Miranda pokes at her hamburger with a carrot stick. “Boy, you just don’t give up on that chick, do you?”
I shrug. “I think she’s just … ”
“Socially challenged?” Koby suggests.
I frown. “I was going to say, ‘going through a lot.’ We all know it sucks when people jump to conclusions about you. Seriously, she’s cool; you should really give her another chance.” I look directly at Miranda. “Ask her to the concert,” I challenge. “Do it for me.”
Miranda’s face flushes. Don’t ask me to do that, says her expression, but the words that come out of her mouth are, “I’ll think about it.”
“And count me in,” I add. “In fact,” I say, throwing my arms around Miranda and pulling her to me in a big side hug, “did I ever tell you that I love you?”
Eventually, even Miranda is laughing. We can’t believe it; in a little over a month, we’re going to see Poisoned Heart perform live! For the moment, anyway, life is beyond good.
Seventeen
From the moment we see Brian’s plane touch down, it’s hard to wipe the big cheesy grin of happiness off my face. News of his return somehow got out to the media, so by the time we arrived at Longview Airport, the WDAL news crew was already waiting. I spotted Paul Sturman, local news reporter, admiring his reflection in the airport window; as I watched, he tilted his head and raked his fingers through the front of his hair. All the moms in town think Sturman is Longview’s answer to Matt Lauer, and I guess he has a reputation to uphold.
Naturally, Dad came in from the road in order to welcome his favorite son back from war; he barely made it back to town in time to shower, shave, throw on some clean clothes, and drive us to the airport. I overheard Victoria telling Mom that she’d spent all afternoon at the beauty salon, making sure she looked perfect for the first time she sees Brian. I have to admit, she does look great, and she smells like some kind of exotic flower.
Brian’s flight’s arrival is announced and we all watch anxiously as deplaning passengers come down the stairs and through the gate. For an instant I think about what a fluke it would be if Brian missed his flight, but a moment later it occurs to me how Mom would react if he didn’t get off that plane, and I’m glad it won’t happen like that.
Among the throng of people exiting the gate area, a soldier in camo-casual makes his way slowly toward us. One arm is hidden inside his jacket, held close to his thin body by a neat, dark sling. A black patch covers one eye, and the other eye looks a little dazed as it scans the crowd.
It’s then that I finally know it for sure: my brother is home. Alive. Out of danger. An uneven lump of happiness and relief forms in my throat, and I’m not even embarrassed when I feel tears prickling behind my eyes.
“There he is!” screams Victoria, grabbing my arm. I don’t know what it is that makes girls jump up and down when they get excited, but Victoria is definitely a jumper. My arm feels like it’s going to be torn off at the shoulder.
On the other side of me, Dad sees Brian too. “There he is, all right,” he says to no one in particular, a proud grin stretching across his face. “There’s my boy.” Mom’s already following behind Victoria, who’s let go of me and is running toward Brian.
“Here he comes now,” Paul Sturman informs the cameraman. “We don’t want to miss this … and … we’re rolllinggg … ” The camera’s big light snaps on just in time to capture the moment when Victoria throws her arms around my brother’s neck. Brian is smiling now, but the force of Hurricane Victoria sends him stumbling backwards half a step.
“Oh my God … baby … baby … ” Victoria sobs. She doesn’t seem to notice that she almost knocked Brian over; she’s busy burying her face deep in my brother’s neck, “Thank God you’re safe!”
Mom stands nearby, her hands clasped together. Tears stream down her face as she waits for her turn to hug her son. When Victoria finally releases him, Brian sees her standing there and opens his arms. Mom moves into them and gives him a long hug. “Brian … oh, Brian,” I hear her say. “You can’t imagine how we worried.”
When it’s his turn, Dad salutes him heartily. “Welcome home, soldier,” he says, his voice hoarse with emotion. He wipes his eyes quickly, then holds out his hand to pump Brian’s. “Good to have you back. Good to have you back,” he repeats.
“Glad to be back, sir,” Brian nods. He finishes shaking Dad’s hand and looks over at me. “What’s up, little brother?” He smiles.
“Not much.”
“Got a new look, huh?” When Brian deployed nine months ago, my hair was still the color of muddy water, and my wardrobe consisted of saggy jeans and random Tshirts. Apparently no one told him about my reinvention.
