by Mila Gray
I scan the crowd and spot Walker over at the edge of the lawn. My heart kicks in my chest but my smile falters. He looks like he’s trapped with a woman in a kaftan-like flowery dress. She’s all over him like a rash, keeps trying to feed him cake, and I can see him nodding politely every now and then, but I can tell from his body language that he’s unhappy. His back is ramrod straight, his mouth is drawn into a line and his nostrils are flaring.
I think about going over there to rescue him. This must be his idea of hell – all these people, all these obstacles, all this noise. At least they thought to cancel the fireworks. What’s stopping me from going over there? I sigh. Everything. Nothing. My dad. Zac. The knowledge that if I do I won’t be able to stop myself . . . From what?, I ask myself angrily.
I glance sideways at Zac. I’m standing next to a film star. He’s impossibly gorgeous and seems to be completely into me, so why can’t I stop thinking about Walker? Am I deliberately trying to sabotage my shot at happiness? At what might turn out to be the real deal?
I study Zac’s clean-shaven cheek, the skin as smooth and flawless as a mannequin’s, the smile that shows off his perfect white teeth, and then I think of Walker’s rough stubble and the slightly sardonic smile that sometimes plays on his lips.
A voice in my head yells at me that I’m crazy, that Zac is the one, that I’m living the dream I’ve always yearned for. Zac glances my way as if sensing me staring and grins at me. I grin back at him but a bead of sweat is snaking down my spine.
Oh my God.
I want to be with Walker.
I’m drawn to him like a crazed, suicidal moth to a blazing bonfire.
I can’t stop my gaze returning to him again and again. A couple of times I catch him turning his head and seemingly scanning the lawn, and my heart shoots into the stratosphere. Is he trying to find me? Can he see? But then disappointment crushes me when his gaze passes over me. Even though I know he’s blind.
I’m here, I want to shout. I’m here.
More beads of sweat break out, this time on my brow. I swipe at them and give myself a fierce, silent talking-to. I can’t walk away from Zac for a guy who’s moody and messed-up and a hundred kinds of broken. And a hundred kinds of out of bounds.
That woman is trying to press a glass of something against his lips and my hands twitch. I take a step in his direction and stop myself. I have an overwhelming urge to place myself between them. I’ve never felt a surge of protectiveness like it before and it takes me completely by surprise. There’s a roar in my chest and it’s compounded by the applause that’s now broken out.
I realise that Colonel Kingsley has stopped talking and everyone is clapping.
Zac takes my arm. ‘I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner tonight, to say thanks for organizing my visit.’
‘Oh, um,’ I say, aware that we’re being looked at, that people are nudging each other all around us.
Say yes, you should say yes, the voice inside my head tells me. Only my tongue won’t obey.
And then, before I can answer, Valentina has placed her- self between us. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, breathless and fanning herself with excitement. ‘I don’t mean to interrupt, but I just love you.’
I take a step back to give her some space. It’s clear she’s not talking to me. In fact, I’m not sure she’s even noticed I’m standing here.
Zac gives her a brilliant red-carpet smile. ‘Thanks,’ he says.
‘Could I just get a picture with you?’ Valentina asks. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Not at all,’ Zac answers.
Valentina rustles through her bag for her phone and I think about taking advantage of the opportunity to edge backwards and leave, but before I can, Zac grabs for my hand.
His thumb caresses my hand and Valentina notices and shoots me a dumbstruck look, her mouth falling open.
Zac drops my hand and turns back to Valentina. ‘Ready?’ he asks, and he throws his arm around her shoulders and, taking her phone from her, takes a photo.
‘Thank you, thank you!’ Valentina says, scrolling straight through to check it’s come out OK. ‘Oh my God!’ She clutches the phone to her chest and gives me another really unsubtle look – widening her eyes in Zac’s direction and looking as if she’s about to burst.
I shrug awkwardly.
‘I’ll leave you two to it, then,’ she says, winking at me. ‘You have a good day now. Oh, and try the guacamole. I made it.’
