Chapter Nine
Dear Grace,
I think what you feel on my letters is dust. I’m bummed that it is on my letters to you. They say it’s sand, but it’s finer than that. It’s like the particles that make up the sand, and it is everywhere. When you get home on leave and wash for the first time, you have to stand under the water for at least twenty minutes, all the while watching the black dust collect and pool at your feet, creating coffee-colored water that swirls down the drain.
I don’t think you can ever fully erase the dust from your belongings. It sticks with you no matter how long you let the water wash over you or how many times you wipe it away. Like the tension I have in being weaponless and exposed back home, the dust is one of the many things I’ll carry with me when I’m out.
I’m sorry that it is invading your space now through my letters. It’s like I’m spreading a contaminant. Am I Patient Zero, or are you?
I probably shouldn’t have volunteered for a third tour, but combat pay is hard to turn down. After three years here, though, I feel like I am a loosely contained conglomerate of those particles of dust.
Yours,
Noah
Grace
I got a text that my ride would arrive in fifteen minutes. I rushed around and threw together a change of clothing and toiletries, which I stuffed into a backpack that wasn’t full of my camera equipment. I then pulled on a pair of jeans, flats, and my State T-shirt. Over that, I wore a State replica jersey that had my brother’s name and number ironed on the back. I wrote a quick note for Lana:
Off to see Josh play today. Won’t be back until tomorrow. ~ G
My ride was a couple. They had agreed to drive me in exchange for tickets to the game. I wasn’t sure if they were Josh’s tickets or someone else’s. The girl told me she was hung over and planned to sleep the entire ride, which sounded like a pretty awesome plan to me. Alone in the back seat, I closed my eyes and was out before the car even left the city limits.
Once we got there, they dropped me off at the gate and went to park.
Not a skin suit yet, I texted impulsively to Noah. I almost wished I had taken him up on his invitation to come with me.
I received an immediate response. They could be saving their gruesome acts until the ride home.
I took a picture of their license plate. You know what to do if I don’t show up at the library on Sunday. I sent Noah the picture I had taken.
Don’t mock me. Rather have a pic of you.
Like Lana, I had my own body insecurities and preferred to be on the other side of the camera. The lens side.
Can’t. Never learned how to take selfie.
Noah replied with a picture of Finn and Bo wrestling a keg into place in what must be Noah’s backyard. Party won’t be good without you.
Are you camera shy too?
Nah, just withholding the good stuff ‘til I see you.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder?
If that’s true, I expect a really warm welcome when you get back tomorrow.
We were flirting. Even a dunderhead like me could pick that up. Giddiness spread through my body, and, while I missed Noah, I realized that I needed this. This small separation reminded me of what it was like when Noah had sent me that Dear Jane letter telling me we should just be friends. I remembered how empty I had felt after that letter, an emptiness that Noah filled when I saw him again on campus. It was easy to be prickly within his steady presence, but now that we were away once more, I realized how much I wanted to be with him.
When I got back, it would be no more games. I would tell him straight out how much he hurt me, how much I wanted him, and how scared I was. Then the ball would be in his court.
I realized then that is what I should do with the Art program, too. I needed to stop living the fear of failure. By not submitting my photographs to be reviewed, I was guaranteeing my continued failure, just like Lana had said. Sure it was easy to say that photography was just my hobby or that I didn’t want to infect it with money. But I needed to grow up and accept my lumps, whatever they may be. I had survived one break-up with Noah; I could make it through another. I could even survive rejection from the art department.
I guess we’ll see tomorrow how warm I can be. I texted back, deliberately provocative. So brave, I thought to myself, when I didn’t have to be there in front of Noah. His response took a minute, but when it came, I felt flushed with excitement and happiness.
Sorry for the delay in replying. Had to adjust myself. Can’t wait. Be safe and don’t look at anyone but your brother.