“Yeah.” I nod, my throat clogging with unexpected tears. The next thing I know, I’m hugging my brother, gently because of his sling between us.
“Thanks, bro,” Brian mutters. “My ribs are still a little sore.” Close up, I can see that Brian has tiny scabs all over his face, as if he’s been sandblasted.
“Welcome back, Private Howard,” Paul Sturman interrupts, pushing a jumbo microphone between us. “We don’t want to interrupt your reunion here, but the whole community wants to know how it feels to be back on American soil. Back on your old stomping grounds.”
Brian hesitates; he seems overwhelmed by all the commotion. “Well,” he says, smiling, “to tell you the truth, it doesn’t feel quite real yet, but when it does, it’s going to be pretty awesome. Even right now, it would be hard to slap the happy off my face.”
Sturman grins. “That’s great, just great. Tell us, Brian, what happened over there? How were you injured?”
Brian’s eye shifts and he looks uncomfortable. “Well,” he says slowly, as if he’s remembering, “my unit was out on patrol in Kabul, and we were engaged by insurgents.”
“And by ‘engaged’ you mean attacked,” Sturman supplies helpfully.
“Attacked, yeah,” Brian agrees. “We were attacked.”
“Now, from what I understand, some of the other soldiers in your unit didn’t make it back.”
“Yessir,” Brian says, his voice cracking. “Three brave men and one outstanding woman lost their lives that day.”
“Wow,” Sturman marvels. “That’s extraordinary. We are always so sorry and proud when our brave men and women make the ultimate sacrifice for our country.” He pauses for a respectful moment before continuing. “Now, Private Howard, how do you account for your making it through that terrible day alive? When so many other soldiers in your unit were killed?”
My brother’s chest lifts as he takes a deep breath; it’s a few beats before he exhales. “I don’t know,” he says faintly. “I guess maybe someone was watching over me?” He breaks eye contact with the reporter and meets mine. “Could I sit down, do you think?” he asks me. “I—I’m feeling kind of shot all of a sudden.”
There’s a flurry of activity as Brian is ushered to a nearby bank of chairs, Sturman and the cameraman trailing along behind. My brother does look weary as he sinks gratefully onto a chair.
Sensing his subject doesn’t have much left to offer, Sturman turns to my parents. “Tell us what you’re feeling tonight, Mrs. Howard,” he invites.
Mom sighs happily. “Oh, it’s so wonderful to finally have him here, home safely. Of course he’s got some injuries … he’ll need to recover from those … but we’re just very grateful to be one of the families fortunate enough to have our soldier come home.”
“I imagine you certainly must be,” Sturman agrees. The cameraman points to his watch and Sturman turns and looks into the camera. “Here with the very happy family of Longview’s own Private Brian Howard,” he summarizes, “I’m Paul Sturman for WDAL news.”
“And … cut. That’s a wrap.” The cameraman snaps off the light. It’s a relief to be out of the bright glare, but losing it makes everything feel dull and two-dimensional.
“Thanks so much for letting us intrude on your reunion,” Paul Sturman says, handing t
he microphone to the cameraman without even looking to make sure he’s there to receive it. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, but it’s a great story. Gotta bring the happy news when we can these days.”
Dad shakes Sturman’s hand again. “I imagine everyone in Longview will be glad to know Brian Howard made it back safely. He was quite an athlete for Longview High, you know.”
“Oh, indeed I do know,” the reporter agrees. “I covered that game against Milford Central. He ran for … ”
“For 210 yards,” Dad finishes, laughing. “Wasn’t that something?”
“It sure was.” Sturman looks at Brian, but my brother isn’t paying attention. Instead, he’s listening to whatever Victoria is whispering into his ear. Distractedly, he shifts position in his chair, then grimaces and reaches his good hand up to touch his ribs.
“Kind of brings it all home to see him come back like this, doesn’t it?” the reporter murmurs to Dad, who doesn’t reply right away.
“Yes, it does,” Dad says finally. “But at least now he’ll be able to get on with his life knowing that he did his part. My kid’s a real hero in my eyes.”
Sturman nods. “He’s a hero to us all.”
