Bottom Feeder (17 page)

I vote for the boat ride. To my
surprise Maddy climbs into a two-person John boat anchored to the
party barge. I untie the rope as she starts the motor.

“
Let me,” I say, climbing
to the end. After a quick assurance that I know what I’m doing, she
gives up the seat and allows me to take over.

She glides down to the bottom of the
boat and reclines her head. She begins to hum a soundtrack for our
short trip to the opposite end of the peninsula.

Sounds of the water lapping lazily
against the boat, distant blares of tugboat horns and the
heartbreak song of crickets chirping in the trees remind me of how
much I miss this place.

I cut the motor and gently lower the
anchor.

“
Mind if I join
you?”

A sleepy smile plays on her lips. “Not
at all.”

To make room for my six-one length, I
throw my legs over the seat. Water splashes inside the boat as I
glide down next to Maddy.

I do not think about insurgents or
ammunition or nightmares. Serenity overtakes my thoughts. For the
first time in months my disturbed mind is not screaming for
mercy.

We lay in silence—our arms and legs
touching accidentally on purpose—until well after the sun dips
beyond the horizon. I reluctantly head back to the dock before
complete darkness takes over.

Maddy leads us down a
hallway of plush red carpet lined along the sides with movie
theater lights. The walls are covered with movie posters ranging
from
Gone with the Wind
to
The Goonies
to foreign films with titles I’ve never heard of.
Oversized leather recliners line up in rows of stadium seating in
the main room. A wall-sized movie screen is embedded in a sleek
frame, giving the effect of an ornate picture.

Maddy shows me how to work the touch
screen controller before she goes for popcorn and drinks. I scroll
through a list of thousands of movies.

Please no chick movies.
Please no chick movies.

“
No romantic comedies or
dramas, please!” she calls from another room.

I smile to myself and pick a
comedy.

“
I love this one!” Maddy
exclaims, handing me a tub of popcorn mixed with peanut butter
M&Ms.

I sit next to her at the
back of the room. I should not sit too close, but I
need
to be this close to
her.

I mimic the lines from the movie in an
attempt to make her laugh. The torch is passed when she begins
reciting the lines in perfect unison, including the ridiculous
accents and facial expressions. I clutch my stomach and crumple
over from laughing so hard. It feels good to laugh like this
again.

Maybe I will be all right after
all.

I take her hand.

Maddy’s fingers twitch at my touch,
like she is going to pull away. She doesn’t. With a smile not
focused directly at me, she squeezes my hand and rests our hands on
her leg.

Does she notice how our fingers fit
perfectly together? How each caress of her soft skin with my thumb
is doing things to me that I’ve never experienced
before?

Does she know how wrong it feels for
me to feel like this?

“
When is Cordell expected
to be back?” I ask when the movie ends.

“
Tomorrow
afternoon.”

“
It’s okay if I stay a
little longer?”

“
If you’d like,” she
whispers.

I smile and take her hand again. “Show
me the roof.”

Maddy leads me to her bedroom, out a
set of French doors that open to a large terrace and around a set
of Adirondack chairs. The terrace comes to an end at a spiral
staircase near the back of the house.

Only an iHome and a bed-sized chaise
lounge adorn the small space. Our view overlooks part of Back River
and the private peninsula attached to the property. With no moon or
stars, the night is all darkness. The blue-black of the sky meets
the inky black water, giving the effect of being in the center of a
massive black hole.

I recline on the chaise, stretching my
legs as far as I can to make sure Maddy has no choice except to sit
next to me.

I know what you’re
thinking. I’m not trying to have sex with her
.
Maddy is not the type of girl
someone can treat like a one-night stand. She is worth taking
things slow. Too bad I’ve never been that type of guy.

I cannot believe I’m thinking this.
What is she doing to me?

For the next few hours, Maddy and I
talk about everything and nothing. When the conversation lulls, I
fall asleep with my head across her lap and Maddy’s fingers running
through my hair.

The Kevlar vest is heavy
and rough against my bare chest. My helmet is not enough cover for
my head. The gun feels too light in my hands. I aim, shoot. The
clip is empty.

The pleading faces of
Sergeant Hauton, Specialist Gorney, and Private Trakt appear
through a cloudy haze of gunpowder and sweat. A sniper’s bullet
whistles by my head in slow motion. My legs sink into the mountain
when I try to run. I cannot save them. I can
never
save them.

Gunfire drowns my screams
of how much I hate this fucking war.

“
Shhh, Jackson. It’s
okay.” Maddy’s voice seeps into my nightmare. I scream, plead for
an end. “Shhh . . . it’s okay,” Maddy repeats. She shouldn’t be
here. Why is she here?

“
It’s not okay!” I shout.
Through my incoherent, tearless sobs, Maddy’s arms remain draped
around me. “I couldn’t do anything! Not a damn thing. They . . .
The boots . . . I left them untied. The bullet . . . oh, God. That
bullet was meant for me, and I was busy
tying my fucking boots
. I should’ve
died, Maddy. Why didn’t I die? I deserved it. Not them.”

Her grip tightens. “Shhh,” she
soothes. I sit up and press my forehead to her shoulder. Her arms
immediately go around my neck, her hands in my hair.

“
This is never going to
end,” I say, defeated. “The nightmares. The anger. The guilt. I’m
paranoid to a fault. The psychs aren’t helping. Nothing
helps.”

“
I’m so sorry you have to
go through this,” she says, her voice a beautiful whisper in my
ear. “I wish I could take it all from you, Jackson. I promise I
would. I hate this.” I nuzzle further into her shirt, feeling
vulnerable and not caring one bit about how weak this makes
me.

