by Claire Cain
Maybe it was his posture, or that medium brown color of his hair.
“Ellie! Hey!” Luke flagged me down and sauntered over as I stepped off the paved path to walk the twenty feet toward him in the brown, wet grass.
“How are you, Luke? Feels like forever since I’ve seen you. Alex was telling me you guys are going to the movies tonight, right?”
“Yes, we are. We haven’t seen each other much lately either. But hey, come meet Harrison,” he said as he waved me toward him and walked the distance to the open back patio of what must have been Sergeant Harrison’s apartment.
I followed him and tried to steel myself for this interaction. I could talk with people in a professional capacity all day long, but when it came to casual conversation, I was an F student. It was one of few things I was truly self-conscious about, and something I loathed. It was the reason why, when I clicked with someone, I didn’t let them go. I’d experienced that with Alex as a freshman in college and had enjoyed the residual waves of comfort, love, and joy from that relationship for years.
I could handle Luke, too. I got over the hump of the initial awkwardness quickly because I felt like I knew him, and by the time he met me, he felt like he knew me, from all Alex had told us each of the other. He was my friend now, too, and I was glad for that.
But Sergeant William Jacob Harrison? We’d only butted heads, except during the interview, at which point he was purely professional, no small talk, no friendliness, except the very kind gesture of turning off the light to spare my dilated eyes the glare of fluorescence.
Let’s not spend too much time analyzing why I remember his full name, shall we? I encountered it during the project, obviously, and now it’s wedged in my brain, sturdy and immovable… not that I’ve tried to remove it.
My palms got a little itchy, and I shoved my glasses up my nose in preparation for a small battle, even if it was one-sided.
“Hello,” I said, waved doofily, and kind of bent at my waist to accentuate the wave. The contents of the grocery bag over my shoulder shifted as I bent, and I felt the sharp point of a milk carton jab me between the ribs on my other side.
“Ma’am.” He turned and looked up at me briefly, his brown eyes lighter with the blue sky above us reflecting in them and then looked back down at the grill where he stood, most of his back to me and Luke.
Yep. That was all he said. My eyes fluttered for a beat, absorbing the extent of his greeting. Clearly, I was not the only one who struggled with small talk.
“You can call me Elizabeth,” I said, sort of laughing and nodding emphatically, all a bit much.
“You know each other?” Luke asked, looking between us, and then recognition crossed his face. “Oh, that’s right, you met at the barbeque in January, right? The great combatives debate—I’d forgotten.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows at me teasingly. Luke had given me hell about my tirade that day. Of course he’d bring it up now.
The jerk.
“I’m participating in Dr. Kent’s—”
“—Elizabeth, please—” yes, I interrupted him.
He cleared his throat and looked at me through squinted eyes, likely from the sun, but maybe in annoyance—hard to say. “Elizabeth’s study,” he said, then turned his attention back to the grill.
“Of course. That’s perfect. Jake’s our overachiever in the battalion.” Luke smiled congenially and comfortably, and I envied his sense of confidence. He was one of those people who seemed at ease in almost any circumstance.
“Yes, he’s an impressive man,” I said, nodding to myself. I stilled, quickly adding, “He’s a great addition to the study.” I thanked God my cheeks were already rosy from the cold.
“Now you know you’re neighbors, too,” Luke said. He looked between us again. “Well, you guys have a good night. I’ve gotta get going.” And off he walked along the grass to his apartment, which I knew was at the far end of the same building where Harrison lived. Alex had suggested the apartment complex based on Luke’s place, and they’d even given me a tour over the phone since I couldn’t visit before the move.
But now, Luke was gone.
He’d abandoned me. Us, really, since Sergeant Harrison clearly didn’t have any desire to be talking to me any more than I did him.
I couldn’t think of anything to say.
I literally couldn’t think of a single. Thing. To. Say.
