First Days After

by Jay Vielle

  Mark shuddered a little. “I wonder…I wonder what it’s like out there,” he said.

  “Don’t ask, son,” said Wes. “I can only wonder why Emmitsburg isn’t as bad off. God’s grace, I imagine. I wonder if the entire country is like this. The radio message wasn’t completely informative. It listed a few off-limits areas, like D.C. and Norfolk, but not much else.”

  “I can only imagine how many people have died in all of this,” said Mark. “Are they going to play the message again?”

  “Every hour, they said, and any updates will come at that time,” said Wes. “You were out when the first one came in, I guess. We all were breathless while we were listening. As little as it said, it was reassuring to hear something finally on the air. It was on every station that was still broadcasting. I believe it was the Emergency Broadcast System.”

  “Wow. I want to be around to hear the next one. I have a question, Wes. Do the folks who started with us here have rooms?”

  “Of course my boy. I wouldn’t forget the people who started all this. Most of those people had their own classrooms. Robin Eaves is a Physical Education teacher, so she was given a classroom. Melanie was a secretary, so we gave her one as well. Most of us are all in the B-wing. A few nice amenities with that. There’s the handicapped shower as well as the Family and Consumer Science suite. We are closer to both of those—so that’s a nice plus for us,” said Wes, smiling.

  “We have separated into sections by gender,” said Wes. “Only proper, you know. There’s always a need to keep civilized even in uncivilized times.”

  Mark smiled and nodded. “How about my classroom?” he asked.

  “So far the only rooms we have opened up to the homeless belonged to our deserters,” said Wes. “Fisher, Reyes, Kelly, Defillipo. All their rooms went first,” Wes said, chuckling. Mark smiled politely back.

  “Membership has its privileges, huh?”

  “Indeed it does, my boy. Indeed it does.”

  CHAPTER 19

  “Thank God,” Maureen yelled. “Halle-fuckin-luyah!”

  Everyone was back on the bus, and Jake was flying down an empty Interstate 66 East towards Washington D.C. Al hugged Maureen hard and long. He was fighting back tears and was clearly still tense. Jada and Glen were nuzzling as well, with intermittent kissing.

  Estela was hugging Morgan, and the two of them were all over each other. Watching them briefly, one might assume that they were pretty advanced in their relationship, not people who had just met each other the day before. That whole thing might have seemed fast to unsuspecting onlookers, except that the catalyst on this was what we had just gone through over the last four to six hours. Everyone knows that extreme situations can be powerful attractants and even aphrodisiacs to an extent. This rag-tag group of travelers went from chatting, flirting, and occasionally holding hands in a stressful situation to one of stark terror, followed by a very close call with violent abuse. If the theory about the aphrodisiac was accurate, our collective shared experience meant that we were all likely to be screwing each other’s brains out before we got fifteen miles down the road.

  I looked around at everyone. The Colonel seemed as if he’d come back to life. He had gotten a little to eat and drink from the back of the bus and was reflecting on his influence on the entire day’s events with satisfaction and maybe even displaying a teeny bit of pride. Jake was focused on the road. He was hard to read in general, but right now his face looked someone defeated.

  “You okay, Jake?” I asked. He didn’t answer at first.

  “Yeah, I suppose,” he said. “That was nearly a day of my life I won’t get back. None of us will. Because of truly evil sons of bitches,” he said haltingly.

  “Maybe not,” I said, trying to reassure him. “But their party is over thanks to us. Thanks mostly to the Colonel, though, right?” I gave the Colonel a thumbs up, and he smiled and saluted me back. “One way or another, we broke up their little cartel. So fuck them.”

  “The less we talk about that whole thing, the better,” Jake said. “It’s over, we’re alive, the cartel is busted, and we can move on.”

  “Yeah, I guess all’s well that ends well. Is Morgan okay?” Jake caught my eyes in the bus mirror. He had seen her ripped shirt and wondered how far Trevor had gotten.