‘I will. You have a great day too,’ Zac answers, waving at her. He turns back to me and, still grinning, grabs for my hand. He pulls me away from the crowd and instantly, as though a flick has been switched, his smile vanishes and a hard veneer replaces it. ‘Come on,’ he says, and starts pulling me towards the doors to the canteen. ‘Let’s get away from this circus.’
It’s as if a mask has slipped and I’ve seen a glimpse of the real Zac. I start to protest, looking over my shoulder at Walker, but then I see that he’s now been joined by Dodds and also by Kit’s father, the Marine Corps chaplain. That woman in the flowery dress who was trying to force-feed him is still there, but I can see that Dodds is talking to her now.
I guess Walker doesn’t need me.
I let Zac lead me back inside.
Walker
Major Ryan, the Marine Corps chaplain, saves me, which if I still believed in God would be in some way poetic.
‘You look about ready to dig a tunnel,’ he whispers in my ear.
Angela is momentarily distracted, talking to Dodds. I think she’s telling him all about her dogs.
‘God, yes,’ I answer him. I’m trained well enough to know that when an opportunity arises, you take it. You don’t hesitate. Hesitation gets you killed.
I’m on my feet in the next second.
‘You’re leaving?’
It’s Angela. Damn.
‘We have gentlemen’s business to attend to,’ the chaps answers for me.
I shrug. If he told her we were heading off for a gay tryst in the bushes, I wouldn’t care. In fact, I consider putting it out there anyway, thinking it might deter her from any future advances, but I’m not sure how the chaps would feel if I did that.
‘Oh, OK, well, I’ll come find you in a bit,’ Angela says, giving my arm a firm squeeze.
The chaplain threads my arm through his and starts to lead me through the crowd.
‘Nice girl,’ he murmurs. ‘Maybe a little too keen.’
‘Thanks,’ I tell him. ‘I really appreciate it.’
‘Where would you like to go?’ he asks when we’re out of earshot.
My room is what I want to say, but I don’t. I’m here now and I want to speak to Didi. Maybe she’s inside where all the food and preparation is going on. Maybe she’s helping organize the volunteers. Maybe she’s standing right in front of me but just doesn’t want to talk to me. The thought hurts. More than it should.
‘Inside, please,’ I tell the chaps and he guides me, speaking in a low voice and giving me careful directions about where to put my feet and where there’s a step coming up. He’s a good guy. I have a feeling he paid me a visit when I first arrived at the centre and I may have told him where to stick his Bible. I wish I hadn’t now.
‘Yo, Lieutenant!’ It’s Sanchez. I stop. ‘I saw you got stuck talking to Angela. I am really sorry about that. I told Valentina she should stay out of it, that you weren’t interested in being fixed up, but she wouldn’t listen.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say.
‘You OK if I leave you now?’ the chaps asks.
‘Yes, thank you, sir,’ I say.
He clasps my hand and shakes it. ‘It’s an honour, Lieutenant,’ he says and out of nowhere a lump forms in my throat that I struggle to swallow away.
‘Oh man, you think Dodds is OK?’ Sanchez asks.
I can only guess that he’s seen Angela trying to force-feed him cake.
‘Yeah,’ Sanchez continues without waiting for me to answer. ‘I’m sure he’s fine.’ He sound
s doubtful.
‘Have you seen Didi?’ I ask him, throwing the question out there before I can stop myself.
‘Nah,’ he says. ‘Why?’ There’s a pause, then he punches me on the arm. ‘Oh my God! You like her. You dirty dog. You’re blushing.’
‘I am not.’
‘Yeah, you are, you’re blushing like a virgin on her wedding night.’
Now I can feel the heat rising up my neck. I glare at Sanchez.
‘You totally have the hots for her.’ He slaps me on the back. ‘And Lieutenant,’ he says, ‘I got to congratulate you on your fine taste in women. Even though you can’t see shit, you managed to pick the hottest girl in the building, ’cept for my wife, that is.’
‘Who’s hot? Who are you talking about?’
It’s Valentina.
‘No one,’ Sanchez mutters quickly. ‘Hey, Tina, you seen Didi anywhere? Doctor Monroe’s daughter?’
‘Yes! I just saw her with Zac Ridgemont.’
My gut tightens like someone’s thrown a lasso around my waist.