I stood there, my cloth grocery bags biting into my shoulders, even through my puffy winter coat, and my mind was as blank as a piece of virgin printer paper as I watched Luke clomp through the grass away from us.
“How are you liking it here?” The low voice came and shook me from the void of my thoughts. Startling back to Earth, I turned my eyes to him and saw he was standing next to the closed grill, a beer in hand, arms folded. He was studying me, that all-encompassing way he had that I’d experienced in my office weeks ago, and I felt the same urge to fold myself up into a small origami box and pin myself to a bulletin board.
Nothing to see here.
“Uh, good. It’s good. I like it. Close to work. Alex is here every so often to see Luke, so that works out. She’s my best friend, so, you know, that’s good. The apartment’s about three times larger than the studio I had in New York, so… all in all, it’s good.” I tried to cross my own arms but couldn’t do it comfortably. Instead I stood there, hands on the straps of the bags, hoping I could find an exit ramp on this highway of discomfort.
“Good.” And he lifted the lid to his grill, flipped a monstrous slab of meat over, then closed the grill and took a sip of his beer.
I watched the column of his throat move, his Adam’s apple sliding up and then down as he swallowed. I was straight up staring at his throat, practically ogling the strong neck, the shadow under his chin. I noticed his t-shirt, yet again, and before I could blush or say something even more awkward, I asked, “Why are you always wearing t-shirts in the middle of winter?”
The corner of his mouth quirked a bit, and his eyes were steady on mine. I was standing a solid ten feet away, but I felt too close to him.
“Habit, I guess. I spent most of my childhood in cold places. Alaska. Upstate New York. It was cold as hell there in the winters, and I always waited as long as I could before I started layering.” Other than the official interview questions, that was absolutely the most words I’d ever heard him string together.
“Ah, makes sense. Didn’t like being all bundled up?”
“It delayed the feeling of never being able to get warm.”
Something about that—something about the look or his voice or the way he took another swig from his beer like he had to after he said that—made me know what he’d said was important to him. I swallowed down my questions and made myself smile instead of dive in to my curiosity and risk overwhelming him.
“Well, enjoy your steak, Sergeant Harrison. Have a good evening.” I turned to walk back to the path.
“Jake,” I heard him say, and stopped, mid-stride. I turned. “If you’re going to make me call you Elizabeth, then you should call me Jake,” he said, fixing me with a somber stare, like asking me to call him by his first name pained him.
I gave him a small nod, and then kept going. I didn’t want him to see my broad smile. His asking me to call him by his first, or, well, his middle name—that made it seem like we’d almost gotten over the awkwardness. I doubted it’d ever be comfortable but knowing I now had one friend in the apartment complex—Luke—and one semi-awkward and upsettingly good-looking acquaintance, was nice. Maybe someday it’d be two friends.
It was Saturday afternoon at four o’clock when I heard my phone buzzing from across the living room and realized I’d been writing for five hours straight. I sat at my small, teal writer’s desk in the corner of the living room, my coffee mug and its contents cold and forgotten sometime hours ago.
I smiled at my mug. It was plain white but handmade by a student I’d had in a creative writing class one of my first semesters teaching as a grad
uate student. (I’d lucked out that semester and the professor slotted for the course took an unplanned leave of absence—I talked my way into teaching the class since I had a lighter teaching load than the other grad students in my year.) The mug said, “Blow Me, I’m Hot” etched into it in a scrawling cursive script surrounded by a swirling floral motif. The student and I had had many discussions on sexism in academia and the world in general, and it was a funny addition to my collection. She noticed I used different mugs all the time and the gift was so thoughtful and hilarious, I almost cried when she gave it to me.
My notes and papers littered the desk around my computer. I had timelines and outlines and character notes and little paragraphs I’d handwritten on notepads stuck in different places. I groaned as I hopped up to get my phone. I’d placed it across the living room on the kitchen counter, just through the doorway.