  “She’s fine,” I said smiling. I turned to look over my head and she and Estela were locked in an embrace and were rocking slowly together. “Estela’s got her.”

  Jake’s eyebrows raised after a glance in the mirror. The two were hugging so closely that they almost seemed like one person. Every few moments they would sneak in a kiss. Jake’s eyes opened and he looked at me. “Are they, um?”

  “Yes. They are ‘um.’ Both of them. I picked up on that days ago. You’re a little behind, Coach. I thought you were more observant than that,” I said.

  “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately,” he said with a smile. “Without having to worry about you and your people taking over the Earth now.”

  I chuckled aloud at that, and it lingered long enough that it got Jake chuckling as well. Stress I guess. First big laugh since being captured and sold to a Russian. Bound to happen.

  “You were great back there,” said Wendy, staring at Jake in the bus mirror. I turned my head to look as well.

  “Me? Are you kidding? I was completely ineffectual. It was the Colonel that got us out of that one. Props to him. Seems everything I tried back there fell flat. Including me,” said Jake.

  “You have been amazing since I got on this bus,” said Wendy. “True, the Colonel was the inspiration on this one, but you did your part. The way you got out of those cuffs.”

  Jake winced and held up his left wrist. There was a giant bloody cut across it from when he broke the zip ties. “Yeah, pretty stupid, huh?”

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” said Wendy.

  I looked at her face as she spoke. She was completely taken with Jake. She was wholly enamored by him. I thought back to the whirlwind set of days we all had spent together, and how she must have come to this state of mind. There was no denying that Jake’s rescue of her was pretty heroic, to be truthful, and his leadership had been unquestionable since we left. There was much to be admired about Jake once you got past the limp, the scars, and his moodiness.

  But the truth was that Wendy was digging on a married man who was on a quest to find his wife and mother of his children. I don’t know if she had really processed that part of it yet or was still under the effects of being rescued by our leader, but this was simply not going to go well if it continued. Tommy and Vinny noticed her too. They hid their disdain for Wendy, but it was obvious they were uncomfortable.

  As for Jake, I couldn’t get a read on him in terms of what he thought or felt about Wendy. He was using his poker face. I actually never knew him to play poker, but if he did, his unreadable face would have been an asset. His face was expressionless. He was aware that his boys were close by and listening. I think he could tell that Wendy was into him, but he couldn’t let on, not with Tommy all over him about Laura. I saw Jake’s eyes cut across to Wendy when she complimented him. They hung there, just a tad too long.

  He had to notice her. How could he not? By all accounts she was a truly attractive woman, and one that was close enough to his age to have to produce just the slightest inkling of a ‘what if’ in his mind. If I were straight, I’d have gone after her. Not only pretty, but smart, brave, and worldly. I know that we can’t really know people after less than a week, but at least on the surface, Wendy was the complete package. I couldn’t understand how she wasn’t married or even with someone. Married to her work, I guess. Some people are.

  Yeah, this had to be hard on Jake. As if losing your wife during World War III wasn’t enough, but the guilt that drove him would be his pitiless master. The guilt might have driven him all by itself, but Tommy and Vinny were there to help it along. They had outright accused Jake of not caring about their mother; hinted even that his indifference might have
led to her disappearance and Tommy’s tone even hinted Jake’s indifference might have indirectly led to her death somehow. How do you fight that? How do you refute it? Jake was completely devoted to his sons, that was unquestionable and evident by the way he went after them. But how devoted was he to his wife this past year? He had chatted with me about it some. Hints here and there.

  I remember one conversation we had in his classroom eating lunch a while ago. It was just the two of us, and he was clearly vexed about something:

  “Things aren’t great at home, Eddie,” he began.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Laura. Sometimes I think she hates me,” he said.

  “Jake, she married you. She doesn’t hate you.”

  “She didn’t hate me back then. But I think things are different now,” he said.

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Little cruelties, every day,” he went on. “Passive aggressive stuff. Little shots here and there. Always taking little shots.”

  “Like what?”