‘I think those two are an item,’ Valentina gushes in a reverent tone. ‘Did you know? Oh my God, can you even imagine? Dating a movie star! I wonder what he’s like in bed. That body . . .’
‘He’s a dick,’ Sanchez cuts in fast.
‘Don’t say that,’ Valentina yells. ‘You don’t even know him. He was so polite to me just now. Look, he let me take a photo with him.’
‘He asked Dodds how he goes to the bathroom and José told me he went around shaking everyone’s hand in the physio room telling them how “inspiring” they are.’
‘That’s sweet,’ Valentina coos.
‘No it isn’t. Anyone tells me I’m inspiring I’ll punch them in the face.’
I barely hear the conversation. My brain is still trying to decipher the news. Didi’s dating Zac Ridgemont? That’s her kind of boyfriend? I hear myself laughing out loud.
‘What’s so funny?’ Valentina asks.
I shake my head. ‘Nothing.’
What’s funny is that she’s dating a movie star and that I thought maybe, possibly, there was a chance that . . . I can’t even finish the thought. Angela made me feel pathetic earlier, but now I feel I’ve reached a whole new level of pathetic I never knew existed. I laugh some more. That’s why Didi hasn’t been to see me in five days. She must have figured out I was into her like some panting stray dog and felt embarrassed about it. I’m so fucking stupid. I spin on my heel, trying to get my bearings.
‘Where you going?’ Sanchez asks.
‘To my room,’ I mumble.
‘That’s the wrong way,’ he says.
‘Why are you going?’ Valentina chimes in. She takes my arm. ‘Stay! Did you try my guacamole yet?’
I can feel my face burning, the laughter gathering in my chest, bubbling up my throat – hysterical laughter, bitter- tasting. I shake her off.
‘I need to take some pain meds,’ I say. Lying. I’m lying. I just want them off my back.
‘Let him go,’ Sanchez tells her. ‘I’ll walk you back if you like,’ he says to me.
‘I’m fine,’ I say, feeling the laughter ebb and swell then disappear, tamped down all of a sudden by a growl of rage that’s trying to burst free – pent-up anger and frustration triggered by shame.
‘OK,’ Sanchez backs off.
I concentrate on orienting myself, though my head feels like it’s about to burst and I’m finding it hard to focus on my surroundings. The noises around me seem to be amplified and the smells too – it’s as if the smoke of the grill and the eye-watering stink of onions is turning into the acrid smoulder of gunpowder and the stench of burning skin. The doors are open to the lawn and I can hear the chink of glassware and loud conversation blasting from my right, which means if I walk straight ahead I should get to the doors to the hallway that leads to the elevators. I’ll just find the wall and follow it.
I hear Valentina and Sanchez arguing in loud whispers, probably about letting me go unaccompanied, and I imagine Sanchez telling Valentina that I have the hots for Didi.
Embarrassment propels me even faster towards the doors. At least towards where I hope the doors are. I smack a table, sending something smashing to the floor, but I keep going. I bang into someone and mumble an apology and finally, hands out in front of me like a real blind man, I find the wall and follow it until I’m out in the hallway.
I yank on my collar to loosen it – it’s so hot I could choke – and then, on shaking legs and with a hand against the wall, I keep walking.
Didi
Zac pulls me into a room – I think one of the art therapy rooms. It’s dark, but when I fumble for the light switch he stops me, takes my hand and pulls me close.
‘Hey,’ he whispers, his arms looping around my waist.
I freeze.
He ducks his head, pulling me towards him with his hands, and his lips find mine. His hands start tracing my body and he groans.
I kiss him back for a few seconds, but then I pull away. I can’t. I can’t stop imagining it’s Walker kissing me.
Zac is giving me a curious half-smile through the dark, wondering why I’ve pulled away.
I look at him. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
‘What?’ Zac asks, sounding confused. ‘What for?’
‘I don’t think I can do this.’
He glances around at the room. ‘Yeah, maybe it’s not the best place for it. Maybe we should go back to mine.’ He leans forward and kisses me again, but I duck out of his arms.
He pulls back with a shocked expression on his face and I realize that he’s probably never been rejected by a woman before. That, in turn, makes me wonder how many women he’s been with.
