Collateral (10 page)

divorcing Spencer. I can't tell him

long distance, though. So I guess

I'm stuck in limbo for now.

“And if you decide to split up,

will it be because of Kenny?”

In a way. I didn't fall out of love

with Spencer because of Kenny.

But I did fall in love with Kenny

because of Spencer. Kenny treats

me with respect. Simple as that.

Sadness seeps into me. Through

me. And still, “I guess I understand.

I'm just sorry, you know?” I give her

a hug. “I'm fading fast. Guest room?”

She smiles.
Clean sheets on the bed

and everything. And there's a new

toothbrush in the medicine cabinet.

Morning-after-tequila breath is brutal.

As I start down the hall, she calls

after me,
So you know, I'm sorry, too.

Still, I find it hard to sleep.

The bed is bigger and softer

than mine. I sink down into

the pillow top. Eyes closed,

I could be afloat in a calm sea.

Then up blows a wind. Spiraling

impatience for the impermanent

nature of love. Can it endure?

Grow? Flourish? I love Cole more

now than I did our first year

together. Is it because I know

him better—have investigated

beyond exterior shine, discovered

the facets underneath, strong,

pure, impenetrable? I hear Darian.

What if he was around all the time?

Would seeing him every day change

the way I feel? Is my heart fonder

because of his absence? Does proximity

breed discontent? The last thing

I want is for Cole and me to become

like my parents, one finding some

slim measure of satisfaction in

the other's failures. But what about

loyalty? Faithfulness? Promises kept?

Would sharing a home make it less

welcoming—to Cole, or to me?

Was mostly a year apart. At first,

while Cole attended SOI, we saw

each other when he got weekend liberty.

Sometimes on base, other times off,

but only if he wasn't in the field, and only

if his platoon sergeant was so inclined.

We didn't know for sure if or when it

would happen, and anticipation built

to an insane degree. Cole could

use his cell phone only on Fridays,

after training. I'd wait breathlessly

until I got a definitive yea or nay.

Even then, there were restrictions.

Luckily, Uncle Jack lived within

the prescribed radius and also had

a daughter cute enough to lure

Cole's “battle buddies.” SOI

infantrymen did not leave base

alone. The Corps believes in

chaperones. We did manage some

alone time, though. Sex, ever better,

was my reward for patience, and

“liberty” for Cole meant plummeting

toward commitment for me.

Lasted not quite two months.

By the time Cole's graduation

loomed, I was over-the-top in love

with him. My own schoolwork

suffered more than a little, not so

much because of time spent with him,

as because of too much time

fantasizing about being with him.

Daydreams are distracting. Then

came the very real threat of

losing him. As commencement

day marched ever closer, anxiety

took seed. Sprouted. Grew like

the spring weeds outside my door.

I didn't eat much. Food had no taste.

My brain fought sleep and when

exhaustion forced it, desolation

framed my dreams. And snapshots

of war. I couldn't get past those

images. They were everywhere—

television, magazines, the Internet.

Finally, I went to a counselor

who sent me to a therapist, who

prescribed tiny pills that allowed

me some measure of deep night

respite.
Non-narcotic
, he promised.

Then he amended,
But could cause

dependency.
I still depend on

them to silence the nightmares.

My body has learned to work in sync

with them, sleeping straight

through the night, waking on time

and mostly refreshed. But those

first weeks, Ativan fogged

every morning. The alarm couldn't

fight the daze. I ended up missing

my morning classes, and as

someone who had always been

in complete control of my life

up until then, I felt like a puzzle

that couldn't be solved because

pieces were misplaced. But then

would come Cole's Friday call,

and all those pieces started to fall

right into place, except for the most

important ones around the edges,

the ones that completed the puzzle.

Those appeared when Cole did.

Wasn't working out much better

for Darian, not that she saw Spence

much more than I saw Cole. And

not that she worried any more

about him, either. In fact, she slept

fine, sans medication. Her problem

was lack of motivation.
The only thing

I'm good at is singing,
she said.
So why

bust my butt, working for grades?

The only classes she kept up with

were music and screenwriting.

Spence's MCT school was only

four weeks, no liberty the first two.

By the third, he and Dar were in

regular heat for each other. They

had only a few hours together,

but made the best of it at Uncle

Jack's. The fourth week, Spence

was allowed overnight liberty, and

partway through their all-night love

fest, they began making wedding

plans. After his MCT graduation,

Spence's MOS training would continue

at Pendleton. He wanted a wife

before any chance at deployment.

And Darian wanted a husband.

Spence received special liberty

to walk down the aisle. Cole

was granted it, too, to serve as best

man, opposite my maid of honor.

The wedding night was incredible,

at least for Cole and me, who had

our own honeymoon suite right

on the beach, waves serenading

us as we made love. It was our

first time alone with no pressure

to hurry since those first days

after we met. We were starved

for each other, barely through

the door before tux and dress

fell to the floor in an inelegant

heap. There was nothing elegant

about what came next, either.

