Thirty Nights (American Beauty #1)(78)
Top of the World
The Range Rover flies past all city exits, heading east toward Mount Hood and the airport. The moment I see the reflective green sign boasting PORTLAND INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, I shiver.
“Aiden, you’re not flying us anywhere abroad, are you?” My voice starts trembling because this is exactly the kind of thing he would do. Hydrogen, 1.008. Helium—
He chuckles, reaching over and squeezing my knee. “No, little refugee, I’m not. Somehow I didn’t think you wanted to leave the States just yet.”
I slump in the leather seat, taking a deep breath. He keeps his eyes on the road, checking the back mirror every few minutes and stealing glances at me. In the few moments that our eyes meet, I notice that the blue depths are calm. Then occasionally, at no apparent trigger, they brew again. The tectonic plates seem to have three settings: shifting when he is remembering, stilling when he is thinking, and locking. Locking is rare. I only witnessed it earlier today when he talked about injuring me or his mum.
I watch the last rays of sun fracturing on his skin with a million questions raging in my brain. How did this all start for him? What would fix it? How do I convince him to stay with me?
Perhaps feeling my gaze burning a hole in his lovely cheek, he peers at me. “What are you thinking so hard about?”
“All the questions I have about you.”
I was expecting immediate shutdown but to my surprise, he nods. “That’s the point for tonight. So that you can finally question what you see and hear.”
At the answer, I almost decide not to ask anything but as any scientist will tell you, leaving a question unasked is a bigger sin with our lot than leaving it unanswered.
“Well?” he prompts.
“I’m afraid of asking something that would be too hard for you to relive.” And too hard for me to hear.
He nods. “You should be afraid of that. But don’t worry, I would stop you. I don’t want that shit polluting your head. Or mine for that matter.”
It’s a twisted thing to give me relief but it still does.
“Well, I was wondering why you joined the Marine Corps to begin with? I mean, with your memory…it seems like such an enormous risk to take with your life.”
He shrugs. “We’re all invincible at eighteen. I finished college-level math by fifth grade, Elisa. What lure could academics possibly have held for me? The military, on the other hand, was knocking on our door daily. At first sergeants, then lieutenants, then General Sartain.”
“Who?”
He waves his hand dismissively. “He’s a big shot in the CIA. Anyway, I started having vague fantasies of being some type of James Bond.”
“But you never went into intelligence?”
“Started to.” His words become clipped, guarded.
“But then?”
He takes a deep breath, his eyes firmly on the road although with his memory, who knows if he is really looking. “But then 9/11 happened. There wasn’t a single Marine in the Corps that didn’t want to avenge it.” His voice hardens.
I remember watching the Twin Towers, huddled on the couch between Mum and Dad in our cottage. “That’s the kind of evil science can’t explain,” Dad said.
Aiden’s fingers brush against my cheek. “Are you okay?” he asks gently.
I look up at him and nod. He smiles. “Good. It worries me when you’re so quiet.”
“Would you have done it again?”
He looks back at the road. The sun has set now, and it’s darker in the car. Minutes tick in the dashboard clock. 8:29, 8:31.
“We all want second chances,” he says at last. His voice is a mix of anger and regret.
I take his answer as confirmation but I cannot fathom his words. What would he have done with his second chance that would have been worth this hell twice around?
I shiver and look out the window. We are racing through the Columbia River Gorge now, the cavernous canyon between Oregon and Washington. The sharp, craggy peaks of the Cascades pierce the skies. There are no longer lights around. Only a dark, quiet beauty.
Aiden’s index finger comes under my chin and I turn to face him. He is smiling. “Were those all your questions? Some scientist you are.”
“I was just thinking of what I would have done to stop you from ever joining the Corps in the first place,” I whisper, afraid of making him angry with my wish to take away all his chances, let alone the second.
But there is no anger on his face. His smile becomes a grin. “Well, for you, it wouldn’t have taken much. Just showing up naked and being chained to my bed. Eighteen-year-old Aiden would have lost his shit over you.” He winks. “I suppose I have not changed much.”
He shakes his head in mock horror but I am floating. Does that mean he is losing his shit over me now? Who needs poetry. “I was thinking more along the lines of lying in front of the plane that shipped you off but chained to your bed seems marginally better.”
“You sound like my mother. Minus the bed part, of course.” He pauses as though deciding whether to say something. “She did come,” he adds, his voice now very soft.
“Your mum?”
He nods. “Yes. The day I was deployed to Afghanistan, she came to the airbase in Monterey where I had just finished intelligence school. How she got in, I still don’t know. She was a mess. Begged me not to go—grabbed me right here…” His hand flies to his shirt collar. “Of course, I was appalled at having to deal with a hysterical mother when all the other Marines were loading up. The rest is history—well, technically with me, nothing is history,” he adds, his voice dry. I wish I could see his eyes.