Safe Distance

by Megan Green

  “No worries. Now go inside.”

  We both hang up and I grab my purse. Looking out the window at the rain crashing down on the asphalt, I try to judge how soaked I’ll get in the distance from my car to the door. I think of just waiting in the car for Ryan, but I need to pee.

  Taking a few deep breaths, I tenaciously throw open the car door. I sprint to the front door, bursting through it with a clatter of bells and squeaky shoes.

  The cashier whips his head around at my entrance. “Dude.”

  Ignoring him, I head toward the bathroom. I take a quick assessment of myself in the mirror. Not too bad. Hair is a little frizzy, but manageable. I run my fingers through it and then move to a stall.

  A few minutes later, I exit the restroom, wiping my hands on a paper towel. Ryan is standing at the counter, handing the cashier a bill. He turns and hands me one of the cups of coffee in his hands.

  “Thanks. You got here fast.”

  He waves a hand. “It’s barely drizzling out there.”

  Leaning around him, I look out the door and see the rain coming down just as hard as it was before.

  “Right. Drizzle.”

  He laughs. “You ready to go?”

  I nod, and he opens the door for me. “I brought Chris’s truck,” he says, gesturing to the red truck from the night we met.

  I sprint to the passenger door and throw myself in the cab. Ryan is not even halfway to the car by the time I turn to look at him.

  He’s soaked by the time he gets in. I shake my head at him.

  “What? It’s just rain. A little water never hurt anybody,” he says, and then he shakes his sopping wet head at me.

  Water splashes all over the cab of the truck. I playfully slap his shoulder. “Asshole.”

  “You were already wet. You’ll dry,” he replies nonchalantly.

  I fold my arms and face forward in my seat. I stick my lower lip out in a pout.

  “Aww, poor baby. I’ll give you a t-shirt to change into back at my place. Will that make you feel better?”

  “No,” I say stubbornly, but I’m unable to help the smile that lifts the corners of my mouth.

  “I saw that,” he laughs, throwing the truck in reverse.

  It takes less than five minute to get to his place. Now I feel even more stupid for making him come get me. I could have driven this far. Deciding it’s not worth the argument, I just follow him inside, getting even more drenched in the process.

  Chris and Emma are cuddled on the couch, watching The Breakfast Club. I look at Ryan.

  “Seriously? You had to tell them?”

  “I didn’t tell them anything. They put that on after I left.”

  Emma speaks up. “The Breakfast Club? It’s my favorite. John Bender is so dreamy.”

  Chris mocks offense at this and she giggles. “Sorry, babe. There’s just something about a reformed bad boy.”

  I laugh. “I literally said those exact words to Ryan the other night.”

  She looks at me and then back at Chris. “See, she knows. Women can’t resist them. Scooch over so she can sit,” she tells him, shoving at his legs.

  “I’m all soaked. I don’t wanna get the couch wet,” I say, shaking my head.

  Ryan interjects. “Come with me. I’ll get you some dry clothes.”

  I follow him. When he pushes open a door and enters what must be his bedroom, I hover outside the door. I’m not following him in there.

  He steps back into the hallway with a white t-shirt and some gym shorts. “These will be way too big, but the shorts have a drawstring so you should be able to cinch them pretty tight. The dryer is behind the closet door in the bathroom. You can throw your clothes in there.”

  I’m not sure I’m comfortable wearing his clothes. There’s something incredibly intimate about it. Girlfriends wear a man’s clothes. But I also don’t really want to sit in these wet clothes the rest of the night. I’m already freezing. Deciding not to read too much into it, I step into the bathroom and quickly undress.

  There’s a hand towel hanging from a rack that looks clean. I grab it, drying myself as best I can with the tiny towel. Grabbing the shorts, I realize I don’t have anything to put on underneath them.

  I look at my underwear on the floor. They aren’t quite as soaked as the rest of my clothes, but they’re still damp. And incredibly uncomfortable. But I don’t really want to go commando in front of three practical strangers.

  I bite my lip. Oh, screw it. I yank the shorts on and toss the shirt over my head. Thank god for my small chest. They likely won’t even notice my lack of a bra.

