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Safe Distance

Page 14

by Megan Green


  Joey lays three cards facedown between us. “I have three twos,” he says, giving me his best poker face. Apparently he doesn’t realize this game doesn’t work with two people. I look down at my own cards and can already tell he’s bluffing. I have two twos, so there’s no way he can have three.

  “Umm, bullshit,” I say, and he reaches down to pick up the cards again.

  “Ugh, how could you tell, man? There was no way you read that in my face. I’m a pro at this game. Never lost once growing up.”

  I fling the cards in my hand at his head. “Maybe because this game doesn’t work with two people, dingus. If I have all the cards you don’t have, I can automatically tell when you’re bullshitting me. You can’t be that good at this game if you didn’t realize that.”

  “Huh. Guess I never thought of that. I used to play it with different girls in high school all the time. Just the two of us. Only we’d play strip bullshit. Anytime they lost, they had to take off an article of clothing. Always ended up the winner there, if you get what I’m saying.” He waggles his eyebrows at me and winks.

  “Yeah, well, those were either the stupidest girls on the planet, or they intentionally lost to get some. Must have been pretty desperate if they were resorting to you.”

  He reaches over with his good arm and slugs me in the thigh. “Asshole. I’ll have you know every one of those girls called me up, begging for a rematch. Couldn’t get enough of this.” He grabs his crotch and gives it a squeeze. I roll my eyes and look away.

  “Ugh. I’m going to have nightmares the rest of my life because of that image. Thank you for that.”

  I’m looking toward the door when I see Sarge and Chris walk in. A grin immediately breaks out across my face. This is the first time I’ve seen Chris since I woke up. The guys were out on a mission so he wasn’t able to visit. That’s the only reason I’m still here. The medics figured I could just relax and rest up until the rest of my team got back. Hopefully now they’ll let me go back with them.

  I get up off the bed and head toward Chris. When I reach him, I throw my arms around him and pull him close. We clap each other on the back a few times, hanging on to each other for a few seconds longer than necessary. I’ve never felt so glad to see someone in my entire life.

  “Holy shit, Chris, I never thought I’d say this, but it’s good to see your ugly mug again.”

  He gives me a half smile, the emotion not reaching his eyes. “Good to see you too, buddy. Really good. You really had us scared there for a bit.”

  Shit. He’s being somber and serious. Chris is never somber and serious, which only means there’s bad news he doesn’t want to share. Have I been discharged for failing to protect my companion? For being a weak link in the team and putting my fellow soldiers at risk? The thought hadn’t occurred to me before, but now I know that’s why they’re here. Sarge brought Chris along to soften the blow. The army is ashamed of me. Hell, I can’t blame them. I’m ashamed of me too.

  “So, what is it? What are they going to put on my papers? Will it be a dishonorable discharge?”

  Chris looks over at Sarge and then back to me, a genuine look of puzzlement on his face. “What in the hell are you talking about, Porter? Nobody is getting discharged. Why in fuck’s sake would you think that?”

  Now my thoughts are racing. What the hell are they here for, then? Did something happen to one of the guys while they were out? Or to someone back home?

  My thoughts immediately fly to Haylee. My heart hammers in my chest and my breathing quickens. Chris must have gotten a letter from Emma saying something has happened to Haylee. If something bad happened to her while I was away and not able to protect her, I’ll never forgive myself. Please let her be okay, I silently pray to whoever might be listening. Please. I can’t lose her. Not after everything else. It’ll crush me.

  I look back at Chris, all hints of humor gone from my face. “What are you doing here, Chris? Why is Sarge with you? Something is going on and you better fucking tell me right now.”

  Chris runs his hand over his head and looks down at the floor. “Shit, man. I don’t know how to tell you this.”

  My heart feels like it’s going to pound right out of my chest. He won’t look at me. Why won’t he look at me? God dammit. I should have been more open with Haylee. Let her know how I really felt. Let her know just how much she came to mean to me in such a short amount of time. I feel my throat closing. I can’t catch my breath. I reach for the bed behind me, all but collapsing onto it.