Yes, sir. I wished there was a salute emoticon, but there wasn’t, so I sent a winking smiley face. ;)
I headed for the will call booth to pick up my tickets. Inside the envelope with my name on it were two tickets, a lanyard, and a note from Josh.
Come to the Fieldhouse after the game. Someone will let you in. Just wait for me.
The game was a blowout. Everyone was scoring touchdowns for State, and Josh was pulled from the game early in the fourth quarter. I sighed in relief and happiness. Post-game celebratory attitudes were a lot more fun to deal with than the post-game mopes. I had taken some great photographs early in the first quarter and then went down to sit in the friends and family section.
I said hello to the parents I recognized. Nate Levacki’s parents both hugged me and said they missed me but promised that they took good care of Josh whenever I missed a game. Nate, who we all called by his last name, was Josh’s roommate and the starting tight end. Mom never came to Josh’s games and after the first year, Levacki’s parents finally stopped asking about her.
By the time I got down to the Fieldhouse, the team had apparently already started changing, as several of the players drifted out toward the exit with street clothes and wet hair. Josh, unfortunately, didn’t show up for at least thirty minutes more.
By that time, I had stretched out onto the floor along one wall within the hallway of the Fieldhouse, the painted white brick walls protecting me on one side and my backpack serving as my pillow. I threw my arm over my eyes to protect them from the harsh fluorescents that lit the hallway. I was a little tired from the game and the drive. Josh finally showed up and woke me from my nap by nearly stepping on me.
“Nice bed, Grace,” Levacki smirked.
“I wouldn’t have had to lie down if you prima donnas hadn’t taken time to Bieberize your hair.” I referenced his carefully styled sideswept bangs and stood up.
“I’ve got to give the ladies an excuse to brush the hair out of my eyes,” Levacki replied, swinging his head to the side so his bangs lifted and resettled.
“Guys who wear more product in their hair than a girl are never going to get laid,” I said.
“Kids, kids, kids.” Josh laid a hand on both of our shoulders and separated us, forestalling any sexually suggestive comeback Levacki might have had. Josh liked to pretend I was still twelve and tried to prevent any male from saying anything that intimated I might know what a penis was or what it was used for.
Another teammate of Josh’s came up and slapped him on the back. “Good game. See you at West End?” The teammate peered around Levacki and Josh at me. I gave a little wave. “You can bring the chick. She’s hot.”
“This is my sister, you a*shole,” Josh scowled. The reference to my supposed hotness got Levacki’s back up, as well, and he pushed the teammate away. “We’re not taking her to that hell hole.”
The player shrugged and walked off. “Your loss,” echoed down the hallway.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Some girl Levacki is seeing suggested a new bar that has a battle of the bands tonight.”
That did sound halfway entertaining, plus I could tease Levacki about his new girlfriend. We grabbed some food and went back to the guys’ apartment, where we all played video games for a bit. Several other of Josh’s teammates arrived. Josh pulled me into the kitchen to grill me about why I was staying overnight. Usually I just did a day trip but this time, I asked Josh to find me a ride that would stay until tomorrow.
“Don’t give me this bullshit about missing me, either,” he warned. I hopped up on the counter while Josh pulled a beer out of the refrigerator.
I picked at the label of the bottle he handed me. “I just wanted to get away from Central.”
“What about this Noah kid?”
Oh, Lana. She had apparently called Josh in a preemptive move, and now he was going to flex his big brother muscle. I rolled my eyes.
“Just some guy,” I shredded the label with my fingers, pulling off one soggy bit at time. The bits felt wet and cold in my hand, like used Kleenex. It was kind of gross. I shook the mashed-up label onto the counter.
“Some guy you wrote to for four years showed up on your doorstep out of the blue?” He sounded skeptical.
“How do you know all of that?” I asked shocked.
Josh threw me a disbelieving look. “You are my sister. We lived in the same house. Hello.”
I shrugged. “You never asked me about it.”
