I shrugged.
“Every now and then I decide to get it cut off; especially after I’ve been somewhere I haven’t been able to shower for a couple of weeks.”
“That would be a crime,” he said solemnly.
“You can talk!” I said, pointing my chin at the haze of golden hair that clung to his skull.
His lips twitched in a small smile.
“Believe me, babe, I’d grow it if I could. Maybe I should go to my CO and tell him my girlfriend wants me to…”
He stopped abruptly.
I sighed. “It’s okay: I keep forgetting which decade I’m in, too. It’s so strange.”
He nodded in relief.
“Yeah, this is so weird, I feel the same. It’s as if nothing’s changed but everything’s changed. It’s like being in some crazy time machine. I keep expecting your husband to be banging down the door.”
I winced.
“Fuck, sorry. I’m doing it again.”
I smiled, painfully.
“Oh well, I imagine you’ve had some experience with husbands banging on the door.”
“Don’t, Caro.”
I stared at him for a fraction of a second, then pushed past him, back into the bedroom.
I couldn’t believe he’d mentioned my ex-husband. Didn’t we already have enough painful memories between us? Apparently not.
I heard the faucet running, and he followed me, carrying a glass of water.
He handed it to me silently, and I took a small sip before placing it on the cabinet next to the bed.
“Thank you.”
He sat back on the bed, covering his lower half with the sheet.
“Caro, I know this is fucking weird but it’s good, too, isn’t it? I mean, not everyone gets a second chance.”
Is that what this was, a second chance? But a second chance at what? A second chance to rip ourselves apart again?
“Today was fun,” I said, trying to think it through, “and tonight was… good, but the reality is: I’m based in New York and spend between three and six months of the year away from home. You’re a Marine and go wherever they send you. Presumably this next tour of Afghanistan will be six months or maybe longer? And then where, because let’s face it, Sebastian, the chances of you getting posted to the Corps’ Division of Public Affairs in New York is slim to none – especially with your record. So I’m not sure what sort of ‘second chance’ you have in mind.”
Sebastian’s body went rigid with sudden, suppressed rage, and then he leapt off the bed, glaring down at me, gloriously naked – and very angry.
“Christ, it’s like listening to an old record, Caro! You always try to think of reasons why we can’t be together!”
“What do you mean ‘always’? I haven’t seen you for ten years!”
“That’s the whole fucking point, Caro! You used to say this shit to me when I was 17, and you’re still doing it now. We wasted ten years and you’re worried about a few thousand miles? Hell, we’ve got airplanes, we’ve got email, they’ve invented fucking cellphones. Jesus, if it comes down to it, I’ll even write you a fucking letter!”
I bit back a rather hysterical giggle that began to bubble up.
“You write letters?”
His shoulders relaxed slightly, but his eyes were still tight with emotion.
“I’ll write you on both sides of the fucking paper, Caro.”
“How can I refuse such an astonishing offer?”
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Are you shouting at me?”
“Yes!”
“Then, ‘yes’ to you, too.” I sighed. “Look, today, tonight – it’s been fun. But like I said to you before, I’m really not looking to get tied down again. I work a lot and I love what I do. I’m still mad at you for screwing up my travel papers. I won’t get paid until I’ve filed a story, and I won’t be able to do that until I get to Leatherneck. All this time, I’m not earning – and I have a very expensive mortgage to finance.”