  “What happened to her?” I barely manage to get the words out. The room feels like it’s spinning around me. This can’t be happening. Not now. Not after what I just went through with Chris and Joey. And my father and Noah. I can’t lose someone else I love. I can’t.

  “Drug overdose. She’s in a coma right now. Doctors don’t know when or if she’ll come out of it. They’re doing everything they can. But we’ve got you booked on the first flight out of here, just in case. I knew you’d want to be with her.”

  This doesn’t make sense. Haylee doesn’t do drugs. She barely even drinks. There has to be a mistake.

  “What are you talking about? Drug overdose? The girl hardly touched a drop of alcohol the whole time I was with her. There’s no way Haylee was on drugs. I would have known.”

  “Haylee?” Chris asks, clearly perplexed. “Who said anything about Haylee? Your mom, man. She’s not doing so hot. You need to get your ass off that bed and to the airport. Now.”

  As soon as I hear that Haylee is safe, a weight lifts off my shoulders. I want to collapse against the bed and cry tears of relief. Then Chris’s other words register. My mom.

  My mom!

  Several flight changes and many hours later, the little commuter plane I’m on finally touches down at a small airport just outside New York City. I have an hour to race to JFK to make the flight that will take me home. I grab my bag and rush to the street.

  A cab is already there waiting, the driver holding the rear passenger door open. He looks at me expectantly. “Corporal Porter?”

  I nod, jogging to the cab. Sarge and Chris must be behind this. They knew I wouldn’t want to wait the extra time it takes to track down a cab. I send them a silent thank you as I throw my bag into the back seat and crawl in after.

  The driver climbs in the front and takes off. I wonder if he knows where he’s supposed to take me. I quickly call out, “JFK, please.”

  The driver nods, looking as if he did in fact already know this. I lean back in my seat and close my eyes. The flight across the Atlantic was exhausting. I wasn’t able to sleep at all. Each time I closed my eyes, all I saw was my mother lying in a hospital bed, completely alone. I would jolt awake, feeling the guilt of not being there for her when she needed me.

  I know these thoughts are completely absurd, but I am unable to control them. If I had been there, she would have had me to talk to. She would have been able to come to me and let me know what was wrong. But I left. Knowing how fragile she was, I left her all alone. Because I have some ridiculous need to prove myself to the world. To show that losing my father and brother was hard, but that something good is still able to come from this family. I went off to play hero when I should have been taking care of my broken mother.

  Plagued by guilt, I toss these thoughts around over and over until the cab driver finally pulls to a stop. I look around, seeing bumper-to-bumper traffic but no sign of the airport.

  “Sorry, sir,” he says. “The traffic this close to the airport is a nightmare. I saw you only had one bag with you, so I thought I’d wake you up to see if you might just want to take the rest of it on foot. I was told you had somewhere pretty important to be. I would hate for you to miss your flight because of this.”

  I don’t bother correcting his assumption that I’d been sleeping. I grab my bag and move to get out of the car. Suddenly, I remember that I have no money to pay for this. In my hurry to get to the plane, I didn’t think about money or anything else. Just threw a few
things into a bag and ran out of the barracks.

  I look at the information card behind the man’s seat. His name is Tony. “Err, Tony. I’m so sorry. I just realized I don’t have any money on me. If we could just—”

  “No, sir,” he interrupts, turning to look at me. “You don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure it’s taken care of. You just get to where you need to be. Consider it just one small thank you for what you do over there for our country. I’m honored to be driving you.”

  I reach over the seat and clap him on the shoulder. “You’re a good man. I’m nobody special, but this means a lot to me. So thank you. If there’s any way I can repay you, please get in contact. Ryan Porter. Someone on base will get you my information. I’ll be sure to let them know I’m expecting your call.”

  He shakes his head, gesturing for me to get out of the car. “No worries, you hear me? Get yourself out of this car and to that airport. You have more important places to be right now.”

  I thank him once more and jump out of the car. Racing through the cars stopped in the street, I reach the sidewalk and start dodging people instead. Why are there so many people in this damn city? Can’t they see I’m in a hurry?