  “It’s gonna seem dumb to you,” he said. “Besides, you’re gay, so you’ll side with her anyway. Snarky gay guys always side with women.”

  “Shut up, you turd,” I said. “Give me an example.”

  “Okay, so here’s a couple. When I walk into a room she’s in, I wave to her. She told me to stop doing that.”

  “That is your example?” I asked.

  “She said, ‘you’ve said hello to me this morning already. Why are you doing it again? It’s unnecessary. Just say nothing. And don’t wave, you look effeminate.’ She actually said that.”

  “Well, you do wave like a girl. A little,” I joked. “But yeah, that is kind of weird. What else?”

  “I try to be polite to her. Apologize when I bother her snoring, or breathing too loud in the living room. She says I’m always saying sorry. That it’s not manly.”

  “Huh? She says NOT to apologize?” I asked.

  “No. She doesn’t want to hear me in the first place. She actually eats in the living room instead of the kitchen because she says I eat too loud. I eat alone in the kitchen all the time,” he said.

  “That is a sign of something,” I said. “Not sure what.”

  “Also, she gets pissed when I ask her if she wants me to cook,” he said.

  “Wait, what?”

  “She gets mad when I offer to cook. She says she shouldn’t have to make all of the decisions. That a real man would decide for her. I told her I didn’t care either way, and thought she might prefer to decide.”

  “Well that’s easy. Don’t offer anymore,” I said.

  “Well, I tried that too. Tried saying nothing. She got mad saying that I presumed it was her job to cook and decide everything,” he said. “That it wasn’t fair.”

  “That’s playing both sides,” I answered. “But I see what she means. She feels like it’s all on her. She wants you to take the heat some. Maybe you should just cook sometime without permission. Surprise her.”

  “I tried that too. She complains about the food. The way it tastes, the way it looks or smells. Picks on the way I prepare it. Kind of mocks me in front of the boys. Or at least when they’re home in the spring and summer.”

  “No shit? That’s unfortunate. That’s kind of a no-win scenario for you.”

  “That’s what I said. I’m not used to no-win scenarios. I’ve always been able to out-work, out-plan, out-last or out-sacrifice everybody. Even in the Marines. We had some hopeless situations, but there always seemed to be at least one scenario where we could all agree was the best possible solution, no matter how bad it seemed. We’d agree to it and move on. With Laura, it seems like she’s determined to be unhappy. At least with me,” he said, looking down at the floor.

  “Maybe she just doesn’t like you being the hero all the time,” I suggested.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Well, you are an actual war hero. You are, in many ways, a hero to many of your students. You are also a hero to the kids you coach. You’re trying to be the hero at home. Maybe she wants to be the hero for a change. Maybe she wants you to experience that no-win scenario. You seem to win at a lot of things. Maybe she just wants you to lose now and then. Be the sacrificial lamb. Give her some spotlight.”

  “It’s not like I seek the spotlight,” he said back defensively.

  “Still, you do get it a lot. Imagine what it’s like for someone who never does,” I said. Jake scowled at that.

  “I don’t want the spotlight. She can have it. I just want her to act like she likes me. She seems so angry at me all the time,” he said. “Sometimes I just want to retreat, you know. Like, move away and hide. Just hide away from everyone, especially her.”

  “I’m sorry buddy,” I said. “I guess everybody makes choices they regret sometimes,” I said, trying to sound philosophical.

  “That’s just it,” he said. “She was the right choice. I’d do it again ten times out of ten. We agree on all of the important stuff. Religion, politics, how to raise kids, how to treat people. And she’s a really thoughtful, selfless woman. Just not to me. I’m the exception.”

  “Los que queremos mas tambien nos hará daño.” I said.

  “I didn’t quite catch all of that. Those we love, something-something?”

  “Those we love most will also hurt us. It’s an old proverb.”

  “Fits here I guess. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be single. Don’t want to leave. I love our life, love our home. I don’t want to be that pathetic divorcee living in a studio apartment with nothing in his life but work. Even with my boys out of the house, I just can’t do that,” he said.

