The Color of Us (College Bound Book 2) (17 page)

LIAM

I took off my helmet and rubbed my hand across my head to knock the dirt and dust away. Whoever would have guessed someone like me would be allowed near a piece of machinery that cost over half a million dollars? I was no longer that boy who took orders from the wealthy at Eagle Crest. I was a soldier with a duty. I had a future.

Once basic training ended, I felt a huge sense of pride. Up until that point, I wasn’t sure if I could handle taking orders from someone, especially a drill sergeant. I might have gotten ordered around a lot before the Army, but that didn’t mean I listened. Now I had no choice. If I wanted to do this right, if I wanted to become the man I promised Lex I could be, I needed to follow training through until the end. The military was a massive commitment, but Lex was worth it.

I looked around the room at the rest of my fellow soldiers, all of us still in fatigues, pulled straight out of training this afternoon. We had no idea what to expect when we were locked in this room, but then again that was pretty much par for the course in the Army. They liked to keep us on our toes.

The door to the room opened, and every soldier instantly snapped to attention—our boots taking mere seconds to make neat rows. Our fists finding the seams along our pants. Our shoulders, back, and heads held high.

The door slammed behind the drill sergeant, and he scanned the rows, his eagle eyes searching out any faults against his perfect expectations.

“At ease,” he ordered.

My shoulders and those of each soldier around me lowered a fraction of an inch at the command.

“I know you’re curious why you’ve been pulled out of training and called here. The United States has declared war on ISIS,” he said simply. “Your unit has been called up. You will be shipping out for Syria tonight.”

As usual, he didn’t mess around with long explanations or extra information. Basic details. I liked that about him. And yet this time I could have used a little more information. I resisted the urge to look around and see the expressions on the faces of my fellow soldiers. They had to be thinking the same thing I was—we weren’t even done with training yet. How could they be sending us to war?

“You’ll wait here for further instruction.” Without any more details, the drill sergeant spun on his heel and exited the room.

At least half a minute passed before anyone dared to move. His announcement caused us to freeze in place.

Gustavo, the guy who was usually the drill sergeant’s favorite target, finally turned to face me. “They can’t do this, can they?”

I raised my eyebrows at him as I turned away, shaking my head. The Army could do whatever they wanted with us. If they wanted us to run ten miles at four thirty in the morning, we did it. If they wanted us to crawl through mud with our hands tied behind our backs, we did it. If they wanted to send us to war while the tags were still on our brand new uniforms, we went. Being on track for Special Forces didn’t make us special. He should have figured that out by now.

Gustavo grabbed my shoulder to keep me from walking away. “We haven’t even finished AIT,” he argued. “We have another week of this, and then we’re supposed to go to Airborne. We’re supposed to have another year or so of training after that. We’re not ready. We could be killed.”

I gave him a look of disgust. I wasn’t surprised by his comments; he was always the one stepping out of line, refusing to conform. I guess he was used to getting his way in civilian life, but if he wanted to survive, he needed to man up. He sounded like a fucking coward.

I yanked my arm out of Gustavo’s grip. “You joined the Army, not a knitting club.”

He turned to Troy, who was standing next to me. “They can’t just send us to war with terrorists without proper training. I didn’t agree to this.”

Troy crossed his arms over his chest. “You know the creed. ‘You stand ready to deploy, engage, and destroy the enemies of the United States of America in close combat,’” Troy quoted. “You don’t get to pick and choose which parts of that promise you honor. You’re a fucking soldier, asshole. You took an oath.”

“I know that.” Gustavo’s posture stiffened as he ran his hand across the short hair that had grown back since basic training. “It’s just… we haven’t even graduated from AIT yet.” He looked between both of us, and when he realized he’d find no sympathy, he dropped his hand. “Whatever.” He pushed through the group of confused soldiers around us.

Troy and I sat down on the bench in silence. I gazed around, taking note of how the rest of our squad reacted. Some looked worried but determined. Robbie, the biggest guy in our class, had the same expression he always wore—indifference. Mike looked excited. I heard he had a friend who was a victim in one of the terrorist attacks.

My eyes kept roaming the room until they landed on Gustavo again. He had found a sympathetic ear in Richard, and they were both discussing the unfairness of the situation loud enough for the rest of us to hear. They drew two other guys into the conversation, wondering if we would have time to contact our families before leaving and worrying over the dangers of being in hostile territory.

Troy elbowed me. “You know I got your back. We’re gonna be fine.”

I met his gaze. Troy and I were assigned as battle buddies during basic training. For the past three months, we’d done everything together. We’d failed together, succeeded together, and suffered together.