  After what feels like forever, I finally make it to the airport. I glance at the switchboard, seeing that my flight is on time and is now boarding. Fan-freaking-tastic. I still need to make it through security.

  Rounding the corner to the security checkpoint, I’m met with the longest line in history. My shoulders droop. I’m never going to make it on time. I step behind the last person in line and let out a sigh. The woman in front of me turns and gives me a once-over. Seeing my uniform, she asks, “Just getting back from Iraq?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say weakly, unable to raise my eyes to meet hers. I don’t feel like talking right now.

  “Well, why so glum? One would think you’d be happy to be back home with your loved ones,” she responds cheerily, obviously trying to brighten my mood.

  I shrug. “Actually, ma’am, I’m not back because my tour is up. I’m back because my mom is in the hospital and they aren’t sure if she’s going to make it. I have special permission to be here, just in case she doesn’t. My flight leaves in ten minutes, and I’m not going to be on it because of the traffic in this godforsaken city.” Realizing my words and remembering my manners, I add, “Pardon me, ma’am. That was uncalled for.”

  She looks at me with sorrow in her eyes. “Well, that just won’t do, will it? You wait right here.”

  The small woman steps out of line and heads to the security guard at the front of the line. Leaning toward him, she whispers something in his ear. He responds, gesturing to the others in line. She frowns, squares her shoulders, and takes a step back.

  “Listen here, people,” she shouts, surprisingly loud for someone so tiny. “This young man back here has just returned from Iraq with special permission to see his ill mother. He needs to be on a flight leaving in ten minutes. Does anybody here object to him jumping to the front of the line? If you do, kindly step over here and I will remind you what it means to live in this great country and what this young man puts on the line for you every single day. Now, any objections?”

  The look she gives everyone clearly says that if they do have a problem, they’d best keep their mouth shut if they know what’s good for them. She waves me over to her. I could kiss her for how grateful I am to her. “Thank you,” I say, stopping in front of her.

  “Shoo. You go. No time to be wasting here. Get your behind moving.”

  I look at the others in line, not wanting to cause any problems. Every single one of them smiles at me and nods for me to move ahead. I reach the security guard and he quickly passes over me with the wand.

  “Nothing illegal on you, son? Obviously some metal, but no guns or weapons of any sort?” I assure him I have nothing and he steps aside to let me pass. I know he could potentially lose his job for this, and I quickly take notice of his nametag. Charles. I’m going to have a lot of people to thank once this ordeal is over.

  I make it to my gate with just minutes to spare. I thrust my boarding pass at the attendant and run down the boarding gate to the plane. As soon as I step foot inside, I take a deep breath. I made it.

  Finding my seat, I see an elderly man in the seat next to mine. His eyes are closed and his fingers are linked over his belly. Good. Hopefully he’ll sleep for the entire flight. After all that, I’m really not in the mood for a chatty seatmate.

  I stow my bag in the overhead bin and settle in. Within minutes, the plane begins takeoff preparations. Once we’ve reached cruising altitude, I relax and try to get some sleep. I may be plagued by awful nightmares, but I need to be strong for my mom. I close my eyes and slowly drift off to sleep.

  A violent shaking jostles me from sleep. My hands fly to the armrests, my back rigid and my eyes scanning the area around me. It takes several moments for me to remember where I am. The little man who’d been sleeping when I boarded is now wide awake. He glances at me curiously.

  “Just a little turbulence, son. Captain turned on the fasten seatbelt light. So buckle up and go back to sleep. We’ll be there before you know it.”

  I shake my head. There’s no way I’ll be able to go back to sleep now. I glance at my watch, seeing I was asleep for about an hour. We’re more than halfway there. Anxious thoughts start running through my head. What if she’s already gone? What if I’m not there in time?

  The man misinterprets the worry that must be etched on my face because he continues. “We’re safe as houses. Little turbulence never hurt anybody. I’d have thought you’d be used to it. This can’t be your first time on a plane.” He gestures to the badges on my uniform, signifying my years in the military. He knows I’m not a new recruit.