My knees ached and my right foot, the one that had been tucked up under my left knee for at least half an hour, was dead asleep. I felt the pins and needles start as I hobbled on my left foot the last few yards to my phone.
“Hello?”
“El. I heard Luke left you with Harrison after he threw you under the bus. I’ve already officially reprimanded him,” Alex said, though I could hear the smile in her voice.
“Ah yes, that was so kind of him. As though I’m not awkward enough, he brings up my best social faux-pas of the year so far. Granted, it’s not even quite March, but still.” I cringed inwardly just thinking about my barbarian comment. Though I wasn’t entirely sure I was wrong, I knew I hadn’t been right.
“What happened when my dear sweet and clueless manfriend left you and Sergeant Courtesy alone?”
“Sergeant Courtesy? That is a perfect nickname for him. He is maddeningly courteous. I don’t think I’ve ever been ma’amed so much in my entire life. Not even the younger soldiers say it that much!” He really was courteous, almost to a fault. I wouldn’t be surprised if we ended up at a barbeque together someday a few years down the line and he was still calling me ma’am or Dr. Kent.
(Ok, sure. Maybe it was weird that I was thinking of being with this guy, or even really knowing him, years from now. Don’t worry about it.)
“I know. Luke told me he thinks that if Harrison ever gets married, he’ll end up calling his wife ma’am as his term of endearment.” Alex cracked up as she said this, and something about hearing her laughing hysterically along with the idea of a man calling his wife ma’am instead of honey or babe or darling or whatever married people called each other, was truly hilarious.
“Like, ‘ma’am, you sure did make a nice dinner tonight’ or ‘hey ma’am, do you want to go to the movies Saturday?’” Alex was laughing so hard her voice had raised an octave. My own laughter had fallen silent, but only because I was laughing so hard I couldn’t make sound.
“Or like, ‘ma’am, I want you, so let’s go do it after the kids are in bed.’” She cracked herself up again, and I heard her cackling even as I came back to Earth.
“Wait, wait. In your future marriage, you plan on saying ‘Luke, I want you, so let’s go do it after the kids are in bed’? That’s the way you’re going to seduce your husband?” Her comment was off the cuff, but it made me smile and feel a little flutter of excitement for Alex and Luke. By the end of the coming summer, they’d be married.
Crazy.
Finally.
“You’ll never know, Elizabeth Carter Kent, you’ll never know. Now tell me. What happened when my beloved left you hanging with Sergeant Silence is Golden?” I heard her let out a breath as she recovered from her laughing fit.
“He asked me how I liked it here at the apartments, and I asked him why he always wears t-shirts in the middle of the freaking winter, and he told me to call him Jake, and then I left,” I said in one breath and then felt a wave of nervousness wash over me. Why did telling her that make me anxious?
“He did? He asked you questions? And wait, you asked him about his t-shirt? Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”
“What do you mean? It was classically socially awkward me. It just so happened he was equally awkward, so that worked out.” I felt a little drop in my stomach at the thought my comment about his t-shirt had been inappropriate. Had it really?
“No, it’s fine. I never would have expected you to even notice a thing like someone wearing a t-shirt. You’re not exactly about the physical appearance most of the time,” she explained. And she was right.
I could go weeks without noticing her new haircut or new clothes. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about them, but that I was amazingly unobservant about that kind of thing. She used to keep track of how long it took me to figure out she’d gotten her hair cut or colored. One time our sophomore year she’d cut about a foot of hair off to donate. It took seven months and a second cut and color for me to notice, and even then, it was probably only because she prompted me.
“True, I don’t. It stuck out at me at the barbeque and then again the other day because looking at his bare arms made me feel even colder than I already was. Or maybe because I’ve been surprised at how cold I’ve been here, so I’m mindful of how layered up I am? I don’t know.” I felt a little defensive, and she could probably hear that. She knew me too well.
“Nothing’s wrong with that, especially if he didn’t seem bothered by it. Or, even if he did, who cares?”