  “But you’re obviously miserable,” I said. “We all deserve to be happy, don’t we?”

  He didn’t answer me then. And I felt really bad for the guy that day. That had been a few years back, when Vinny was a junior in high school. Jake had to see him every day and keep it to himself, and I could see it was hard on him. It was his opening up to me about all of it that had made us close. He showed some rare vulnerability to me, and I never betrayed his trust. I had met Laura. It was just like he said. She was pretty, pleasant, thoughtful, and nice to everyone. Except him. I watched how it got to him. Year by year they grew more apart. I recommended counseling, but one or the other of them would waffle on it, saying they didn’t want to air dirty laundry about each other to some stranger. They couldn’t see how that would be helpful. I looked at Wendy again, and a tiny part of me was rooting for her. I wanted to see Jake happy again. He had moments of humor, being a smart-ass, but real, unfettered happiness was a rare sighting these days among everyone—especially Jake. I’d just keep my mouth shut for now. His boys were omnipresent, and his situation was unthinkably complicated.

  I looked around the bus for a minute. Morgan and Estela. Al and Maureen. Jada and Glen. Maybe even Wendy and Jake. And suddenly I felt horribly lonely. As a gay Hispanic man in a red region of a blue state, I was courting danger every day just being me. I liked being single. Young people are supposed to be single. I would drive to DC and hook up with guys. I enjoyed the party atmosphere when I had time for it. I was young. But just now—now, when everyone seemed to have someone next to them—now I felt utterly alone. Now I realized why people sought out life companions. For moments like this, when your world was coming down around your ears, challenging your very existence. Sharing in something like that suddenly seemed much better than having it all to yourself. Like I did. All by myself. My self-pity party was interrupted by Morgan and Estela, who made their way to the front of the bus near my seat. Estela sat close to me.

  “Hola,” I greeted her.

  “Hola, Eduardo,” she answered, and grinned widely. She had Morgan’s hand.

  “You seem happy,” I said.

  “Eddie, estoy tan alegre que no puedo creerlo. Es como Morgan fuera hecho especialmente para mí. La conocí solo hace dos días, pero no sé. La adoro,” she said. Morgan smiled uneasily. She h
ad heard her name, but didn’t understand what was being said.

  “In English, Estela. It’s bad manners,” I admonished her. I turned to Morgan. “She says she can’t believe it, that it seems like you were made for her, and that even though she just met you, she adores you.”

  Morgan beamed, and squeezed her hand tight.

  “I feel the same way,” she said.

  “I’m happy for you,” I said. And I was. The cynic in me said that relationships born out of traumatic circumstances couldn’t last. From what I could tell, they were both on the rebound, and both were without their families, at least for now. That wasn’t an ideal start, but they were young, and naïve, and no one could tell them any different. It was ironic, because I thought I was young and naïve, but here I was judging them like an old realist.

  “Eddie, are we headed to find my family now?” Morgan asked.

  “Yes, yes we are. We’re driving to Washington. And we’ll pass through Prince William County, and Fairfax County, and near where you’re from. Once we get you settled, the Colonel needs to find someone in the defense department to give his report to. He and Wendy have seen things. Things that might be beneficial for our military to know. Then we all can go about our business. Wendy lives nearby; my parents are there somewhere, and so is Vinny’s mom. We’ll sort it all out.”

  “Thank you all so very much. Vinny said you’d help. He said his dad would find a way. It’s odd, because Vinny picks on him a lot, and talks about him like he loathes him sometimes, but clearly he respects him enormously. He hides behind it by joking, but you can see that he’d be lost without his dad,” she said.

  “Jake’s a good man. We could be a lot worse off,” I said.

  We had driven for about an hour and a half, and were closing in on Manassas, when I heard Jake start in with the profanities.

  “Goddamn asshole Hell-fuck! Now what’s this shit all about?” he said.

  “Jake, we’re both linguists. It’s embarrassing. Don’t force the curse words. It’s beneath you,” I teased.