by Marcus Sloss
“Funny that you mention consequences,” Willow said, batting her lashes at me, “I want to hear more of your story. I promise we can return to my past after we finish more of yours.” I let out a relieved breath I did not realize I had been holding. I was concerned she would react poorly to my observations.
“Fine!” I replied with a brighter tone. “You win this round.”
“And probably all others!” Willow said, and stuck her tongue out at me.
“Remember how after class one time, we were talking about the teaching assistant’s ungodly chunky necklace?” She nodded. “You remarked how hideous it was and confided that jewelry should be beautiful, but subtle.” I held my breath while fishing for a small box in the cargo pocket on the right side of my shorts.
“Yes, that is so true.” Willow said with a scoff. “That necklace was hideous. Wow, I am impressed you remembered that. Most men tend to stare at my tits, drool and say ‘huh’ when I ask for feedback on whatever we are talking about.”
“I said I like you Willow and we have been getting along great.” I smiled nervously as I fished the small black rectangle of a box out of my shorts. “I even picked up a silver necklace with a locket that reminded me of what you had said.” I opened the box to show her the fine silver chain with an inverted loop of a dainty black band at the end. The locket had lily flowers entwined into the design.
“I actually had zero intention of buying it,” I murmured and rubbed the back of my neck. “The old sales lady was far more convincing than she should have been.”
Willow paused our walk as she examined the jewelry nestled in my palm. I presented her the gift across my body, but Willow shook her head no, and back into the cargo pouch of my shorts it slid.
“I want to hear more about ya, before I accept.” She squeezed my hand, “But, don’t fret, I love it. Where’d you find something so perfect?” Willow asked in an intrigued tone.
“The strip mall, over in University Hills. I was there last weekend browsing the local book store. I have a love for actual, physical books…”
“Continue with your end of the world doom story,” she interrupted my ramblings, “so I can run away with you already. You get me, and I desperately want to know what worries you enough to follow me into the ‘struggles’ group therapy session.”
“I received a warning from someone I trust that something big was coming. Then silence. A man like me tends to rationalize that there are only a few things he should be warned about. My guess was not far off from …” I paused to let a husband-wife jogging duo pass us by.
I shook my head. “How about I return to my story before we get to the climatic reveal?” She shrugged. “Remember the two ‘sour suits’ that were waiting for me a few days after my hand had been amputated? Surprise! They had a new offer: a state-of-the-art robotic hand. I hated it. Let me re-phrase that, the original hand they offered me was fine, but the technology was not entwined with a programmable Gpad. Still, ‘state of the art’ was right there in black and white on the contract. I was a bit miffed they couldn’t throw in the latest tech, to say the least, but … I was still interested in the offer. The main reason why was not because of the hand or that the bonus cash they offered had increased. Their final offer included a Presidential pardon with a fake work history of being a boring jailhouse guard being inserted into my records.”
“Wow!” Willow blurted out, “They were desperate.”
“Exactly, and I should’ve figured out there was a reason why. The deal was pretty fantastic, but… if you play the odds against the house, you’ll always lose. Looking back, I lost in taking that offer. Others, like my father, will completely disagree and say I snatched a victory that I almost let slip through my grasp. I signed those documents and never went back to my jail cell. They led me from the room where I signed their documents straight to an ambulance, where a gas mask was placed over my face, and I was told to count down from ten.”
The park was not far away now and there was a lull in the traffic. We darted across the street and hopped safely back up on the other sidewalk. When I smiled down at the slightly shorter Willow, I noticed her face was flushed in the heat, and little beads of perspiration dotting her forehead.
I nodded at her turtleneck. “Would you rather wear my t-shirt?” I offered.
“What’d you wear?” Willow said and lifted my shirt to see if I was wearing an undershirt. My scarred abs were all she found. Her eyes flared with excitement. “Yup, hand it over, handsome.”