Mom suddenly claps her hands together to get everyone’s attention; Brian jumps at the sharp sound, which makes us all laugh.
Mom puts a hand on Brian’s shoulder to reassure him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart; I didn’t mean to startle you! I was just going to say, ‘let’s get this show on the road.’ Is anyone hungry? I’ve got a roast in the oven, and sweet potatoes. Apple pie for dessert. All Brian’s favorites.”
“Wow, Mom,” Brian says, “that sounds great. It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten anything that didn’t have grit as the main ingredient. I can hardly wait … in fact, what are we waiting for?”
Everyone laughs, including Brian, and begins to make preparations for departure. I trot off and find Brian’s duffel bags circling on the baggage carousel, and Mom and Victoria keep Brian company while Dad goes off to pull up the Suburban. Now that we’ve gotten a look at Brian’s condition, Dad wants to give him curbside service.
When I get back with his bags, Mom and Victoria both decide they have to find the restroom before we leave for home. “Keep an eye on my baby,” Victoria instructs me, bending down to kiss my brother’s clean-shaven cheek. “This is the last time I’m letting him out of my sight.”
Brian laughs. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” he tells her, hanging onto Victoria’s hand until she’s out of reach. I can tell how happy he is to see her, and it makes me like Victoria even more.
Mom leans down and kisses a spot just above the place Victoria kissed. “You just rest,” she says softly. “We won’t be long.”
“You’d better not be,” Brian agrees. “Now that you’ve started my stomach growling with all this talk of apple pie.”
Mom giggles like a giddy young girl and scurries off after Victoria. I sit down on the chair next to Brian. It’s been so long, it feels awkward being alone with him. “So … kinda a lot to take in, huh?” I offer.
“You don’t know the half of it, bro … my head is pounding right now. It’s kind of like being in some sort of weird dream I had a long time ago.”
I nod as if I understand.
Brian sighs. “But really, it’s awesome to be back. Nice to take off my boots for the last time.”
“Yeah,” I chuckle, but I’m thinking about something I saw in his face just before he spoke. Something that suggests that even though Brian feels like he’s in a dream, all my brother really wants to do is lie down and fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Eighteen
On the ride home in the car, it seems like the old Brian is back. With Dad’s help, he climbed into the middle seat of the Suburban and slid over next to the window. Victoria, of course, wedged in close beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. With Dad driving and Mom riding shotgun, that leaves me stuck in the third seat with Brian’s duffel. All the way home, Mom keeps looking over her shoulder, as if to assure herself that Brian is still there. “Everything’s pretty much the same around here,” she tells him as we drive past the familiar landmarks of Longview. “Not many changes while you were gone.”
“It’s not like I’ve been away for years, Mom,” Brian reminds her. He stares out the window as we pass the high school. “Things do look sort of different, though,” he comments. “Maybe it’s the one-eye thing.”
“Or maybe it’s you who’s changed,” Victoria murmurs, smiling up at him.
“Maybe that’s it.” From behind, I watch as my brother uses his good arm to pull his fiancée close so he can drop a kiss onto her hair.
Main Street is busy for a Sunday night. The sign over the Empire Arts Center advertises the staging of a performance, and on the sidewalk underneath people are milling around before going inside. “Oh look,” Mom says. “The Gaither choir is in town.”
“What’s wrong, babe?” I hear Victoria whisper. I was staring out the window, idly watching the theater crowd as we passed, but now I look at Brian. He’s pulled away from Victoria and is glued to the window, staring out into the throng of people as we drive slowly by them, his eyes moving back and forth over the crowd.
“Babe?” Victoria repeats.
“Swing back around,” Brian orders, his voice high and tight. “Let’s take another run past there.”
“What was that, dear?” Mom asks from the front seat. She turns and looks over her shoulder at Brian, a happy, expectant smile on her face.
“Something wrong, Brian?” Dad asks, his eyes on Brian in the rearview mirror.
As we leave the scene behind, Brian follows it with his eyes, then turns back toward the front. “Forget it,” he says. “I just, uh, I thought I saw something. I guess there’s nothing to worry about here, right?” He sits back against the seat, but the set of his shoulders tells me he hasn’t completely relaxed.