  I toss my clothes into the dryer and set it on the highest setting. I want to get back into my own clothes as soon as possible.

  I step into the hallway and Ryan is coming back out of his bedroom, rubbing a towel over his hair. Did he really shower in that amount of time?

  He must read the question in my shocked expression, because he shrugs and says, “You learn to do things fast in the military. Now c’mon, before Chris forgets we’re here and starts trying to seduce Emma. It isn’t pretty, trust me.”

  “I heard that,” Chris yells from the living room.

  “Good. You were meant to.”

  I laugh and follow him back to the living room. Ryan pulls a chair out from the card table in the center of the room, gesturing for me to sit. Chris and Emma move to join us.

  “So,” Chris says, rubbing his hands together mischievously. “What should we play first?”

  “Nuh uh,” Ryan says. “We’re not playing anything you want to play. You cheat.”

  “I do not! How dare you taint my flawless reputation?”

  “You do. And you’re a terrible cheater. You always get caught.”

  “Humph. He’s lying, baby. I would never,” he coos at Emma, giving her a peck on the cheek. She beams at him.

  Ugh. These two are worse than Amanda and Justin. But it’s hard to resent their happiness. They’re just so damn cute.

  But when his lips travel over her jaw to her mouth, I decide that’s enough cuteness for now. I cough loudly. “How about bullshit?”

  “I do not cheat. It’s not bullshit,” Chris says, throwing his arms up in the air.

  “No,” I laugh. “Bullshit is a card game. You’ve never played it?” I look around at the three of them, and they all shake their heads.

  “Oh my god. Gimme the deck,” I say, motioning for the cards.

  “Okay,” I say as I shuffle. “The point of the game is to get rid of all the cards in your hand. We start at aces. You put down all the aces in your hand. If you don’t have any, you still try to put down cards. You just hope someone else isn’t holding the cards that can call your bluff. If they do, you have to take all the cards in the pile.” I look up at their confused faces. “We’ll do a practice round.”

  After a few turns around the table, they seem to get the hang of it. Chris especially. His theatrics every time one of us puts down cards crack us all up.

  “Two sixes,” Ryan says as he puts two cards face down on the table.

  Chris looks at his cards and smirks at Ryan. “Buuuuuuullshiiiiiiiit,” he sings in an operatic tone. He gets up from his seat and moves behind Ryan. “Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit,” he chants, right in Ryan’s ear. “Bullshit, Corporal. You are so. Full. Of. Shit.”

  Ryan just rolls his eyes and takes the cards in the middle of the table. Chris giggles like a little girl and claps his hands as he moves back to his seat. “Your turn, baby,” he says, turning to Emma.

  The game continues for another hour or so, Chris providing the comic relief the entire time. After a few times of being Chris’s victim, Ryan starts giving it right back to him. By the time the game is finished, my sides ache from laughing so hard. Emma has moved to the other side of Chris, and the two of us are hunched over in our seats, holding on to each other to keep from falling off our chairs.

  Chris loses the round, because as good as he is at calling bullshit, he’s even worse at bullshit
ting. He throws his cards down on the table.

  “I just want you all to know I let you win. My mom always said gentlemen always let the ladies win,” he says, giving Ryan a pointed look. Ryan throws up his middle finger in response.

  “No thanks. I’ve got better options,” Chris says, pulling Emma from her chair and over to the couch. They collapse there, Emma in Chris’s lap.

  Ryan and I clean up the game and fold the table and chairs. After it’s all put away, we join them on the sofa. I plop down on the couch on one side of Chris, and Ryan sits on the other. Emma immediately moves off Chris’s lap to squeeze between the two of us. “Let’s start the movie over,” she claps.

  She and I spend the entire movie discussing the brilliance that is John Hughes. She’s just as obsessed with his movies as I am. In the middle of discussing our mutual childhood dream of John Cusack showing up outside our bedroom window with a boom box, Chris nudges Ryan.

  “Women, man. Throw one corny line at them and they’re yours forever. It’s too easy.”

  Emma glowers at Chris. “Excuse me? Says the guy who thinks romance is patting my ass and calling me baby. Just once, I’d like to see a guy who’s willing to go to the extreme to show me how much I mean to him. Instead, I’m stuck with this misogynistic asshole.”

