Between Here and the Horizon(63)
“Why so?”
“Because I work my hide off to make sure no one sees me at all, most days, Miss Ophelia Lang from California. I’ve been told in the past that trying to get a clear read on me is like trying to see a clear picture through a kaleidoscope. And a f*cked up, broken kaleidoscope at that.”
I laughed, imagining who might have told him such a thing. Some poor, heartbroken local? Some young, doe-eyed tourist, hoping to turn a holiday romance into something a little more concrete? Sully was the kind of man to ruin a vacation, and all vacations for the rest of time, the moment you laid eyes on him.
“I guess the question is, do you want anyone to see you clearly, Sully?” I made sure my tone was light, the question clearly rhetorical. Keeping my head down, I ate while Sully sat next to me, stewing. I could feel him struggling to figure out what he wanted to say. I half expected him to snap and tell me to mind my own damn business, but he didn’t. After a long, long dip in the conversation, Sully finally picked up his fork and considered it. Quietly, under his breath, he spoke. “You said just now that I must have loved Magda very much. It took me a long time to realize it, but I never loved her. You can’t love something that isn’t real. Someone that exists only in your head. She was beautiful, and she was kind in her own way, but she floated along, being whatever she thought everyone else needed her to be. And in the end, she didn’t have a personality of her own. She was a mirror, reflecting back at you what you wanted to see. That’s it. That’s all. An empty, sad shell of a person, waiting to be filled up by someone else. So, no, I didn’t love her very much. I loved the idea of her. The reality was grossly underwhelming.” He stabbed at his shells, spiking the pasta onto the tines, scooping up the meat, and he ate. He didn’t say another word on the matter.
I cleaned up the plates and I left, telling him I’d be back again the same time tomorrow. Hours later, in bed, too tired to sleep and too awake to dream, my cell phone buzzed on my nightstand, lighting up the room.
It was from Sully. Or, as he’d apparently named himself in my phone, the hottest guy in the world.
Such an *.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Afghanistan
2009
Sully
The Italians were dropping mortars again. They were meant to send an envoy to the base at least three hours ahead of any assault planned on suburban areas of the city, a common courtesy to let us know as and when we should be relocating our troops away of hot zones, however no one had shown up with intel the last few times, and tensions between camps were running high. Even radioing across would have done the trick, but the Euro guys were all sick of the double standard (we never told them when we were planning a strike, either), and so they’d made it plain they were done playing nicey-nicey with us. Fucking ridiculous that we were all here for the same reason, and we still couldn’t get along.
I loved having the Italians around, though. They were the only ones who could sneak hard liquor in-country, and they were always happy to trade for cigarettes and whatever porn files were stored on the unit’s shared drive at the time. That was a lot of porn.
I ran across the base, flinching every time the high-pitched whine of a mortar whistled overhead, cursing their names today, however. I ran past one of the first lieutenants from C company heading in the opposite direction, some maverick kid from Alabama who’d probably be running this whole show some day. He slowed, saluting me. “They’re buzzing the fences today, Captain. That’s a hell of a lot of flack from the hills over there, too. Whitlock’s gonna be out, looking to spank some asses tonight!”
I laughed, turning to run backward. “You seen my brother, Lieutenant? Can’t seem to find him anywhere.”
The lieutenant rocked his head to one side, studying me. “Begging your pardon for asking, sir, but which one are you again? I’ll be damned, but I can never tell.”
“Sully,” I replied, grinning to show there was no harm done.
“Ahh. You got any tips for differentiating you two, huh, Captain? Might make life a little easier for the rest of us out here.”
I shrugged. “Sorry, man. There’s only one way to tell us apart, and I don’t think it’s gonna be much help to you.”
“Try me.”
“Well, my dick is obviously way bigger than his,” I said, laughing. “That’s how the girls at high school always told us apart, anyway.” In truth, Magda was the only girl who’d even seen my dick. And Ronan’s was probably exactly the same size as mine, down to the millimeter. Not that we’d compared, of course. That would have been weird. Our hands, our feet, our shoulders, our waists—everything else was exactly the same, though. Why would our cocks be any different?
The first lieutenant laughed. “Well, in any case, the other Captain Fletcher just left a briefing with the colonel. I heard Whitlock’s intelligence guy complaining about how long their meeting was. Your brother’s probably somewhere recovering from the ear chewing he just got served.”
Colonel Whitlock wore his eagle with pride. He was a concise, no-nonsense, efficient leader with a shitty attitude, but he got the job done. It wasn’t easy overseeing an operation like this, out in the middle of nowhere with limited resources and a whole city full of locals who all wanted you dead. The only time he ever kept the clock running in his office was when he was reprimanding someone. You f*cked up and you knew you were spending the better part of a day inside Whitlock’s office with your pants around your ankles, receiving the hiding of your life.