“It didn’t seem important at the time, but now that he’s come halfway across the country to go to same college as you, I think he qualifies as a person of interest.” Josh was getting his criminal justice degree. He wanted to go FBI if the football thing didn’t work out for him.
“We’re just friends,” I lied. I wasn’t about to tell Josh anything until Noah and I had settled things between us. Maybe it was part superstition, but mostly it was just self-preservation. If I admitted to having feelings for Noah, this lecture from Josh could be unending.
“But Lana said—”
I held up my hand and interrupted him. “It’s really no big deal. I can’t imagine you want to think about my love life.”
He grimaced. “Right. Okay. Well, be careful. Guys suck. They only want one thing. Lecture over.”
Thank goodness. I was right to keep my developing relationship with Noah private. After Josh kicked everyone out, he and I piled into Levacki’s car and headed to the bar where the bands were playing. Josh had handed me an ID. “It’s an old ID from a sorority sister of Levacki’s new girl. So remember when we get to the door your name is ‘Sara.’’”
“Can I keep this?”
Levacki shrugged from the driver’s seat. “Why not? I’ll just say you lost it or something.”
“Cool.” My own fake wasn’t even a fake but a real license with a picture of a brunette who didn’t look much like me, though in the dark light of a nightclub it could easily pass as legitimate. This would be useful if Noah and I wanted to go out.
When we got to the club, the bouncer recognized Josh and waved us through without requiring us to pay cover or show our IDs. Josh’s celebrity can be a hassle at times, but admittedly it got us a few nice perks. Someone had even set up a roped-off area for the bands that were competing, and a couple of tables were cleared off and set up for Josh, Nate, and the other players who came.
Our corner was right off the dance floor. I could tell that other girls were wondering how I came to be with Josh and Nate. Once they found out I was Josh’s sister, every time I went to the bathroom one of them would be there telling me how pretty I was so that I could report back to Josh how nice they were. I wanted to tell them that a) this hadn’t worked since I was twelve, and b) there was no way Josh would bring home some girl from the bar when I was with him.
He pretended that he was setting a good example. I guess he never realized how much girls gossiped about guys and sex, because I had gotten an earful ever since he started making the rounds in high school. I kept quiet about it, though, knowing he would be mortified. I certainly was.
I allowed myself to drink heavily. Josh and others were there with me, so I knew I was safe. The liquor desensitized me, and I became more frenetic as the night went on, dancing and carousing in my little group. I actually ended up having a good time. Josh eventually had enough, though, tired of babysitting me and maybe just exhausted from the game. We left Levacki there acting as the dancing pole for a few girls. He looked happy.
***
Josh saw me off on Sunday. “Be careful down there at Central. Have you thought about joining the chess club? I bet those guys’d make good boyfriends.”
I scrunched up my nose. “They have sex in the chess club, too. I hear it’s really crazy. The winner sweeps the chess pieces off the table and then just takes their partner right there on the table.”
Josh look horrified and partly intrigued and said, “No shit?”
I laughed at him. “I have no idea, but this is the very reason I didn’t go to State with you. You’d have been monitoring the dating pool non-stop.”
He didn’t even look ashamed at being caught.
“Just looking out for my baby sister.” Ruffling my hair, he handed the backpack to me and shut the door. Tapping on the front window, he handed the driver some cash for gas, and we headed back to State.
I tossed my phone back and forth between my hands, unable to sleep on the return trip. I wondered whether I should text Noah and when we would meet up again. I wondered what I should wear. I hadn’t ever bought sex underwear before, and I assumed that I would be having sex with Noah at some point in the near future.
The thought made me faint with worry and overly excited. I needed to have a long talk with Lana. Were there books I should read on making it good for Noah? Should I be watching some porn? Questions ping-ponged back and forth in my head during the whole trip home. I was relieved when we pulled up to my apartment.
I thanked the two for the ride and asked, “Do you guys need more money for the trip?”