“I know. I got your back too, man.” And I always would. He was like a brother to me.

Troy nodded and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.

I moved forward until my elbows rested on my knees. Reaching into my shirt pocket, I pulled out the picture of Lex from the carnival. The edges of the photo were worn smooth, and it was faded from constantly being in my uniform for the past few months, but no amount of dirt or grime could ever diminish my memory of her. She was the one for me. And I’d get through this… for us. I replayed through every memory of my summer with her, reminding myself why this decision was worth it and what I had to gain when I succeeded.

***

Half an hour after his announcement, the drill sergeant returned. We were barely in our neat lines of formation before he started speaking.

“Private Hernandez. Private Wittaker. Private Jameson. Private Bowling.” The drill sergeant looked at each of them as he said their names. “Get out of my sight.” He jerked his head toward the door.

Gustavo, Richard, and the two guys they’d been talking to stepped out of line and walked to the front of the room. Each stopped to salute to the drill sergeant on their way out, but he ignored them.

The door shut with a final click behind them.

“Rooty poots,” the drill sergeant muttered.

It took all my willpower to keep my expression professional. No matter how many times I’d heard that term in the Army, it never got less hilarious. Silence hung over the room for a full minute as the drill sergeant examined each of us with a glare that said he knew exactly what we were thinking.

“Congratulations.” He let his stance fall wide as he gripped his hands behind his back. “We’re not at war. Not officially, that is. You’ve just survived the weeding-out process.” His gaze searched over us again, but we stood still, waiting further orders, no reaction whatsoever.

Holy shit.
I took a deep breath. There was no war. It had just been another test to purge our class of those who weren’t worthy.

“Resume your normal routines which would be—” The drill sergeant looked at his watch. “Chow time.” He stepped to the side and gave each of us a proud nod as we left the room.

A sense of relief settled over me as I walked the familiar path on my way to the mess hall. I was thankful that we weren’t being sent out tonight, but I also realized that one day we would be. It was nice to know I wouldn’t fall apart when the time came, and that I’d be with people I could depend on.

I was glad to see Gustavo and the rest go. I wondered what would happen to them. Were they kicked out? Would they be sent home in disgrace? To me, that would be worse than dying in battle. I still had too much to prove. As difficult as it might be at times, I was thankful for the Army for giving me a family I knew I could depend on, and a future that could make everything right back home.

I reached up and pressed my hand over the photo in my pocket. I would become the man that Lex could be proud of, a man she could love without question. I wanted to fight for our country and my future. Most of all, I wanted to be her hero.

I snuggled under the warmth of my comforter and switched on the lamp that attached to the side of my bed. The voices of my sisters, their laughter and teasing, faded away. The front door to the sorority house slammed shut, and silence surrounded me.

Taren, Julie, and the rest of the Tri-Gams were headed to Xi U for “drinking buddy” night. When Julie informed me that the event would consist of my sorority sisters each being handcuffed to one of the guys from the hosting fraternity to wander around their frat house all night consuming shots, I laughed. A lot. So much that I pissed her off.

I pissed off Julie quite a bit these days. I didn’t participate in many of the social events, and she couldn’t understand why. For Julie, classes were just something that got in the way of her partying. For me, parties were something to indulge in only after my grades were on lockdown. And that wasn’t often. The coursework for my chemistry major was kicking my ass. I studied every day because I wanted to succeed. I wanted a future in the medical field. I wanted to make a difference.

But studying wasn’t the only reason I steered clear of the parties. Most of the Greek events were far out of my comfort zone.

I was comfortable here. In bed, bottled water next to me, books stacked all around, it was a situation I could control. Julie couldn’t understand my choices because she didn’t know the other side of me.

Back home my losses were my identity. When people crossed paths with me, they offered condolences for Sam. They asked about my dad’s health with a clichéd look of pity on their face and a stereotypical offer of sympathy. They asked because they felt compelled to, but they didn’t really want to hear the truth. They didn’t want to know he was in remission last spring but that we found out a few weeks ago the cancer came back. They didn’t want to know that his joints were often swollen and sometimes all he wanted to do was sleep. They didn’t want to hear about the red splotches all over his skin or that he got infections all the time. They didn’t really care how my family was still so broken and trying to grieve for Sam that we couldn’t even talk about the possibility of losing Dad too.

People asked, but I only told them the truth I thought they could handle, the only one they wanted to hear. Dad was a fighter, and we were pursuing every option available to us.

I went home to visit every other weekend, but I rarely left the house. I spent all my time with my parents. Back home I was the sad girl with a broken heart. People felt sorry for me. I couldn’t bear the pity, so I avoided it.