I peeled my shirt off with a slow, dramatic flourish. With my arms tangled in the shirt over my head, Willow smacked her palm into my abs, hard, causing a slight grunt to escape my lips. Willow had been sending signals that she was warming up to me during our last few times with one another. Slight touches on the arm. Hugs goodbye. Now she was comfortable enough to hit me. Girls. Before I could say anything, however, the shirt was yanked out of my hands. Now, I grew up with girls that were friends and even saw how my mom managed to change her clothes under other clothes, but I could only stare as Willow went to work. She was swift, concise, and had swapped out of her turtleneck in a second or two. As impressive as the feat was, seeing her in my shirt ogling my body was better.
“Keep going with your story, pretty boy,” Willow said with a smirk and walked towards the park. She flung the sweater over her shoulder for me to catch.
I jammed the winter cover into the back of my shorts and let it hang behind me like a tail. A few quick strides to catch up to her and my left arm wrapped around her shoulders. This time, there was no hesitation when she slung her right arm around my waist. Strangers greeted us with ‘hellos’ and ‘lovely day out’ on our arrival to the park. We meandered off the path and sat beside each other, facing a pond.
“Joining the military isn’t the same as it used to be. There was a time when training was rigorous, violent, and molded a man, or woman, into something greater than the individual. A thousand drill instructors could achieve excellence every day for ten years. But if one lost their temper and struck a recruit…” I paused and snapped a blade of grass free of its roots.
I tried to do make that whistling noise with the blade of grass, where you stick the thin edge between your thumbs and blow on it. The silicone was too slick for it to work, but I liked to try anyway. “Boot was basic, basic was boot camp. The process reminded me of a long six weeks of fitness training in a jail setting. Honestly? I fit right in. If I wasn’t so darn tall, I probably could have gotten through it without being noticed. That and I look pretty white for a guy with the last name of Yang.”
Willow stared at my pale chest. “How is it that you look so wonder-bread with the last name Yang?”
“Really?” I chuckled. “I get that a lot. My mother’s maiden name is Yang. I changed my last name after my father disowned me and they got a divorce over it. I wish you could meet her. She is teaching ESL in China right now. That is going to be hard to deal with, as she is refusing to come back despite my pleading with her to come home. I love her something fierce,” I said and yanked a handful of grass out, opened my fingers and let the wind carry the blades away. I looked over at Willow. “The rest of the story gets dark. You want me to keep going?”
“Can we save my mom?” Willow blurted out. “She recently became a flight attendant. She took the job a couple of weeks ago, to travel. I knew it was to help ease the loneliness she’s been dealing with since I left. Mom mentioned she was not enjoying the work. We miss each other.”
Out came the batting eyelashes. I had not even told Willow what the danger was, yet.
I adjusted how we were sitting until I had shimmied behind Willow. She reclined her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes to the sun while I placed her Gpad next to mine. Our units synced and I transferred nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars to her account—the largest amount I could move in a year to someone as a non-taxable gift. Willow was busy enjoying the warm rays of the sun and my embrace. Her failure to notice the trans
action did not bother me.
“Willow, I need you to have your mom come to us as soon as possible. Tell her the trip is all expenses paid to meet your new boyfriend,” I said and Willow mumbled something that the gusting wind stole from my ears. A sudden chilly breeze caused my skin to pucker up in goose pimples. “Willow,” I nudged her leg with my knee, “I sent you money.”
“Huh… What!?”
“Before you freak out, let me finish my story. While I do that, you can send your mom a text and purchase a ticket for her to bring her out here on the next available flight. Worst case, you hear my story and get to reunite with your mom. Best case, she’ll be willing to help out, because in the coming days, we are going to be extremely busy.”
“She’s going to think you are crazy for this,” she started tapping out a message to her Mom, “which you are. No sane person throws money around like that.”
“If digital money won’t mean anything in a couple of days, then, yeah. That is exactly what a sane person would do.” I frowned, “May I continue with my story?”
“Yes Sir!” Willow said in a mocking tone. “I eagerly anticipate hearing why digital money will become irrelevant, though.”
