Purple Hearts(95)

“Call me from the road.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“Te amo, Cass. Play well.”

? ? ?

An hour later, it was time for Fleetwood Friday. A very special Fleetwood Friday, Nora and I had decided, full of good-luck rituals and silver confetti and candles. We draped the concrete walls of her basement in a gauzy fabric we found in the bargain bin at Goodwill on North Lamar. We hung strings of beads from the pipes. Before we signed the contracts we had printed out and set in the middle of the floor, before we rented the U-Haul to load up, before we started our new lives as professional musicians, we’d play whatever we wanted, for the hell of it, for hours on end. We’d play Rumours all the way through, in whatever wonky, champagne-soaked way we felt like.

Nora had brought three bottles of champagne, one for each of us. We popped them, swigged, and got set up.

“Should we begin?” Nora said. “Or did you two need a moment?”

I looked at Toby, who rolled his eyes, testing his bass drum louder than necessary. “We’ll probably need a few moments at some point,” I said. “But not now.”

Nora raised her eyebrows, not able to hide her pleasure.

“We’ll be fine,” Toby called over his beats. “Come on, let’s just play.”

I lit a joint and let it hang from my mouth while I played, Marlon Brando style. I started to forage for the notes that said Yes, we’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Of course, I couldn’t find them. There was another, stronger feeling that was taking priority. The Loyal would be fine, but would I? Would Luke?

Toby banged out a couple of triplets to move it along. Nora plunked a minor string to act as the spine. Without words to carry us over the brink into our new lives, the sorrow of what was behind us and the joy of what lay ahead, we played together instead.





Luke


“Ready, Mittens?” What a stupid question. I was poised with the neon-pink Buda Municipal Fire Department Frisbee; her snout was raised, eyes glued, tail wiggling. Of course she was ready.

“Go!” I launched it high, almost wishing it would sail over the fence this time.

Mittens beat it at an angle, leaping like a wonder dog.

My wonder dog. I would miss her.

We were in my dad’s backyard. Jake and Hailey would bring JJ out in a second, once they got the brownie stain off his suit. Dad was standing next to Lieutenant Colonel Yarvis in his old uniform, hands clasped in front of him, watching Mittens run around in circles. I was wearing my uniform today.

It was weird to have it on again. I wore it at my graduation from boot camp, for special events at the base in Afghanistan. In the dorms, at Frankie’s house, on planes—this uniform had hung next to Frankie’s.

His family had received their Purple Heart in the mail.

“We’re back!” Hailey said, JJ in a piggyback ride. “Don’t kick Mommy’s dress, please,” she cooed.

“Okay, Yarvis, I’m ready when you are.”

Turns out soldiers who were under investigation could still receive the Purple Heart, just not in the fancy army-sanctioned ceremony. That was just fine with me. All things considered, I wasn’t really one for official ceremonies.

I just wished Cassie could be here.

We gathered in the middle of the lawn. Dad lifted JJ from Hailey’s back.

“Wait,” Jake said. “Let me grab the camera.”

We stood, quiet, JJ making cooing noises. A motorcycle rumbled by. Someone across the way was having a barbecue.

Yarvis looked at me. “You given any thought to what you want to do after you beat this thing?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I told Yarvis.

I glanced at my dad, who was staring off into space. Though he’d agreed to be here, to host us, I feared he was doing it only because Jake had asked him to.

Every word he had spoken to me since I was released was clipped, laced with the possibility that I could fuck up again any minute. Do you have any “conflicts” for the afternoon of the gathering Jake has planned for you? Do you know what disappointment feels like?

But that was to be expected. No matter how little faith he had in me now, he had the capacity for more. Everyone did. I wouldn’t give up.

I turned to Yarvis again. “You said y’all only have two social workers for hundreds of families, right?”

Yarvis nodded. “Regretfully.”

“Well, maybe you could use one more.” It was an idea that had been sitting in the back of my head since I sat in the holding cell.

He patted me on the back, grinning. “That sounds like a fantastic idea,” he replied.

“Maybe I could work with vets who struggle with addiction.”

Yarvis agreed again, naming some programs and schools I should check out. Dad kept his gaze forward, but I could tell he was listening.

“Okay!” Jake said, jogging back from his car in a suit, holding his camera.

Yarvis cleared his throat, and brought a small square box out of his pocket.

“The Purple Heart is given to soldiers wounded or killed in the line of duty. It is a symbol of courage and sacrifice. Today, we award Private First Class Luke Morrow, active—soon to be inactive—member of the United States Army Thirty-fourth Red Horse Infantry Division.”

Yarvis took the medal out of the box and handed the box to Hailey, who teared up. “Though off the battlefield, Luke, let’s be honest, you can be kind of a dumdum.”