Here at school my identity was found in my stellar grades and my reliability. I was the steady friend. You could count on me for solid advice. I was the perfect study partner or the person you could confide in. At school I was dependable, strong, and confident—everything I’d always wanted to be. I couldn’t let handcuffs and shots get in the way of any of that. Maybe someday Julie would understand.

My phone vibrated, and like every other time, my heart skipped a beat even though it had to know by now it wasn’t
him
. Liam had never texted, called, or e-mailed after he left for basic training, but that never stopped my heart from wanting to know he was okay. I had texted him twice to check in, once a couple of months after he left and once again about six months ago. I got no response. Not even a “Hey, I’m still alive.”

Even though I knew he didn’t owe me anything anymore, his silence hurt. We’d wounded one another, but that didn’t mean I didn’t still worry about him. It didn’t mean I could just stop thinking about him.

When I went home for the summer last year, I stopped by Sam’s grave on the anniversary of her accident. I was surprised to find a colorful bouquet of flowers filling the vase on her headstone, and I couldn’t help but notice how they almost resembled a rainbow.

He
was the one who put the thought in my head that a rainbow meant Sam was watching over me. Seeing it on her grave on the anniversary of her death… it was definitely one of my weaker moments. I wanted to share the moment with him. Tell him about it. Thank him for helping me see the brightness of my sister’s memory even in the darkest of places.

I called him.

He never picked up.

I was selfish to want the comfort of his voice, especially after I broke up with him. But I missed Liam. I missed him with an ache that never dulled. He was etched into my soul and would stay that way forever even if I never saw him again.

On my weakest days I wondered if I’d done the right thing by breaking up with him. He’d lied to me, and according to my mother, our relationship was beyond taboo. But my heart didn’t care. The problem was, I loved my parents too. My head told me that I couldn’t have Liam and still protect my parents’ feelings. And right now my dad’s health was the most important concern in my life. It had to be.

I looked at my screen. Asher. Not the name I longed to see, but one that made me smile nonetheless.

Asher: What R U up 2 tonight?

Me: Studying! What else? You?

Asher: Headed out with Pickles 2 The Shell. Want 2 join? C’mon, U never come out!

The Shell was the local hangout for sororities and fraternities. Pickles was the nickname of Asher’s fraternity brother, Doug. Pickles was a jackass and oddly enough, dating Taren. I have no idea how someone as nice as her got tangled up with someone as douchey as Pickles. Not only did I
not
want to hang out with him on regular nights, but it was a foregone conclusion he’d be extra annoying tonight since his girlfriend was attending the Xi U party without him.

Me: Sorry, have a huge test to study for. Have fun!

Asher: Ok, pretty girl. G’night.

That was the extent of my relationship with Asher. Easy. We had been hanging out together for a year. We kept things light. We’d made out, but Asher had never pressured me for sex. I brought him to our sorority formals, and he took me to his fraternity date parties. We would meet up at events and sometimes study together at the library. Asher was my friend… who I kissed… but that was it. Strangely enough it worked for both of us.

My phone rang, and without looking, I knew it was my mom calling for our weekly check-in. “Hi, Mom.” I lay back on my pillow and closed my eyes. My head began to pound as it always did during our phone calls. The desire to please her, the need to live up to my parents’ expectations, the worries over my dad’s illness—they were constant pressures that were even more intense with every question I expected her to ask.

“Hello, Alexis. How are you?” Mom’s voice sounded flat and exhausted but still formal.

I touched the rainbow on my bracelet, capturing it between my fingers. “I’m fine. Thanks for the care package. You didn’t have to do that. I just came home last weekend.” I picked up the jar of skittles and grinned. No matter how busy my mom got with my dad, she always sent a care package for me every month. Sometimes she’d even send an extra small, silly one. I wished she wouldn’t worry about me, but it was sweet that she did.

“You’re welcome. Your father and I wanted you to know that we love you.” Mom sighed, and I heard papers being shuffled. I pictured her sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by insurance bills and medical reports. The guilt inside me grew. I should be there, helping her. My head pounded harder, and for a moment I wished I
was
handcuffed to a fraternity boy, guzzling shots of rum, clueless as to what was happening at home.

“How’s Dad feeling today?”

“Not great, honey. We met with his doctors today and he’s not…” She sniffled.

I inhaled sharply, and my breath was trapped in my chest as I waited for her to finish. Mom never liked to talk about Dad’s health over the phone. She was always adamant I stay focused on school.

“He’s not responding to the treatments anymore,” she finally said. “The doctors suggest we focus more on palliative care going forward.”

I sat straight up in bed. “Meaning?” The word came out weak and fragile. I knew what palliative care meant. I just couldn’t force it to make sense with what she was saying.

