all spread out, and the unit’s back in Afghanistan for another tour.
Mix of old and new guys. A couple girls too, actually. Lady Marines are badass.”

I’d never thought about that, how women would be over there too. I wondered what it
was like for them, being around so many guys, fighting in a country where it was a
victory for girls just to go to school.

“I had a few visitors when I was in the hospital, but it was just too…” He ran a hand
over his shaved head. “It wasn’t the same.”

“Gotcha,” I said. Through with dusting, I leaned against the TV stand while he finished
the bed. “So after the renovations, what are you gonna do?” I asked.

He’d only ever worked at the Paradise part-time, and unless he took my job when I
left, I couldn’t imagine that there’d be enough for him to do. We never had more than
five rooms booked a night.

Something passed over his face—a shadow or a memory. He looked out the window for
a second, suddenly far away. Maybe back in Afghanistan.

“It’s none of my business,” I said. Didn’t know why I wanted it to be. Shit, why’d
I have to be so nosy?

He threw pillows on the bed as he spoke. “No, it’s cool. I don’t know what I’m gonna
do. Blake’s helping my dad out in the shop, and he doesn’t really need more than one
of us. I mean, we thought I’d be in the Marines forever, so—yeah. My mom thinks I
should try truck driving, but I don’t even know if they’d take me with … I was also
thinking maybe I’d go to school.”

“Like …
college
?”

He smirked. “Yeah, us jarheads can read
and
write. Pretty crazy, huh?”

I hugged a pillow to my chest. “Sorry. I didn’t mean … I just thought you weren’t
into school. Like, at all.”

Honestly? I’d been a little surprised he graduated.

He shrugged. “I read more than
Maxim
, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I’m a dick, sorry.”

He laughed. “Chicks can’t be dicks.”

I waved my hand. “Semantics.” I threw him a pillowcase, and he put it on the last
pillow. “Okay, so if you
did
go to school, what would you study?” I asked.

He shrugged. “No idea. The government will pay for it, though, if I ever think of
something. So, yeah, I don’t know. I’m not out yet, so nothing’s decided.”

“Wait.” Something in me twisted, but I ignored it. “You’re still in the Marines?”

He nodded. “I’m on leave right now. I’ve got six weeks of convalescence, six weeks
of regular. I have to decide by the end of the summer if I’m gonna stay in and take
the desk job they’ve offered me or get out. They said in the future there might be
a training position.”

“But you wouldn’t have to, like, fight again, right?”

“I want to. If I can up my PT—uh, my physical training—and get one of those badass
robotic legs, hell, yeah, I’d want to go back. Be useful.”

“To
Afghanistan
?” I wanted to say,
Haven’t they done enough? Haven’t
you
done enough?

“Without a doubt. I’m supposed to be there. You know, there’re guys who lost way more
than me who are still in. Their eyes, all their limbs. I used to think they were crazy.
Thing is, being a Marine is the only thing I’m good at. Well, until the bomb anyway.”
He sighed and shook his head as he turned toward the door. “I’m starving. You want
anything from McDonald’s?”

It was the nicest way to say
conversation closed.

“Oh. Sure, that’d be great.”

I gave him my order and then scooped my heart out of my stomach while he walked away
toward his truck. After a second, I ran to the door.

“Josh!”

He turned around. “Yeah?”

“Being a Marine isn’t the only thing you’re good at. Maybe you just don’t know what
your thing is yet, you know? I think…” I took a breath. “I just think you’re selling
yourself short.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be back soon.”

Hanging out with Josh was like learning how to drive stick. It was hard enough just
to start and then it was one stall after another. But somehow I always managed to
crawl forward, just a little bit.

chapter eight

It’d been a long day at the Paradise, and after the intense conversation with Josh,
I wasn’t ready to deal with Billy Easton. I breathed a sigh of relief when his truck
wasn’t in our driveway, but the trailer had evidence of Billy everywhere. It smelled
like a bar—sour and a little bit sad. The cigarette smoke from last night clung to
the couch, the curtains, the towels. I opened all the windows and doused the place
with air freshener that smelled only marginally better. I could hear the shower running,
which was good because it meant Mom was at least awake. An empty pizza box lay on
top of the stove, and the trash can was full of bottles. I took the trash out, then
started on the dishes that were piled in the sink. I knew the sight of me cleaning
up wouldn’t mean a whole lot—my mom was used to that. But I was hoping that she’d
be more willing to talk if I wasn’t sitting on the couch with my arms crossed, glaring
at her. Which was what I wanted to do.