“
What am I supposed to
do?” I ask without really looking for an answer. It just feels so
good to have her arms wrapped around me that any sense of shame is
pushed away. “I don’t know if I killed anyone, Maddy, but someday a
God I’m not sure I believe in will punish me.”

“
No.” Her lips brush
against my ear as she whispers, “You cannot go through life
thinking about punishment and reward with each action you take or
reaction you have. When you get to a place like that—with that kind
of thinking—it’s dangerous. You begin punishing yourself, thinking
you deserve whatever bad things come your way. If any of those
bullets were meant for you, they would have hit you. Because they
hit someone or somewhere else means you still have something in
your life to accomplish, something to live for. This is your second
chance at life, Jackson. Your chance to do something worthwhile,
something great. Don’t waste that. You can’t live if your only
reason for waking up each day is to survive.” She turns my face to
hers. “And those doctors? Their job is not to fix you. They are
there so you can learn to fix yourself.”

I press my forehead to hers,
nose-to-nose. I stare into her sapphire eyes and wonder if I am
good enough for this girl. If I deserve someone like
her.

“
Thank you, Maddy,” I
whisper, our lips almost touching.

“
You’re welcome,” she
whispers back.

I kiss her cheek.

Stand.

Leave.

Saturday night, after a full day of
painting Mrs. Brenner’s house and replacing her top floor windows,
I am exhausted and starving. I decide to find the nearest buffet
within walking distance. I’m tying up my sneakers when Mama strolls
through the door with an armful of piping hot food.

“
I’ve been so busy at the
shop this week,” she says, placing the food on the kitchen table.
“I haven’t had time to cook a real supper. I got your favorites.”
She hands over two boxes from the stack.

My stomach drools at the site of
chocolate pecan pie and pralines.

In no time at all, I devour a full
plate of perfectly fried chicken, mac and cheese, collard greens
and buttermilk biscuits. After letting the main course settle I
greedily eat half the pie then stretch out on the floor with one
hand in the container of pralines and the other rubbing my full
stomach.

“
That was so good,” I
mutter lazily.

“
You should thank Maddy,”
Mama replies. “That is, if you’re talking to her.”

Everything I’ve done since I came home
has revolved around this girl that should mean nothing to me. She
has overtaken damn near every aspect of my life.

I am beginning to resent her for
that.

“
I don’t have to talk to
her.” Ignoring the surprised look on Mama’s face, I add, “She’s not
my responsibility.”

“
I didn’t say she was.”
Her tone is cool. Indifferent.

“
It’s just that I . . .
she’s not . . .”

“
No need to explain
anything to me, Jackson Benton Monroe.” The dismissal is obvious. I
should keep my mouth closed. I don’t. I can’t. If there was an
ounce of honesty inside me right now, I could admit that I’m afraid
of what I’m starting to feel for Maddy.

I don’t want those feelings. Or need
them. I’m too selfish and fucked up for anyone right
now.

“
Why not? She’s someone
you want me to be with, so why wouldn’t I have to expl—”

“
You do not have to
explain
anything
to me.” The look on her face tells me I’ve crossed a line.
Mama places the latest Stephanie Plum novel face-down on the table.
“You are too much like your father to ever see what’s in front of
you and who will stand behind you no matter what.”

“
Mama . . .”

“
This is not about Maddy,
JB, it’s about
you
. Cordell made you take her out the other night. He made you
go to his house on Thursday when he wasn’t home. What father would
allow his seventeen-year-old daughter to be alone in his house with
a nineteen-year-old man? There’s something seven shades of shady
going on. If
I
know that I’m willing to bet Maddy does, too. Have you ever
thought about how your actions can hurt someone? Or do you even
care? You used her to get something for yourself. Never in my life
have I known you to be selfish. Until now. Maybe the Army changed
you. Maybe it was the war. Or maybe,
just
maybe
, this is the real you. And that
scares the hell out of me. The one thing I never wanted to happen
is happening right now: you are turning out to be just like Michael
Benton.”

My body deflates at the second mention
of my father in as many minutes. I did not miss the lack of apology
at the comparison.

Nightmares about Mama, Michael, and
Cordell plague my sleep. When my usual nightmare begins Maddy
appears in full Army gear at my side, guiding me across the
mountain range. My legs do not sink in this time and my bootlaces
are tied. We finally reach my team. The sniper’s shot whistles past
my ear as usual. The nightmare doesn’t end here. The bullet stops,
turns around and moves toward my head in slow motion; so slow and
close that I can tell the logistics of the round is a .338 Lapua
Magnum.

Out of the corner of my eye I see
Maddy jump and take what is meant for me.

Maddy

Have you ever felt like your existence
is about to be spun for a loop? It’s not New York or leaving my
life behind or willing my lustful crush on Jackson to disappear.
No, it’s something bigger. The feeling is a breath of fresh air
after being under water too long. It is standing in front of a
mirror and, for the first time, seeing a reflection and not just an
image. It’s that infinite moment Chbosky wrote about.

I feel that today.

“
Open up!” Dixon yells
after a drumroll knock on my bedroom door. “I’ve got
storrries
!”

I unlock and open the door to my
cheesy-grinned best friend.

“
Ew. No stories.” The last
thing I want to hear about is how Dixon scored and I can’t even
manage a kiss. My skin still burns from the feel of Jackson’s lips
on my cheek. That night was so surreal, almost like it never
happened.

“
Well, you’re no
fun.”

I shrug.

“
Wow. Emo, much?” He
sprawls out on his bed.

“
How was
Tennessee?”