  “No, sir. I’ve flown dozens of times. It’s not the turbulence. I’ve got some personal worries waiting for me at home.”

  He nods knowingly. “Ahh. Nervous about seeing your girl?” he says, giving me a sly smile.

  Oh how I wish it were something that simple. My mind briefly flashes to Haylee, but I know I won’t be seeing her on this trip. I just have a few days to spend with my mom. I need to make up for the past few years. Looking back at the man, I shake my head.

  “Well, what is it, then?”

  I look at him. He’s old. Older than I first thought. With his thin gray hair and wrinkled skin, I’d guess he’s in his late eighties. But the glint in his eyes reminds me of my father. A genuine caring for other people.

  “What’s your name, son?” he asks when I don’t answer his question.

  “Ryan, sir. Ryan Porter.”

  He extends his hand. “I’m Ed. Eddie to my friends. Nice to meet you, Ryan. Are you just getting home?”

  I nod.

  “How long were you out?”

  “Only a few months. I’m actually only on a temporary leave. My mom is in the hospital. They don’t think she’s going to make it. I’m trying to get there before she passes.”

  “Shit. That’s tough.”

  I laugh at his bluntness. “Yes, sir. It is.”

  “Knock it off with that sir business. Makes me feel old.”

  I smile at him.

  “I ain’t old. Sure, I may look it, but it’s what you feel in here that really counts,” he says, tapping the side of his head. “And up here, I’m still twenty-two.”

  I laugh, loving his outlook. “Well then, Eddie. Since that makes me your elder, I guess you’d better be the one calling me sir.”

  He waves his hand. “Pssh. I’m too damn old to be calling anybody sir. Got sweaters that are older than you, kid.”

  He laughs with me at his contradiction. I appreciate the momentary distraction from my problems, but all too soon they flood my mind again.

  “Your mom sick?” he asks, seeing the worry return to my eyes.

  “You could say that.” When he doesn’t respond, I look up at him. He’s looking at me expectantly, like he’s waiting for me to continue
. Well, hell. I’m never going to see this guy again. Might do me some good to get it all out there.

  “My dad and brother died when I was eleven. My mom and dad were the ultimate couple. Loved each other more than anything. Even after years of marriage, Noah and I would catch them sneaking kisses wherever they could and flirting with each other.

  “After he died, my mom went off the deep end. Losing Noah only added to it. She started to drink. And when that wasn’t enough to dull the pain, she turned to drugs. When she couldn’t afford the drugs, she turned to men. She became completely unable to take care of me. I moved in with my best friend and his family when they found out. They didn’t want me to end up in foster care. So they took me in.

  “I would check in with her every so often. And Chris’s mom, Carrie, made sure she stayed fed. Tried to get her into rehab. But Mom was just too far gone. After I graduated and joined the military, she told me she couldn’t take losing me too. That if I insisted on going through with this, then I was already dead to her. She said she wouldn’t see another one of her boys in a coffin. Since then, I haven’t spoken to her.”

  Eddie gives me a sad look. “She’s in a coma. Overdose, apparently. Guess she finally took it a step too far.” My voice breaks and a tear streams down my cheek.

  Eddie grips my hand. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a travel pack of tissues. What is it with old dudes and always having tissues? I wonder. I’m grateful for it at the moment, however. I take the pack, pulling one out and wiping my eyes. Eddie stays silent, so I continue.

  “I should’ve been there. Taken care of her. Instead, I left her. I knew how bad off she was. And I left anyway. What kind of son am I? Who would do that to their own mother? And now it’s my fault. It’s my fucking fault she’s dying. Because I was too selfish to just fucking be there for her.”

  At that, Eddie breaks his silence. “Now that’s bullshit.” I snap my head up in surprise and he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, son, but it is. You can’t blame yourself for that. She did that to herself. It wasn’t your fault your father and brother died. And it’s not your fault your mom reacted the way she did. You were too young to do anything. She should have gotten the help she needed. That’s on her. Don’t you dare put that on yourself.”

 

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