Home Front(28)

Just the thought of it overwhelmed him.

“How the hell am I supposed to do it?” he said, turning to her. “I’ve got a job to do.”

“Your mom will be a huge help. She said she’ll hire someone for the store, and that’s perfect. I don’t want a nanny taking care of the girls—they’ll be so scared and confused,” Jolene said. “Especially Betsy, she’s fragile these days, and kids can be cruel. She’ll need you, Michael. They both will. You’ll have to be really present. I want—”

“You want.” Already he was losing patience with that sentence. “Classic, Jo. You’re the one leaving—but not before you tell me how you want me to handle things while you’re gone.”

“Not things, Michael. My children.”

He heard the way her voice broke on that and knew how deeply his words had cut her. Not that long ago, he would have turned to her and taken her in his arms and apologized. Now, he just stood there, dropping his chin forward, staring dully at the scuffed hardwood floor beneath his stockinged feet. The echo of that word—divorce—hung like smoke in the air between them.

She waited a long time. Her breath sounded like waves breaking along a shore, ragged and uneven. He could feel her judging him. Then, quietly, she left the room.

*



On Monday morning, Tami showed up after carpool, and honked her horn.

Jolene walked down the driveway and climbed into her friend’s big white truck.

They looked at each other, and in that look—unaccompanied by words—they revealed their fears, their hopes, their worries.

Tami sighed. “How was it?”

“Brutal,” Jolene said. “For you?”

“I barely survived.” She put the truck in reverse and backed down the driveway. In no time, they were speeding down the interstate toward Tacoma.

“Seth tried to act cool when I told him,” Tami said after an unfamiliar silence that had gone on for miles. “He asked what would happen if I didn’t come back. He’s not even thirteen. He’s not supposed to have to ask his mom a question like that.”

“Betsy was pissed off. She said she wouldn’t forgive me if I left her. That I love the army more than I love her.”

“Carl cried,” Tami said softly after another long silence. “I’ve never seen him cry before. It was like…” Her voice broke. “Man, this is hard.”

Jolene swallowed the lump in her throat. “What’s worse,” she said quietly, “a man who cries when you go to war or one who doesn’t?”

At that, they both fell silent. The miles passed quickly, and in no time, they were at the post, driving up to the checkpoint.

They handed over their IDs, nodded to the soldier, and drove onto the post.

In the hallway outside the Black Hawk classroom, they found several members of the unit seated in chairs along the wall. No one was saying much of anything, except for the younger men, who seemed amped up and eager. Smitty—young, young Smitty, with his braces and pimples and puppy-dog buoyancy—was grinning, going from man to man, asking what combat was like, saying they were going to kick some ass over there. Jolene wondered how his mother felt right now …

Jolene and Tami leaned back against the concrete-block wall, waiting their turns.

The classroom door opened. Jamie Hix strode out. His army-issue hair—short and dirty blond—stood up from his tanned, broad forehead. Lines fanned out from the corners of his gray eyes—they were new, those lines, etched in the days since their deployment had been announced. No doubt he was thinking about his young son. Would his ex-wife use this deployment to take his son away from him? “Your turn, Jo,” he said.

With a nod, Jolene walked into the classroom, where she found a man in dress uniform seated at a long desk with papers spread out in front of him.

“Chief Zarkades?” he said, looking up at her. “At ease. Have a seat. I’m Captain Reynolds. Jeff.”

She sat down in a chair facing him, her back ramrod straight, her hands in her lap.

He pushed a stack of papers toward her. “Your family plan is in place. Your daughters, Elizabeth Andrea Zarkades and Lucy Louida Zarkades, will be cared for by your husband, Michael Andreas Zarkades. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your mother-in-law is also available, I see.”

“Yes, sir.”

The lawyer looked down at the paper, tapped his pen. “Deployment can be difficult on a marriage, Chief. Is there any cause to worry about this plan?”

“No, sir,” Jolene said.

The captain looked up. “Do you have a will?”

“Yes, sir. I’m married to an attorney, sir.”

“Good.” He pushed a stack of papers toward her. “Sign and date your family plan. And the funeral arrangement addendum. I assume you want Michael notified in the case of your death. Anyone else?”

“No, sir.”

“Okay, then, Chief. That’s all. Dismissed.”

She stood. “Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, Chief? We recommend you write letters … to your loved ones.”

Jolene nodded. Letters. Good-byes. They recommended she write letters in which she said good-bye to the people she loved most in this world. She tried to imagine that … Betsy opening a letter one day in the blurry future, seeing her mother’s handwriting, reading her last words—and what would they be, those last words, written now, before she knew all that she had to say, before they’d had this lifetime together? Lulu would be crying, wailing, yelling, What? She’s gone where? her small heart-shaped face scrunching up, tears forming in her dark eyes as she tried to understand what that even meant.