“He didn’t seem bothered, but he’s pretty hard to read. He’s so serious.” I could count the two times I’d ever seen him get close to something like a smile—once when I’d referred to my dilated eyes as shark eyes and again when I’d asked him about his t-shirt wearing habit.
(No, it’s not weird that I can remember the number of times he has almost-smiled at me. He was that serious. Move along…)
“Ok, well, whatever. I have a chance for you to educate yourself and be entertained. Are you intrigued?” she asked.
“Of course. Dimmi,” I said, using her favorite Italian command. She used to say this when she wanted details right away, like saying “Tell me” was any less efficient than “dimmi,” but she liked the command. It had worked its way into my vernacular over the years.
“In two weeks, there’s a regional combatives tournament at Fort Knox. It’s about a three-hour drive, and Luke and I are going to drive up. There’s a small handful of people from the battalion who’ll be competing, and I think you should come. It’s so much fun, and you’ll be able to get a feel for how non-violent and un-barbaric the whole thing is.” She sounded smug saying this.
“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”
“I am cute, and you know it. Now. Say you’re coming.” Good grief she was bossy.
“It’s a Saturday? Would we just go for the day?” I thought about how much I loved having Saturdays free, and then I thought about how rarely I did anything out of my routine, especially here.
“Yes, it’ll be a long day, but the weather should be fine. I’ve heard March is usually pretty tame. Worst-case scenario we’ll hit up a hotel, but I think we can make it back that evening. Plus, you’ll get to see Harrison in action.” She said that last part like it was a dangling carrot.
“You know I have nothing else going on. I’ll make Sunday my writing day, and I’ll go see the modern evolution of the gladiator at work.”
“Oh my dear, sweet pacifist friend. I can’t wait!”
The next week was plodding along well as I sifted through interviews and typed up responses and added information into the fairly complex spreadsheets I’d created. It was humming along nicely until it wasn’t, and I needed to get a breath of air and talk to a human. When I was working on the spreadsheets, I tended to keep my door either closed, or slightly ajar, in an effort to keep the sound from the hallways out. There was a fair amount of traffic at the education center, and I was easily distracted by snippets of conversations. In school I’d always envied people who could study or write papers and listen to music. My brain could most certainly not multitask, b
ut I couldn’t begrudge it much because I was quite good at studying and writing papers without music.
I stood and stretched, readjusting my skirt and blazer, then pushed my glasses back on my face. I tucked a few stray pieces of hair around my ears and smoothed down my ponytail. I opened my door and found the admin, Erin, and two of the Army education counselors, Rebecca—Bec—and Lacy, chatting in the area between offices just inside the building’s entrance.
“How’s it going Elizabeth?” Erin asked in her delicate voice. Today she was wearing a Kelly green cardigan that made her green eyes look absolutely, unmissably vibrant. Not something I’d normally notice, but the combination was startling.
“Pretty good, thanks. But I think I lapsed into a mild coma from spreadsheets, so I needed a break. What are you guys up to?” I wandered over and stopped in the space they’d opened up for me in the circle.
“Well, Lacy here was telling us she had to take her daughter to the ER this weekend,” Bec said.
“Oh no. Is everything ok? It’s… Sarah, right?” I asked, trying to remember her other kids’ names.
“Yes, Sarah. And she’s fine. We thought she broke her ankle though because there was a lot of swelling. But that’s not why we were talking about it. The nurse who helped us was one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen. Oh, my goodness. So now I need one of you three to go hunt him down and date him so I can live knowing I helped one of you find that beautiful man.”
I shifted side to side, bending my knees and stretching my back a little as I chuckled. “So he really made an impression on you.”
“Seriously. He’s Latino—Puerto Rican, maybe? Gorgeous brown skin, dark hair that’s a little longer than most soldiers, probably because he’s a medical guy. Oh. Mmm, mmm.” She looked wistfully up at the ceiling.