It was desperation, made flesh.

He picked me up with steel-

muscled arms, kissed me, bit

me, licked me. Tried, it seemed,

to swallow me. And I screamed

for him to climb inside me and

he did, with his lips and tongue

and fingers—one, two, three.

And then he filled me up with fire

and stone and when he poured

into me, I cried. Because I knew.

That would be our last night

to join in such a way before

the Marine Corps ordered him

to a place where touch would not

be possible. Unfair, when I had

just tapped into this wellspring,

need I never knew I thirsted for.

Unfair, to strip me of him, just

when I realized he was intrinsic

to the “me” I'd become. Who would

I be when he was gone? Later,

I would realize that distance was not

at the heart of my pain. It was time,

dissipated. Vanished into the ether.

Moments lost cannot be resurrected.

But, whether or not I knew the reason,

I ached for him, for us, though he held

me in his arms. When I confessed

my fear and he made love to me

the second time, it was tender, driven

by tears. And he whispered into my ear,

my hair, the plush skin of my breasts,

my belly, my thighs:
Don't be sad, Ash.

As long as you want me, I will always

come back to you. And, no matter where

I am, you will be the first I think of every

morning, and this will be the last thing

I remember as I fall asleep each night.

Was the best one of all.

Something to remember,

for sure. For him. And me.

Exhausted, but not close

to satiated, we poured

memories into the predawn

hours, enough to last

for the long months apart

dangling on the near horizon.

Afterward, he held me

so tightly I could barely

breathe. But when he mumbled,

I love you, Ash,
I could have

happily suffocated right there

in his arms. It was the first time

he'd said it. I half-suspected

he was delirious, wasn't sure

I believed him. Nor was I certain

he heard me when I dared

admit out loud, “I love you,

too.” I'd never uttered those

words, to him or anyone. But

I realized, just as I nodded

off, how very much I meant it.

It can also destroy you. The day Cole

graduated SOI, love annihilated me.

By then, I was helplessly, ridiculously,

out of my mind crazy about him. And

they gave us exactly fifteen minutes

to say good-bye before loading him up

to send him off to his permanent duty

station on Oahu. I don't know why they

call PDSs “permanent.” “Regular” is more

accurate, at least until the brass deploys

their grunts elsewhere. Cole would have

four months in Hawaii before heading to

Iraq. San Diego felt a million miles away,

and as summer closed its fists around

spring, I felt the squeeze. Finals were

a nightmare. Despite the vastness between

Cole and me, I was every bit as distracted

as when he was “spitting distance,” to borrow

a Wyoming colloquialism. Later, when

my parents wanted to know what happened

to that semester, I told them I was sick,

which wasn't a total lie. I was heartsick.

They always started pretty much

like this:
Hey, sweetheart.

What's up in the real world?

And, since I always answered,

“Not much going on here. What's

happening in
your
world?”

I got a regular rundown

about barracks cleaning

and physical training before

the poet in Cole started talking

about,
The perfume of plumeria,

fighting the scent of sweat

in the air,
or how,
The ocean's

singing reminds me of our last

night together. Remember?

How could I possibly forget?

And that made me even

hungrier to see him or touch

him or taste him. His voice was not

nearly enough, so I'd go get his shirt

and bury my face in it until time was up

and he had to tell me,
Good-bye. Love

you.
And,
I'm in need of some serious

Ash time.
Before long, our mantra.

To Spencer being assigned a local

PDS. He had requested Pendleton,

which is home to several helicopter

squadrons. With that likely, he put

in for on-base housing, knowing

it would take a while for approval.

Meanwhile, his housing allowance

would pay for the off-base apartment

he could come home to after completing

training. With SDSU out for summer

break, I packed up my stuff, left Darian

in San Diego, and went home.

Despite my growing feelings for Cole,

I hadn't mentioned him to my parents.

I had a pretty good idea of how they

would react, especially Mom. The only

thing that surprised me was how calm

she remained when we sat down to dinner

my first night back and the conversation

almost immediately went to if and who

I was dating. At that point, lying seemed

ridiculous, so I admitted, “Actually, I am

seeing someone. And it's kind of serious.”

All silverware action came to a halt.

Why didn't you mention it?
asked

Dad.
Is he, like, twice your age?

I smiled. “Well, he is an older man.

Twenty-one, in fact. And he's kind

and smart, and really good looking . . .”

It was then or never; at least

that's how it felt, so I went ahead

and added, “And he's in the Corps.”

Mom's jaw went rigid.
Surely you

don't mean the Marine Corps?
When

I looked away, she knew. Yet she kept

her voice low.
Are you actively seeking

heartbreak? Have you heard there's a war

going on? I can't believe you're that stupid.