The neighborhood was pretty quiet for a summer night. There was the slow clatter of
a train heading north, maybe up to San Francisco, and the screech of some kids as
they rode by on their bikes. I thought of the story Josh had told me of the kid in
Afghanistan and wondered what it would be like if there were soldiers in our neighborhood,
peeking into our houses and passing out candy to the kids. Pointing their guns. I
couldn’t imagine it.

I reached my hand up and trailed my fingers through the wind chimes that I’d hung
over the kitchen sink. There wasn’t a breeze, but I wanted to hear their cheerful,
tinkling sound. I closed my eyes as my fingertips brushed the metal tubes, and for
a moment the bright notes took me away. It was a flying, dancing, falling sort of
sound, and I decided there was hope in the world when you could make a sound like
that.

I set to work, scrubbing at dried melted cheese and cups rimmed with old coffee stains.
The water was hot, maybe too hot, but it kept my mind off of what was coming.

“You’re back,” Mom said.

I turned around and there she was, leaning against the door frame, her hair wrapped
up in a towel. I hadn’t turned on any lights, and the twilight shadows spilled across
her face. I flipped a switch, and the dull kitchen light nuzzled the darker corners
of the room, brought out the circles under her eyes.

“How you feeling?” I asked. She looked about ten years older.

Mom sighed and walked over to the fridge. She must have seen me stiffen because she
pulled out a bottle of Nestea and shook it at me. “Just tea,” she said.

Like I was some kind of narc.

Last night was hanging in the air between us, a heavy, ugly thing that leered as it
waited to be called onstage. I wished she would bring it up, but that wasn’t her style.
She was a sweep-things-under-the-rug kind of person.

I turned off the water and slowly wiped my hands with the dish towel. It smelled bad,
and I threw it on the floor where my mother had begun an impromptu laundry pile. Then
I turned around and leaned against the kitchen sink.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

She sipped at her tea. “I just had a little fun last night, Sky. When’s the last time
I did that?”

I didn’t say anything, and she rolled her eyes and sat down in a huff. “Jesus, you’d
think I’d shot up or something.”

I thought about Josh and what he was up against. This was nothing.

“I just don’t understand why you’re drinking again. Or why you were hanging out with
Billy. I mean, how many times did you tell me he was scummy?”

Mom reached into her bathrobe pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I didn’t
even bother saying anything about her smoking—what was the point?

I looked down at my bare feet. I hadn’t painted my nails in weeks, and the light blue
polish that Dylan had put on them for graduation night was chipping. Graduation. About
a million years ago.

When I looked up at my mom, she was watching me, five different emotions and none
of them anger flashing across her face. She put down the cigarettes and crossed to
the sink, pulling me into one of her viselike hugs. It had been days and days since
she’d hugged me like that, and I could feel my stiffness and anger melting away.

“I know I’m such a disappointment to you, Sky,” she whispered.

“No,” I lied. “I just…” I swallowed the tears that were threatening to come out and
hugged her even tighter. “We can get through this. Together.”

Mom let go and backed away a bit. She lifted up one of her callused hands and tucked
a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

“Baby, what I need you to be thinking about right now is college.”

“I
am
thinking about college,” I said. “But I’m not leaving you like this. We have to get
you a job. I just found out the gas station’s hiring, so you could work there, and
if we get Billy away from here—”

“Sky, I’ve spent the past eighteen years making tacos. I don’t think a couple of weeks
off is such a crazy idea.”

“I know, but—”

“And who’s gonna hire me?” Her voice started to rise. “Taco Bell’s the only job experience
I have. If I apply somewhere else, they’ll call the Bell and find out about the robbery
and how it was all my fault. You think someone’s gonna want to hire me after that?”

“I mean, can’t you try?”

“Waste of time. Plus I’d have to apply online.”

We didn’t have Internet at home, and the chance of getting my mom over to the Paradise
to use Marge’s was slim to none.

“What about unemployment?”

“I’m not eligible. Since it’s my fault I got fired, the state’s gonna leave me high
and dry.”

Shit. I hadn’t realized that.

A truck rumbled into the driveway, and I looked out the kitchen window, a silly part
of me hoping it was Josh. Not that there was any reason it would be. Then I spotted
the faded red truck: Billy was pulling up, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

I turned back to my mom. “Seriously?”

“I deserve to have a little fun, don’t you think?”

“So let me take you to the beach. We could go to Pismo, or, I don’t know, one of those
Indian casinos. Or camping in Yellowstone…”

I could hear the note of desperation in my voice, not to mention that we had never
once gone camping. Even when my dad was around, the closest I’d ever gotten to the
great outdoors was spending a day by the creek with our old portable Weber grill.

“Baby, cut me some slack, okay?”

This thing was building in me, so big, so much. I couldn’t do it anymore—be her cheerleader
and therapist and parent and daughter all in one. And screw her for making me.