“No, we’re good. Text us anytime you need a ride,” the guy responded. I nodded and slid out the door. It was time to do some research.
Noah
When I was in high school, we managed to have keggers courtesy of an assistant wresting coach who was old enough to buy beer and young and stupid enough to be willing to supply it to underage kids. While there was a social hierarchy observed at the parties, it usually started with male student athlete rather than rich kid.
I never played sports in high school, even though I had the build. I didn’t have money, either. But I did a good job of looking dangerous, which was enough reason for many of the girls to walk over to me while I stood, holding up a wall at these parties. Friendship with Bo, who was rich and did play football, didn’t hurt.
As I leaned against one of the posts holding up the roof over our deck, I couldn’t help but be reminded of those days. Present but not quite belonging. Even though I lived here and had more right than anyone—besides my roommates—to be standing where I was, I still fit poorly. I was always just waiting for someone to kick me out.
I took a long draw from my Coors. Glass bottle. Hierarchy at parties like these was established by the quality of liquor in one’s hand. Glass bottle meant you were either trustworthy enough the hosts weren’t worried you’d break something or in good enough that they wouldn’t care if they had to clean up after you. Essentially, glass bottles were for very close guy friends and any girl you wanted to nail. Plastic cups and keg beer for the rest, or the“ pogs,” as Bo called everyone. It was an insult leveled toward anyone not infantry Marine, but it worked just as well in the civilian world.
“Nice buffet.” Bo came up to stand next to me, waving at the college girls we had rounded up from Central. It looked like the beach at Silver Strand, where the West Coast Seals trained. That expanse of beach was strewn with women and their tight bodies, with very little covering them.
The night air was heavy with humidity, and the pool gave everyone an excuse to strip down regardless of whether they had bathing suits. A couple more hours and there would be plenty of nudity, as even the thin scraps of underwear would become too uncomfortable for some.
When I first moved into this house, I thought that the distance from Central would prevent any real partying with the students, and, given that I was a couple years older than most of the seniors, that was okay. That thought ended with our first rager, held at the start of summer classes. The debauchery of that night must have spread like a fire through the California forests in summer because we’ve had to turn people away ever since.
The number of people just showing up was unmanageable. While we weren’t gunning to be neighbors of the year, we didn’t want to be monumental a*sholes, either. So we instituted rules. No more than six people per car. Every vehicle had to have a designated driver. Everyone had to be of age. By the end of the summer, though, we still hadn’t managed to curtail the migration westward. The last party we held we required people to have armbands that Bo and I handed out on campus.
It made the parties more exclusive to students at Central, which put us in the position of divining the haves and have-nots. It made me uncomfortable.
So yeah, the buffet of girls was quite impressive. While they were all very nice to look at, not one of them was the girl I was thinking about. Which Bo knew.
“Going to try one out tonight?” Bo pressed.
“No.”
“You really think you’re doing the right thing?”
“In what way?”
Bo gestured again to the pool lined with college girls mixing with guys from the gym where Bo and I worked out and some of the guys that worked on Finn’s construction crew. It was a weird mix, but it always seemed to work, even if those Central girls would never date any of the guys here. Central girls, like the girls back home, liked to flirt with the blue collars, but they always went home with the ones who would end up wearing suits and ties. “You’ve barely sampled the goods here.”
“I figure you’re doing enough sampling for both of us.” I drained the last of my beer and went inside to get another from the fridge. The kitchen was fairly empty. Another sign of belonging. No one goes into the fridge except us. Bo followed me inside, and I tipped my head toward the fridge to see if he needed a new one. He shook his head.
The only furniture we had on the first floor was a very long, battered table, where a bunch of people seemed to be doing body shots off one girl laid out like a sacrifice, and two equally battered sofas around the spot where our big screen TV usually hung.
It made for a good party house. I headed for the stairs. Maybe I should see if Grace texted me. The stairs were taped off with some fake crime scene tape. I hopped over and took the steps three at a time. When I stopped at the landing, I realized that there were people in the hall bathroom going at it.
