Something Like Normal(44)

In the corner of the room a band plays a reggae-fied version of one of the sad Beatles songs, and the people dotting the room are dressed in everything from dark business suits to tie-dyed hippie skirts with those jingly ankle bracelets. There’s even one woman with bare feet. She’s got about half a dozen plastic grocery bags draped over her arm and she looks as if she hasn’t showered in a while, so she might be a homeless lady Charlie’s mom invited in for a free meal.

“Here’s the man.” Kevlar whacks me on the back as I walk up. He smells like whiskey. “How’s it going, Solo? Did you bring the whip?” He giggles. “Because you’re whipped. Get it?”

“That was weak, Kenneth,” I say as I shake hands all around. “Get back to me when you’ve got something original.”

“Whatever.” He works his tongue into the empty space where his dip would be, making his lower lip stick out. “Where’s your girl?”

“Ladies’ room,” I say. “But she’s kind of pissed at me right now.”

“What’d you do?” Moss asks.

“I hooked up with my ex.”

“The”—Kevlar air-mimes an enormous rack in front of his chest—“that ex?” I might not have carried around a picture of Paige, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t describe her.

“That’s the one,” I say.

“How’d she find out?” he asks.

My face goes hot as I admit I told her.

“Solo…” Kevlar shakes his head at me. “For a smart guy, you can be such a dumbass.”

I don’t tell him I didn’t have much of a choice.

“Don’t listen to him,” Moss says. “Messing with your ex when you’ve got a good thing going is a bonehead move, but telling her the truth is the honorable thing.”

“Honorable, my ass.” Marv leans forward and pokes me in the chest with his finger with each word. “It’s plain and simple stupid. What she don’t know don’t hurt her. Period.”

“So if your girl stepped out on you while we were in Cali last year for training, you wouldn’t want to know about it?” Ski is always the devil’s advocate in an argument, especially with Marv, who gets worked up easily.

Marv’s forehead wrinkles as his eyebrows pull together. “You know something I don’t?”

Ski laughs. “It’s a hypothetical.”

“A hypo-what?”

“A what-if, you retard.”

“Oh. Well, that’s different,” Marv says. “I’d want to know if she’s been playing me for a fool while I was gone. And I’d beat the crap out of the guy she’s been banging.”

“So why doesn’t Solo’s girl deserve to know?”

“Is that how you got the fresh black eye?” Kevlar asks. “Harper punch you again?”

“No, my brother hit me when he caught me with his girlfriend,” I admit, which cracks them all up. And it would be funny, if Harper didn’t hate me. Thinking about her makes me feel like my insides are nothing but a series of knots, and it makes me not want to be here right now.

“Stephenson, you got a second?” Peralta asks, like he’s reading my mind. His voice is quiet. Even when he was pissed at us he rarely raised it. We step away from the others. “You doing okay?”

“Just suffering from a raging case of stupidity.”

Even his laugh is quiet. We walk in silence for a few beats. “Are you… getting things squared away?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

If he knows I’m lying, Peralta doesn’t mention it.

“Listen,” he says. “I just wanted to let you know that Leonard volunteered you for bomb dog school.”

“Me?” I deflate a little. It’s not like my plan for doing the recon course was set in stone, but training to be a bomb dog handler isn’t something I’ve ever considered.

“He asked me to recommend someone,” Peralta says. “I chose you because I know you’ll do a good job… and I think it could help you.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

He smiles and pats me on the shoulder. “Consider yourself voluntold, but trust me on this, okay?”

Harper comes back into the banquet room as Charlie’s mom and a small blond woman I’m guessing is Jenny step up to a podium with a microphone. “Welcome, everyone. If you’ll all take a seat, we’ll begin in a moment.”

The undercurrent of conversation ebbs away as everyone finds a chair, the Marines a solid row in front. I leave a seat on the end for Harper. Her thigh touches against mine when she sits and even after she shifts away it feels warm, like it’s still there.

“Thank you,” Charlie’s mom says, reaching out to take the blond woman’s hand. “Jenny and I thank you all for coming today and sharing in the celebration of our son’s life.”

Kevlar turns and makes a did-you-know-about-this? face, but I shrug my shoulder a little in a silent get over it.

Ellen talks for a while, taking us back to when Charlie was a little kid and was horrified to find flamingo on the menu at a restaurant—it was really filet mignon. I didn’t know that kid, but I envy his life because even though his mom is a little strange, they were connected in a way I’ve never been with my parents. They did things together. Went places that didn’t involve football.