‘What are we even doing?’ I ask him.
He gives me a strange look and shakes his head. ‘What do you mean?’
‘What is this?’ I say, gesturing between him and me.
Zac sighs and, stepping forwards runs the flats of his hands up my arms. ‘I don’t really know what I want,’ he murmurs, ‘but I do know that I like you. I like hanging out with you and I’d like to get to know you better.’ He gives me that look, the one that’s designed to make girls dissolve into puddles, and I feel the muscles in my legs start to come loose, my will start to weaken.
‘But, you know, I think the whole exclusivity thing isn’t something I’m wanting to do right now,’ he says. ‘We’re both really young.’
I nod, staring down at my feet. Yeah, we are. And maybe that would work if I was a different person, but I’m not. I want the guy I’m with to be fully, one hundred per cent with me, and not even looking at other women, let alone sleeping with them. I glance back up at Zac feeling resolved. He doesn’t know it, but he’s just made it much easier to walk away.
‘I don’t think that works for me,’ I tell him. ‘So, I guess we should maybe say goodbye.’
He raises his eyebrows. ‘No one’s ever broken up with me in real life,’ he says. Then he nods, still smiling. ‘There’s a first time for everything, I guess.’
‘I should go,’ I say.
‘OK.’ He sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks on the balls of his feet, looking like a little boy. My resolve is given another boost.
I reach for the door handle. ‘Bye, Zac.’
When I walk out into the hallway, I come to a sudden halt. As if the universe has planted him there, Walker is right in front of me, heading towards the elevators, one palm pressed to the wall to help guide him there.
‘Walker?’ I say.
He stops and slowly turns around. In his uniform he looks altogether different – older, professional, almost a stranger.
‘It’s Didi,’ I say but I can tell that he already knows it’s me.
His face is tight, his jaw tensed, and the pain and hurt flashing in his eyes makes me draw breath. What’s happened? Was it that girl? I clench my fists thinking about what I’ll do or say to her if I find out she’s hurt him in any way.
‘Oh, hey,
’ Walker says and tries to give me a smile, but it doesn’t work. A muscle in his jaw pulses. Is he angry? At me? Because I’ve been avoiding him?
‘Where are you going?’ I ask and step towards him. Why is he so upset? I want to put my hand on his arm but I get a very clear sense that he’s not looking for sympathy or comfort right now.
‘I’m just . . . going back to my room,’ he says, gesturing towards the elevator.
‘Oh,’ I say. I think about it for half a second. ‘You want me to come with you?’
‘No,’ he says quickly, angrily. ‘I can manage.’
‘I didn’t mean did you need help, I meant do you want me to come with you and . . . hang out?’
One of his eyebrows shoots up. ‘I’m good, thanks,’ he says brusquely. His beard has grown back. I want to run my hand down his cheek. I want to take his hand. I have to stop myself.
‘Didi?’
Oh crap. It’s Zac. I turn around.
‘Hi,’ I say.
Zac glances at Walker. I can feel the heat rush to my cheeks. ‘Um, this is Walker,’ I say, because what else is there to do but introduce them?
‘Hi,’ Zac says, holding out his hand for Walker to shake. ‘We met earlier, I think.’
The scowl on Walker’s face intensifies. His mouth purses. I look at Zac, who’s staring at Walker confused, wondering why he isn’t shaking his hand and why he’s staring off somewhere over his head into the middle distance.
‘Walker’s visually impaired,’ I say quietly, feeling myself cringe as I do. He must hate me having to explain it. And I’m right. I can see Walker’s nostrils flare, the colour rise in his face.
‘Oh, right,’ Zac says, dropping his hand like it’s been burned. ‘Sorry, man.’
Walker smiles tightly. ‘It’s fine. I’m just going. You two have fun.’ He turns away again, his hand going out to the wall.
‘Wait,’ I say. ‘I’m coming with you.’ I turn quickly back to Zac. ‘Bye.’
‘Yeah, OK,’ he says, shooting a look at Walker, who’s now halfway down the hallway. ‘I just wanted to ask if you could say thanks to your dad for me. I’m going to sneak out so I don’t have to run the gauntlet of all those middle-aged women.’