I hated that. Someone always had to clean up the mess left by drunk people. The vomit was bad enough, —but somebody’s discarded condom was even worse. I gave the door a loud bang and told them to get the f*ck out. I didn’t stick around to see if anyone obeyed my orders. Bo was right behind me and banged on the door, too. “I hope you used a condom.”
I smirked at him. Our interruptions definitely would’ve caused a hitch in some guy’s stroke.
“What’re we doing upstairs?” Bo asked.
“I’m checking my phone.” I hadn’t heard the phone alert me to any text messages, but it was loud. Maybe I had missed one. I wanted to be in a quiet place if I needed to call Grace back.
“I’m worried, man,” Bo said concern tingeing his words. I wasn’t really listening.
“Yeah?” I responded, my attention on my phone. No messages.
“Grace was a nice girl to send you all that shit, but you know you don’t really owe her anything,” Bo continued.
“I don’t think I owe her something.” I was getting a little irritated now that his words were penetrating.
“I just don’t get it. She’s not your type at all,” Bo said.
“What’s my type?” I challenged.
“Someone more driven. Someone who has her act together.”
“She’s got her act together,” I said. I really didn’t know if she did, but what did it matter. I knew where I wanted to go. She could just come along with me.
“She doesn’t. She doesn’t have a major. She almost had a panic attack watching a dirty movie with you. She doesn’t have any other interests in her life.”
“How do you know that?” I shook my head. Bo knew nothing about Grace.
“Because I can ask questions just as good as you. This girl goes to class, does her ten hours of service, and nothing else. She’s not in a sorority. She doesn’t do theater. She doesn’t volunteer. She doesn’t take a ton of classes. She’s just existing.”
“Sounds familiar,” I said, looking pointedly at Bo. I wondered why this bothered Bo so much, since he pretty much described his own life. He looked away for a minute but didn’t allow that point to deter him. He pressed on.
“Yeah, but I shot bad guys next to you,” Bo said. “You have to be friends with me. And you can be friends with Grace. It’s just, why tie yourself to one girl? You should be downstairs taking one or more of those chicks up on their offers instead of up here checking your phone. This is your time to enjoy yourself.”
Bo’s mantra was to live hard, as if we only had so many years to be able to have fun before real life beat us down. Enjoying life apparently included bedding as many girls as humanly possible, like life was a first-person-shooter game, only women were Bo’s targets. He was accumulating life points with each conquest.
“You don’t know her,” I repeated.
“Tell me, then,” Bo said skeptically.
I stared at him in disbelief. “Why’re you busting my balls over this?”
Bo looked out the window over the pool and at the mass of flesh below. “Because you’re one of the good guys, Noah. The rest of us are a bunch of a*sholes, but you deserve something special.”
“You sell yourself short, bro.” I clapped him on the shoulder. I didn’t want to argue with Bo over Grace. These two were going to have to be friends. They were going to be part of my life for a very long time. “Be happy for me. I want to look at the world like Grace does, so that even the ordinary things look amazing.”
“Just think about it,” he warned. “It might even be good for you and Grace. You could make sure that she was right for you by testing out some other options.”
“How about I go downstairs and be the best f*cking wingman ever,” I suggested. Bo shrugged. He’d said his piece. If this spiel had come from any other person, I’d have thought that they were implying I wasn’t good enough for Grace. Bo was the opposite. He didn’t think Grace was good enough for me, which I didn’t get, even though I appreciated the loyalty.
Bo and I were about the only two guys unattached in our unit when we began, but by the end at least half, if not more, had divorced, broken up, or were cheated on. Grace had been more constant than any woman we knew. She was able to cut through all the bullshit and focus. I wanted that, and I wanted to be the object of her focus. There wasn’t any reason to sample anything. I knew a good thing when I found it.