Mom sighed. “He’ll still get chemo, radiation, and blood transfusions, but they will be used to help manage his pain and let him enjoy the time we have left.”

I bit my lip until I tasted blood. “The time we have left?” My voice cracked, and I struggled to regain my composure. “They’re just giving up?”

“His cancer is too advanced, Alexis. I know you don’t want to accept this, I don’t either, but Dad’s not going to get better. There is no cure for him.” Her voice was off, and I could tell she was holding back tears. “We just have to… make the best of the time we have left.”

My vision went dark, and I could hear my own heart pounding in my chest.

“How long?” I managed to say.

She was quiet, but I could almost hear her struggling to keep herself in one piece.

“No one knows for sure. At the very least six months but likely no more than a year.” Mom finally broke down, her composure crumbling into sobs she tried to keep quiet.

No more than a year?
He’d never get to see me graduate college… never get to walk me down the aisle at my wedding… never hold my newborn child. A year and so many nevers. It wasn’t fair.

My own tears ran rampant down my face as I focused on taking even breaths. “I want to come home. I should be with you both right now,” I cried. “Come get me. I want to be home.”

Mom cleared her throat, forcing the sorrow out of her voice. “Absolutely not. Focus on your classes. Be a regular college student. That’s what your father wants. You know that.” She paused. “I’ll pick you up next weekend. Okay?”

“No. It’s not okay. I want to see him. I want to see you. I want to help…” I felt as heartbroken and alone as when I got the news about Sam.

She cursed under her breath, which was so unlike my mom. “Your father was right. He didn’t want me to tell you. He didn’t want you to know yet. He doesn’t want you focusing on him,” she muttered. “But I thought you deserved to know all the information, Alexis.” Her voice got stronger, more demanding. “Don’t fall apart now. I need you with me. Focus on your future so your father can focus on staying healthy. If you come home now, the guilt will wreck him. He’ll worry about you.”

I didn’t want to make things worse for my dad. Was it fair to go home to ease my pain if it made things harder for him? At least at school, as bad as it felt to admit, I could breathe. I could throw myself into my studies and forget. I could pretend that there was hope things could get better.

“Okay?” Mom repeated louder, and I realized she’d asked it several times.

I shook my head.
Focus, Alexis
. “Okay. Next weekend.”

“We have to be strong for him, for each other.” It was almost a question.

Sometimes I forgot she wasn’t as put together as she always appeared. That deep down she was as messy and sad as I was. And I realized she’d called to tell me about my dad because she needed me to share the pain, to help her bear it.

“I know, Mom. I love you. And miss you. Kiss Dad for me?”

“Of course.” Mom’s voice broke. “I love you too, Alexis. I’ll see you next weekend.”

She hung up, and I flung my phone to the side, my gaze falling to the bracelet I never took off and the curve of colors that represented so much comfort and hope.

What am I going to do, Sam? I don’t want to lose Daddy. I’ll never be ready. I already have too many nevers with you.

***

The Good Buddies program was exactly what I needed to get my mind off my dad. Each year the Tri-Gams supported a charity, and this year we’d chosen Good Buddies. We were each going to be paired with a person who had a developmental, intellectual, or physical disability. We’d pledged to spend time with our buddy and create friendships. I was really looking forward to meeting a new friend.

Taren, Julie, and I entered the conference room and found our philanthropy chair, Kate, to get our assignments.

“Ah, Taren. Great,” she said, scanning her list and tapping a name with her pencil. “Your buddy is waiting for you right now. He’s seated at the last table on the left.” She pointed toward the other end of the room. “Go over and introduce yourself.”

Taren waved good-bye and walked down the aisle toward a tall man who sat alone at a table.

“Julie, hang on. I don’t see your assigned buddy here.” Kate looked through the sheets of paper hooked to her clipboard.

“Fantastic,” Julie huffed and flopped down into a chair.

“Alexis, you’re matched with Stacy McGee.” Kate pointed to a couch on the opposite side of the room where a woman with short brown hair sat, staring right at me. Kate leaned close to my ear. “She has Down syndrome, lives at home with her parents, and works here on campus in one of the dining halls. I think you’ll like her.”

“Got it.” I nodded and walked toward Stacy.

I was excited to be working with the Good Buddies program at College Park. Spending my time bringing companionship to someone with special needs was another great way to distract me from my own problems. I liked the idea that I could do something good for someone else.

As I got closer, I noticed Stacy’s attire. Her shoes were purple with red shoelaces, and her socks were yellow. She had on green pants and an orange shirt. Her glasses were a bright blue, and she wore dark pink lipstick.