North Carolina: A State of Change, a Changing State
met. I had to remind him that was how you address women officers, not correct protocol for a fellow grunt. Was Cheeser going goofy on me? I shrugged, made the what-the-fuck face. “Okay,” I said. Cheeser nodded, took a swig from his canteen. Worked his tongue around his lips. Slipped off his Boonie cap the offhand way we had, slapping at a gnat. Leaned toward me business-like and lifted mine off. My hair fell over my face and I eyed him up through it. I began breathing harder, too. Not the hots for Cheeser. More that he was getting ready for something big and I was his leading lady. He leaned further, pressed his hair against my brow, let the weight of his forehead grow against me until he rested easy. Our breath mingled, and I drew the warmth of it in through my nostrils, thought of Fiona, shamed to say. I squared my head as he gently brushed his lips on mine and finished with a plink, a drop of water separating from a faucet. He drew back and breathed through his mouth for a minute, not wanting to lose the taste of it, I guess. “Thanks,” he whispered as softly as the kiss. “You’re welcome. Embrace the suck, Cheeser. Only way to get through Groundhog Day.” That kiss? Under the stars that shine over in Kandahar and right here in Fayetteville? That gets the Silver Medal. If kisses were birds, that was a hummingbird. Something soft and floating in the world, not all weight and burden. You could make some crazy-ass connection in the most God-forsaken place. Maybe it was something similar with Marla.
Collection of Children’s Hospital of Alabama, Birmingham, AL
Drawn Conclusions (acrylic and oil on canvas, 48x66) by Robert Tynes
N C L R ONLINE
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I rose from the sofa, carried the cake tray into the kitchen, set it on the counter. Fiona was washing dishes. “Leave them for Tony,” I said. “Care to help? Get done quicker.” “Can’t. Headed out to the Reveille with Marla.” She rinsed the dish, placed it in the drain board, then turned and gazed at me for a long moment. “You guys socialize?” “She needs a shoulder to cry on. Talk to you this weekend, munchkin.” “Okie-dokie,” she said and motioned with her head toward the dining room where Beth sat by herself. She turned back to the dishes. Her back put me in mind of the time when she’d hauled me into my birthday party. She worked her elbows and hands, removed something from a dish looked like crusted icing. She raised it to the light, inspected, returned it to the water, scrubbed again. I fished out a knife from the dinnerware drawer, picked up the tray, and stepped into the dining room. Beth lowered her eyes to the last piece of cake. “Babette, sweetie, what’s this?” “I was going to eat it myself, but I thought we’d share. Peace?” She shouted “Peace!” I sat down and cut the piece into two small slivers. As we stuffed our mouths, Beth’s eyes teared up. “What’s wrong?” “He’s with her,” she whispered. “Who’s with who?” “Dennis. My husband. He’s with someone. I know it. He’s been seeing her for months.” I came around in front of Beth, held her by the shoulders, and locked her gaze. “What?” she said. “Don’t live like this. You’re going home tonight to confront him.” “What do I say? I want to kill him. We were planning a family.” “Walk in and start moving your lips. Shoot the elephant.” “What?” “The elephant in the room.” As I explained, Beth nodded through her tears. After a minute, she looked up at me. “Yes,” she said. “But I’m scared.” She got up. “It’s now or never.” I thought of Marla, tried to hold onto to Beth’s shoulders. “Calm down first. Have a cup of tea.” But she was already moving toward the front door. n