She shimmied over my leg so she could lean against my chest from the side. I gave her my arm to unseal and she read my thoughts. The sleeve came off and I gently stroked her hair behind her ear with my metallic fingers.
“Funny you should say that. ‘Yes Sir’ was a term I heard a lot after basic. If you think recruiting poor kids from inner cities was tough since the Universal Basic Income started, think about how free tuition has decimated officer recruitment. Even though I tried to keep a low profile during basic training, what I wanted was irrelevant. I had an expensive hand that allowed me to do things others could not. I was monitored closely for that reason alone, and honestly probably would have excelled without it, but I guess someone knew about my talents. When basic is over, you typically go to advanced individual training or AIT. I will try to avoid the jargon and acronyms. In Basic, you become a soldier and…”
“… at AIT, you learn your job inside the army.” Willow interrupted, “I know that much.” She glanced back up at me. Her blue eyes drew me in and I sank into her gaze.
“Okay, well, I didn’t go to advanced training. Instead, I went to officer school. Officer school was another six weeks of boring nonsense. The material was different and there was a great emphasis on leadership training, but the course is designed to pass people through, not for them to struggle and fail. We lost only two people. That was it. I was voluntold to branch infantry and expected to go to Ranger school after graduation, based on the research I did during my downtime. Instead, they shipped us off to Israel for foreign reconnaissance and surveillance training.”
“You went to Israel! Damn, they knew,” she gasped, “They must have known war was coming for a long time.”
“Yeah… that is what we thought. You might notice my story swaps from ‘I’ to ‘we’ occasionally. Jevon was my battle buddy. The two of us went through basic, to officer school, and then on to Israel together. He learned about my past, and I learned he had been heading to jail for possession of a controlled substance they found in his car. A buddy had tossed a bag in the back. The cops pulled over two black men in a suspicious car and found the drugs. Spoiler, they both said they had no idea where the drugs came from. Jevon was given a choice, though. They’d clean up his record in return for a little time in the military. His two year commitment jumped to six, however, just like mine, when we became officers.”
Willow shifted her weight off my chest. Her knees cracked as she stood with a long, glorious stretch. Her body was divine and the smirk she shot back at me confirmed that I had been caught indulging in the sight. I had picked the perfect mess of a woman.
“I am starting to get cold just sitting. Let’s walk and talk. There are some nice trails in this park.” She helped pull me to my feet. “How was Israel?”
“Different. Honestly, the local soldiers I trained with were clueless. No amount of coaching could have made them so void of any inkling of the war that was about to destabilize the entire region. Sure, they trained for every type of scenario, but I have gone over my time there again and again, and no subtle hints of impending conflict were given.” I shrugged. “The training was rigorous. For the first time since leaving prison, I felt challenged. I conquered every obstacle in my path. Jevon was as determined as I was. We encouraged each other every step of the way, passed with ease, and back to the good ole USA we went.”
A small arched bridge started from the compact gravel. Plastic pretend wood gave the bridge a far different look and feel than the texture and sounds one might expect. The hollow echo of our feet disturbed a sunbathing turtle; the poor guy or girl slipped into the water for safety. I glimpsed a few large carp drifting by under the lily pads. An old lady further down the bridge tossed down hunks of bread. The irony of it was that she did so right beside a sign that declared ‘no feeding the animals’. Some rules were just meant to be broken. Willow nodded at the sign with a smirk as we walked past and I tucked her under my arm and pulled her past the distraction. The old lady had seen her gesture and I could tell when a woman was itching for an argument. I towed Willow away from the confrontation.
“You knew she was going to defend her actions,” Willow said.
“Yeah, I am surprised you caught on to what I was doing,” I replied.
“I think your arm is why she kept her mouth to herself.” She pulled back, “for the sake of not frightening any more old biddies, let’s put this back on.”