  Chris looks genuinely shocked. “Baby—I mean, Emma—I was just playing around. You know how I feel about you.” He tries to pull her back into his lap, but she resists.

  “I do. I’d still be nice to know I’m worth the extra effort though.”

  All the humor drains from Chris’s face and I can practically see the thoughts flying around in his head. He tugs on Emma’s arm again, and this time she acquiesces. She tucks herself into his side as he throws an arm around her shoulders. The two of them are strangely silent.

  I look over the top of their heads at Ryan. Well, that was awkward. I’m pretty sure we just witnessed their first disagreement, however minor it might have been. We share a puzzled look, unsure of what to do next. The awkward silence hangs in the air for several minutes. Finally, Ryan shrugs and stretches his arms over his head.

  “It’s after midnight, dude,” he says to Chris. “We need to hit the hay. Gotta be up early tomorrow. Sarge wants us there for drills by eight.”

  I immediately move to grab my purse, then remember I don’t have my car here. I’ve been so distracted tonight, I completely forgot about the rainstorm. Now that it’s quiet, I can hear the rain still beating down on the rooftop. I look at Ryan, wondering if he’ll give me a ride back to my car or if he expects me to walk.

  “You girls sleep there tonight,” he says, gesturing to the sofa. “It folds out. I’ll give you a ride back to your car in the morning, Haylee. I don’t want you driving in this weather.”

  I open my mouth to object when Emma’s face lights up. “Slumber party!” she squeals. “No boys allowed!” She shoos at Chris, forcing him up off the couch. Once he’s up, she turns her attention to Ryan. “You too. Vámonos!”

  Ryan gives her an amused grin and stands. “Chris, your woman thinks she owns the place. Do something about that, would ya?”

  Chris smiles weakly. The distracted look is still present in his eyes. “What’s mine is hers,” he tells Ryan.

  Ryan groans. Throwing his arms around Chris’s neck, he drags him from the room. “Good night, ladies,” he throws back over his shoulder.

  Emma spends the next few minutes showing me where the extra toothbrushes and other necessities are. She’s obviously stayed here before. And Ryan and Chris either expect to have a lot of visitors, or they have a serious hoarding problem. There are like a hundred toothbrushes in the linen closet. I say as much to Emma and she laughs.”

  “They recently got a Costco membership. Do not—I repeat, do not—be fooled into going there with them. You might not make it out alive. I think they’ve bought half the damn store already. And whenever I ask why they need a zillion cases of water and five thousand toothbrushes, they just say, ‘You never know what could happen, Emma. Someday you’ll be happy we bought five thousand toothbrushes,’” she says in a deep voice, her hands on her hips.

  I laugh at her impression of the guys. She leans in and bumps me with her shoulder and we share a smile. Heading back to the living room, we unfold the couch and make ourselves comfy. It really feels like a sleepover from when we were kids. At least, what I imagine a sleepover would have been like, you know, had I ever been invited to one.

  “Truth or dare?” Emma asks in the darkness.

  “What?” I ask incredulously.

  “Oh, come on. You know this one. Truth or dare?”

  I ponder the question. How sad is it that this is the first time I’ve actually played this game? I’m not sure what to expect. Tentatively, I respond, “Um, truth.”

  Emma is silent for several moments. I start to panic. What if she asks something I don’t want to answer? I barely know this girl. How personal does this game get? I start to tell her I want to switch to dare when she speaks.

  “What’s your favorite color?”

  Relief floods my chest and I exhale loudly. “Blue.”

  “Okay, my turn. Ask me.”

  “Truth or dare?”

  “Dare.”

  I draw a blank. What the hell am I supposed to dare this girl to do after midnight in an unfamiliar house? “Uhh…”

  “Dare me to go into Chris’s room. Dare me to go in there and give him a goodnight kiss.” Her voice is almost pleading.

  “Um, okay. I dare you to go give Chris a goodnight kiss.”

  She jumps off the mattress and darts to his room. I hear his confused voice as she enters his room.

  “Emma? Are you okay?”

