Something Like Normal(26)

There’s a picture of Ski shaving, his mirror propped on a dirt wall, using bottled water to rinse. He liked to sing when he shaved, but always used the wrong words. The one that always made us laugh the most was when he sang “I’m not big on sausage gravy” in that Garth Brooks low places song.

I’m watching a video of my squad firing on a Taliban sniper position—I remember a bullet skimming just inches over the top of my helmet—when my bedroom door opens.

“Why are you here?” I ask, watching Moss as he darts around the end of a dirt wall and opens fire. It’s so weird to see us doing the things we’ve already done. It’s weird that these moments in time have been captured and people looking at them don’t even know that Charlie is dead.

“How’d you know it was me?” Paige’s hands slide down my chest from behind, her Lara Croft ponytail falling over my shoulder. I hate that she still has this much effect on me.

“You didn’t knock.” My eyes are on the video until the last second as she turns my face toward her, and then she’s all lips and tongue and… I know I have got to stop doing this. But I don’t.

Charlie was with me the day her letter arrived in a care package. I let him read it after the other guys had distributed the porn and cigarettes like Christmas Day. “That’s pretty cold, Solo.” Charlie passed me his cigarette and I took a long drag.

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s Paige.”

“You gonna be okay?” he asked. “Do you need a hug or something?”

I chuckled a little. “Nah, I’m good.”

In-country, I was good. On the other side of the world, none of the drama could touch me. Now that I’m back and she’s here, I’m not sure how I feel about her. But that’s probably because I just got laid and my brain is butter.

“Paige?”

“Hmmm?” She doesn’t open her eyes.

“You don’t want to get back together, do you?”

“Oh, God, no.” She laughs softly, making the bed vibrate. “Is that what you thought?”

“No.”

“It’s only sex, Travis.”

“You think Ryan would think that?” I stand up and pull on my shorts. The need to flee overwhelms me. I don’t like who I am with her. This shit has to stop.

“He doesn’t have to know.”

“Not the point.” Rummaging through my desk drawers, I search until I find a blank CD and slide it into my computer. “Why are you in my room right now instead of his?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Probably because you never say no.”

“Time for you to leave.” The laptop drive whirs, burning the downloaded photos onto the disk as I put my T-shirt back on. Paige makes no move to leave. “Now.”

“What did the Marines do to you, Trav?” she asks. “You used to be a lot more fun.”

I hit the eject and the CD slides out. Slapping my back pocket to make sure my wallet is there, I step barefoot into the new Sambas my mom bought and head for the door.

“Let yourself out,” I say. “And don’t forget to put the key back where you found it.”

I drive to the twenty-four-hour Walgreens up on San Carlos, where they have one of those do-it-yourself photo kiosks. The store is empty except for the cashier, who is sitting on the checkout counter, her tanned legs dangling over the edge. On her feet are a pair of familiar cowboy boots. Lacey Ellison.

We rode the same bus in middle school and I remember her stop was beside a crummy trailer park next to the bridge to Fort Myers Beach. No one wanted to sit beside her because she smelled like pee and Michalski called her FBK—short for Free Breakfast Kid—because she was poor enough to be on the breakfast plan. Back then she used to charge five dollars to make out with her behind the portables. Now she’s already starting to look rough and she’s barely legal.

“Hey, Lace.”

“Travis Stephenson.” She hops off the counter and puts her hand in the middle of my chest, all five foot nothing of her blocking my path to the photo machine. “A word.”

“Sure.”

“Harper told me you went to the beach with her the other night.”

“I did,” I say. “That a problem?”

“Not yet.”

“What are you getting at?”

“She’s my friend, Travis,” she says. “Amber and me… well, Harper isn’t the same as us at all, but she doesn’t judge. She’s the best person I know, and if you break her heart, I will kill you.”

I grin at her. “Duly noted, ma’am.”

“I’m serious!” She tries to shove me, but she’s not strong enough. Her fierce sincerity is cool, though, and I respect it. “Just don’t.”

I nod. “I won’t.”

“That’s what you say.” Lacey lifts herself back onto the counter. “But don’t forget what happened the last time she let you kiss her.”

A very good point.

She doesn’t disturb me while I’m making prints from the downloaded images, but she gives me a free bottle of Coke after about an hour.

“This is broken.” She points to a minor indentation on the bottom of the bottle. No sign of leakage. “If you don’t drink it, I’m going to have to throw it away.”