Victoria snuggles closer. “You’re home now,” she soothes. “I’m going to take care of you.” I’m glad it’s dark so no one can see me roll my eyes.
“Roger that,” Brian agrees, smiling. “No worries.”
Mom chatters nervously the rest of the way home, doing her best to keep Brian’s mind off anything but love, peace, joy, and happiness, and we manage to make the rest of the trip without incident. When Dad pulls into the driveway the car’s lights sweep across the front of the house, illuminating the carved Halloween pumpkin waiting on the front steps and the big WELCOME HOME BRIAN sign that Mom and Victoria hung across the garage door.
“Now who did that?” Brian asks, sounding pleased.
Victoria plants a kiss on his cheek. “Guess,” she prompts.
“Aw, Dov, you made me a sign?” Brian teases. “You’re just the sweetest !”
“It’s the least I could do,” I agree.
Victoria elbows him. “Ow!” Brian yelps, making Victoria suck in her breath in horror.
“Oh my God, baby, I’m so sorry … ”
“Just kidding,” Brian laughs. “It’s my other side, anyway.”
“Jerk!” Victoria socks him, hard. They tussle for a minute, then start kissing.
“Geez,” I mutter, already ready for the reunion to be over.
Dad parks and shuts off the engine. “Dov, carry in your brother’s duffel,” he orders.
“Aye-aye, Sergeant.” I pretend not to see the dangerous look my father directs back to me via the rearview mirror.
Mom goes on ahead to check the roast, and the rest of us follow slowly behind her into the house. Brian and Victoria bring up the rear, still clinging to each other.
The minute we get inside the house it becomes clear that something is wrong; the air smells of burnt meat. “Damn, damn, damn … ” Mom can be heard lamenting in the kitchen. A moment later she appears in the doorway of the living room, looking stricken. “Brian,” she says, “I was so excited when we left, … I must have set the oven too high. I’m afraid the roast is ruined.”
Dad makes a sound of angry disgust. “Good God, Laura,” he says. “His first night home … ”
“Hey,” Brian interrupts, “that’s totally fine, Mom. Please don’t worry about it. The truth is, I’m kind of beat anyway. Maybe we could just order pizza or something? I don’t think it’s going to be too long before I crash out hard.”
Mom looks so miserable that I honestly feel sorry for her. “But it’s not much of a celebration meal,” she protests, sounding defeated.
“You know what?” Brian soothes her the way he always did. “To tell you the truth, Mom, I’m a little relieved. I was thinking that you’d gone to all that trouble and here I was, too shot to even really enjoy it. Maybe we could do the big meal in a few days, once I’ve had a chance to rest up a little. We can invite Vicki’s parents. I promise, we’ll celebrate then.”
I glance at Victoria, who’s looking at my brother like he’s hung the moon. Once again I’m reminded of how skilled my brother is at making the people around him happy. In the past I didn’t care much, but now I make a mental note to start watching closely; maybe I can learn something.
“That’s an awesome idea, babe,” Victoria is saying. “I know Mother and Daddy will be thrilled. And you do look tired. I’m sure you’re exhausted after the trip and all the excitement.”
“Oh yes,” Mom agrees. “I don’t know why we didn’t think of that. Mick, why don’t you order the pizza? And after that, it’s right to bed with you, soldier.”
“No mushrooms,” I murmur as Dad starts toward the kitchen. Too much like human flesh.
“Don’t forget the extra mushrooms,” Brian calls, grinning at me.
“Extra mushrooms it is!” Dad agrees without looking back.
I make a face at Brian and show him my middle finger, but I can’t keep from grinning back.
“Brian,” Mom says, wringing her hands nervously. “I’ve set you up in Dov’s room; I hope that’s all right. I just thought it might be tough for you to do the stairs with your … you know … injuries.”
I look at Mom’s anxious face, and in that moment I suddenly understand that it isn’t about Brian not being able to walk up and down a few stairs. Really, Mom just wants the son that she’s worried, and fretted, and cried countless tears over to be physically close to her—at least until she can believe he’s really back home, and safe for good. I imagine she might even get up in the night and walk down the hallway to stand in the doorway of the room, listening in the darkness for the reassuring sound of my brother’s breathing.
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