“Yeah, sure. Whatcha need, Padawan?”
Mel and his damn Star Wars references. That's what you get when you stick a guy like him in a battalion that calls itself The Empire. “Just . . . tell me, man, you got yourself a girl? I mean a serious girl, you know.”
Mel shakes his head, shrugging. “I had one, back when I was a plebe. She Dear Johned my ass right about Labor Day. Since then, nah.”
“What's stopping you, if I can ask?”
Mel laughs and looks around. “You remember where the fuck we live, dude? The Corps is mostly dudes, and I don't swing that way. There’s not a lot of pickings around here. By the way, tell your roommate when you get a chance—that girl he's going to see all the time is getting passed around her barracks like a Blu-Ray. Just saying, she's playing him if he thinks he's exclusive with her.”
Poor Cho. Jesus, poor fucker can't catch a break. “You sure about it?”
“Let's just say I went over to work on a project with one of my boys, and she came out of the room wiping at her lips and my boy's roomie had a very satisfied look on his face,” Mel says. “Can't swear to more than that. But to your question, why . . . I guess part of it is like I said, lack of opportunity. But the bigger part is that I'm just not ready for a real relationship. I could get to the city three weekends a month if I wanted, at least without this First Sergeant shit. But if I'm going to do that, why not just play the fucking field, man? Six million women in New York City, maybe a million in our age group or close to it. That's a lot of pussy to sample.”
I hum, nodding. “I guess. But what if you met that one girl, you know? Like, the one that you just really feel?”
“Oh, you mean like Becky?” Mel says a little bitterly. “She was my girl back in high school. We dated all the way from my sophomore year until she wrote me that fucking email. Hell, at least back in the day, when they wanted to break up with you, they had to pay for a fucking stamp. She just had to send me an email, telling me that she and one of my former teammates just happened to hook up when I was sweating my ass off here and barely getting time to beat my meat in the toilet. Then plebe year . . . fuck it, man. I'm a dedicated bachelor until I graduate. Then I'll have a job, money, and you know girls be all over the blue suit. Hell, why settle for Hudson Hookups when I could get stationed at Schofield in Hawaii and get me a hot Hapa?”
“I dunno, man. You think there's a girl out there that might be more important than the Army?” I ask, and Mel laughs. “What?”
“Remember, dude. Unless I get medically disqualified, I owe Uncle Sam five years of service or a hundred grand, no two ways about it. I'd rather do it as an officer than as an enlisted. You, though, if you've got some super-honey lined up, you need to make your decision quick before you get too many years invested. If you start up classes next year, Uncle Sam's got your ass just as much as he's got mine. Why? You know a girl like that?”
I shake my head. “Just being hypothetical, you know. Guess I'm just feeling romantic or some shit. Too much time today down on Flirty. You know how it is.”
Mel laughs, nodding. “I guess so. Yo, you want a Coke? My roomie bought me a six-pack as thanks for helping him out on a paper, but I can't drink this much. Got three left, and I'd rather not give any to the smacks.”
I nod, holding my hand out. “Sure. Thanks.”
Mel turns around and grabs a can from his windowsill and hands it to me. “If I were you, I'd camp it out on your ledge for a couple of hours and drink it after Taps or maybe tomorrow. Just be careful you don't freeze it. Don't want it exploding on you.”
“Not a problem. Thanks again.”
I head back to my room and put the can in my window ledge like he recommended, thinking. Finally, I pick up my phone and dial Lindsey's number. “Hello?”
“Lindsey, it's Aaron.”
She sounds happy to hear me, and even with the questions running around my head, I can't help but smile. She’s special, and I know that even with Mel's cynicism, I do have feelings for her. I don't know what I'm going to do about them, though. “Hi, Aaron! How was your punishment?”
“Eh, you know how it goes. Listen, I know you said you've got work tomorrow, so we can't ride, but I really, really need to talk to you. It's important. Can you and I meet up? Say, around the Reservoir where you dropped me off that time?”
Lindsey's voice goes concerned, but she hums. “Sure, I guess. Uh, I get off work at four. What time would you like to meet? Say, five maybe?”
“Five's good,” I say, thinking. While there might be people coming back from leave then, there are plenty of places we can walk from there where we can get some privacy. “Tomorrow. I'll be in my PT uniform.”
“Okay. I'll see you then,” Lindsey says. “Are . . . are you sure you're okay?”