Willow stepped off the path and I inserted my metallic arm into the silicone sleeve she held out for me. She connected the seam like an expert. A quick few wiggles of my digits confirmed a good seal and we moved back onto the gravel trail. Our feet crunched the small rocks underfoot as we casually strolled up the path.
“I loved being an officer. My understanding of all things military was at its peak. I was a honed weapon, ready for a war that I figured would likely never arrive. We had a progressive president and a liberal House and Senate. The chances of war seemed non-existent to all of us troops. When everything points in one direction, however, someone should look the other direction. Israel beat the daylights out of the Saudi’s when that country decided to insert troops to help the latest Palestinian uprising. President Hansen gave them a clear warning publicly that the Crown Prince ignored. The devastation from the month-long war was total. The Saudi’s had spent a lot of money buying fancy helicopters, jets, and other top-of-the-line weapons, only to still get their butts kicked. Within three weeks, it was over, as you probably know. The whole world watched the rump spanking…”
“I thought soldiers swore,” Willow asked and poked me with her elbow.
“A, you are a lady. Not that I would not swear in front of a lady, or you in the future, if warranted; B, I am actively courting you and hope to hide my brutish nature as long as possible so I don’t scare you off; C, not all situation require a swear, with the possible exception of using ‘fuck me’ in the bedroom behind closed doors.” I grinned, “Then, it is perfectly fine!”
Willow punched me in the left arm for that line. We both giggled at our back and forth.
“You are something else, Eric Yang. Okay, consider my prestigious lady card forfeited,” Willow said, while I rubbed the spot she hit. “Sorry, I did interrupt with a pointless question in the middle of your recollections.”
I smiled and continued. “There was an underlying cause of the Saudi war that no one ever wants to mention, especially the current administration with its progressive policies. Saudi princes have, for generations, subsidized their population,” I started and Willow rolled her eyes.
“Please let’s not get into politics,” she pleaded.
“I’m not being political, Willow. Merely trying to make you understand that war provided an opportunity for the Saudi ruling family. They needed the war. Thanks to the stampede towards elect
ric vehicles and the low price of oil, they were almost out of money. The best way for them to maintain power, was—believe it or not—to provoke Israel, lose the war, and then blame their crashing economy on a foreign nation.”
Willow huffed as we climbed a steep part of the trail. I let her get ahead of me so I could admire the sway of her hips and the snap of her booty. She liked the attention and kept stealing glances at my shirtless body. We definitely were physically attracted to each other; the chemistry between us gave me hope that I could open up and feel again ... something I had lost the ability to do at some point in the desert. That was a large part of the reason I had become such a hermit after returning from the war.
“I thought that was just a conspiracy theory, President Hansen said the Saudi’s were trying to aid a beleaguered people,” Willow said, reciting the administration’s party line.
“True, but all the best lies have a grain of truth in them. I am giving you the whole truth. How many of our soldiers died in the post-war peacekeeping mission?” I asked.
“A few hundred-”
“Exactly,” I snapped, “Why would a defeated nation turn on the Americans sent there to help?”
“President Hansen said that was in retaliation for poor troop behavior and the unwarranted violence caused by a few bad prisoners converted into troops,” she replied. “There was that time a young man was frisked with zero -”
“Let me stop you right there,” I said sadly, “I am not about to get into a debate over what the media said happened. I will tell you what really happened based on my own experience; I was there. You know what the president said and can compare our words. I’ll let you decide for yourself what the truth is.”
I looked down as the memories came flooding back. “The Saudi people came to our checkpoints for food at first. It was easy, we’d hand out MRE’s and bottled water, keep a fake smile on our faces, mumble the few words we’d been taught in Arabic, and then head back to the gym before we’d rack out. Rinse and repeat. That is, until we ran out of food to hand out. Congress had no more money to allocate, since our new healthcare plans, the Universal Basic Income, and free college tuition cost way more than anticipated.” I grimaced, “Congress called for an immediate troop withdrawal, and my recon unit composed mostly of rehabilitated convicts was left behind.”