  “Yep. I have to do this. Haylee dared me to.” They’re both silent for a long moment. Then, very hoarsely, I hear Emma say, “Good night, Chris.”

  “Night, Em. I love you.”

  She’s back in the living room at this point, crawling back into bed next to me. “I love you too,” she says quietly. But I know he hears it because I hear the sigh of relief that escapes his lips as he gets up and closes his bedroom door.

  “Thanks. I knew I’d never get to sleep knowing he was upset. But I’m stubborn.” I feel her shrug next to me. I laugh softly.

  “Truth or dare?” she asks again.

  I thought she’d want to go to bed after that, but I guess not. “Truth.”

  “Wimp.”

  I laugh loudly and immediately clap my hands over my mouth. Shit. I hope I didn’t wake up Ryan.

  “Don’t worry. That guy could sleep through a freight train driving through his room. He literally has slept through an earthquake, according to Chris.”

  Pondering how the details of that story played out, my thoughts are cut off when Emma asks, “Have you ever been in love?”

  My heart drops and my blood runs cold. After her first question, I wasn’t expecting that. “No,” I respond shortly.

  Emma sighs. “Some days I wish I could still say the same. Don’t get me wrong. I love Chris. More than I ever thought possible. But it’s hard, ya know?”

  I stay silent. She has no idea of the atrocities “love” can bring.

  “I know we’ve only been dating a little while, but he’s different. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. And when I’m not with him, he’s all I can think about. He’s it for me. I know it. Never been more certain of anything in my life.”

  She sounds so happy as she talks about him, and I have to ask, “So what’s the problem? Doesn’t sound hard to me. You’re not really upset about that little spat earlier, are you?”

  “Pfft, no.” She waves her hand. “I was just giving him shit. Chris isn’t a grand-romantic-gesture kinda guy. But I know he loves me. I had no idea he’d take it so personally.”

  “Then what?”

  “What am I gonna do when he’s gone, Haylee?” she asks, the desperation clear in her voice.

  “Gone? Emma, you have a long time befor
e you have to start worrying about that. He’s not even twenty-five.”

  “Oh, god. I don’t mean when he’s dead. Jesus, don’t even talk about that,” she says in a panicked voice. “I mean, how am I gonna survive when he’s deployed? They leave in two weeks.”

  My heart sinks again. Ryan is leaving in two weeks? I know he said he had another tour coming up soon, but I had no idea it was that soon. A million questions start racing through my mind, but I force myself to focus on Emma.

  “He’s been my whole world these past few months. I don’t know what I’m going to do. How can I sleep, knowing he’s halfway across the world? Not knowing what he’s doing. Not knowing if he’s okay.”

  She’s quiet for a few moments. When she speaks again, there’s a new tone in her voice. Determined. Hopeful.

  “But then I tell myself how stupid I’m being. How selfish. How lucky am I? I have this amazing guy who loves me. And who loves his country. I know how important his job is to him. He loves what he does. And here I am, worrying about what I’m going to do with my time while he’s gone.”

  I interrupt her. “Your concerns are valid, Emma. I’m sure every military couple goes through the same. I can’t even imagine having to wonder if the one I loved was going to make it home to me. The thought is terrifying.

  She snuggles in close to me. “I already can’t sleep for thinking about it. I’m going to be a basket case when he’s actually gone.”

  I’m the last person that should be offering relationship advice, but I want to reassure her. I don’t like seeing this normally happy, upbeat girl so…down. I try to think of what Amanda would say to her if she were here.

  “You’re going to be fine. And so is he. He loves you. It’s obvious in the way he looks at you. He’ll be back before you know it, and you guys will live happily ever after. I just know it. And in the meantime, you can hang out with me. And Amanda. Between the two of us, we should be able to get your mind off Chris being gone for a little while.” I pat her arm reassuringly.

  She throws her arm across me and hugs me. “Thanks, Haylee. I can already tell we’re going to be great friends.”

  And for all our differences and her quirkiness, I can’t help but agree. Something about this girl just draws you in. You can’t help but love her. Just like Chris. They really are perfect for each other. “Me too, Em. Now let’s get some sleep.”