by Naomi Niles
“More people should want to be like you,” said Renee. “I mean, look at you. You’re so much more put together than I am. You have a career, and you’ve done some award-winning reporting, and you’re in a steady relationship with the world’s most amazing man.”
I began to get the uncomfortable feeling that Renee wished she was dating Zack instead of Max.
“Renee, listen to me,” I said slowly. “You don’t want to be me. I realize I might have given you the impression that my whole life is in order, but that’s because I’m solitary and secretive and don’t talk to you much about my personal failings. Which, I’m really sorry about that. Maybe if I had been more open with you, you wouldn’t have gotten the wrong idea. The reality is, I’m a mess. I’m probably about to be fired from my job, and I spend about half of each day panicking instead of writing because I don’t think I’m qualified or capable. I’ve had exactly one decent relationship in my life, and so far it’s lasted all of about three days—and that’s only because I’m a doormat and never express my true feelings. The second he finds out how I really feel about various things, he’ll probably break up with me, and honestly I’m just waiting for the day because I know it’s coming sooner or later. That’s what you have to look forward to if you want to become me.”
In the long pause that followed, I began to wonder if I had permanently derailed the conversation. It would be hard to follow up with the latest celebrity gossip after an outburst like that.
“The thing I’ve always wished for you,” Renee said finally, and with some effort, “is that you could see yourself the way everyone around you sees you. Maybe then you wouldn’t panic so much. Maybe then you could enjoy being you.”
“Maybe,” I said skeptically. “But then I wouldn’t really be me, would I? The worry and panic and all the rest, it seems like such an integral part of the whole Kelli experience.”
Renee shook her head. “No, I think somewhere there’s a Kelli who’s capable of being fearless and happy. I hope to see more of that Kelli some day.”
I folded some stir-fry noodles around my fork without raising it to my mouth. “As long as we’re being honest,” I said, “I always sort of envied how good you were with people, how confident you were in the things you did, and in how much you seemed to enjoy life. I had no idea, until you told me just now, how much of your life you spent wanting to be someone else.”
“I only seem confident because I don’t talk much about how afraid I am,” said Renee, with the perfect simplicity of a child.
“Both of us growing up in fear, afraid even to talk about what we’re afraid of.” I shook my head. “I wonder if Africa will ever stop hurting us.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Zack
I awoke the next morning in a patch of warm summer sunlight. It felt like a day for staying late in bed, making myself some breakfast and maybe working on my book—and for a single joyous instant I really thought I was going to do all those things. But then I remembered the awards banquet at the Foundry and shot out of bed with a groan of despair.
I had never cared much for awards ceremonies. They were dull and vaguely dishonest; everyone was expected to smile and to avoid talking about anything serious or relevant. The fact that I was being honored somehow made it worse. No civilian really knew the sort of dangers a SEAL faces in combat, the decisions we have to make. I doubted whether most of the people in the audience really cared to know. They would show up and drink champagne and congratulate themselves for supporting us by showing up. And I would have to shake their hands and pretend I was grateful for their support.
As I washed my face and put on my uniform, I tried to think of excuses for leaving the ceremony early and coming back to my apartment with Kelli. If she hadn’t agreed to go with me, I wouldn’t have wanted to go at all.
I was still putting in my contact lenses when I heard the phone buzz in the other room. I ran to it, thinking maybe it was her. But it was only Darren, my brother.
I shoved my annoyance to the side and picked up the phone. “Hey Darren, what’s going on?”
“Hey, brother,” said Darren. He was slurring his words slightly, and I might have thought he was drunk if I didn’t know that was just how he talked. “Me and the rest of the family just wanted to call and congratulate you on your big day. We’re sorry we couldn’t make it out there, but I figured you’ll be home in a few weeks and we’ll throw you a party.”
The family loved throwing me parties; they did it pretty much anytime I returned home. Last time, they had even thrown me one before I left. “Well, you can throw me one when I come home in a week or two,” I said. “And this time I might be bringing a friend.”
I could almost hear Darren’s ears perking up on the other end. “Is this a lady friend?” he asked.
“Damn right it is. We’ll have to find some place for her to sleep. I know Mama won’t approve of us sleeping together.”
“Hell, you ought to just do it anyway,” said Darren. “I was really hopin’ you would get back together with Lindsay.”
“Was that her name?”
“Yeah, you don’t remember Lindsay? You shared her bed for like a month.”
“I remember her being a little crazy. Anyway, can’t wait for you to meet this new girl.”
“She better be hot,” said Darren. “Anyway, I’d better run. Peace.” He hung up.
I shook my head and returned to the bathroom. Out of all my brothers, I had probably been closest to Darren growing up. It was strange because in a lot of ways we were the most different. He was the guy who had once set off the fire alarm so he could sneak into the coach’s office and hide a raccoon in his filing cabinet. I had made decent grades and joined the Navy right out of high school. If we hadn’t been brothers, my parents would have warned me to stay away from him. As it was, he was the problem kid our other friends’ parents warned them to stay away from.
On the way over to Kelli’s apartment, I thought about potentially going home in the next couple weeks. I still had to ask Kelli whether she wanted to go, but I couldn’t imagine her saying no unless she was unable to get time off work. I had a feeling my parents would approve of her. A year ago, I had been dating a shady schoolteacher; now, I had graduated to a big-city reporter. She was definitely a step up.
When I tapped at the door of her apartment, Renee opened the door. Her eyes were red and splotchy, and she looked like she had been crying.
“Hey,” she said without much enthusiasm. “Kelli is still straightening her hair. I told her she looked fine, but she’s not listening. Maybe you can talk some sense into her.” She opened the door wider and motioned for me to come inside.
Renee went over to the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of orange juice. “I’d offer you some wine, but this is all we have. Sorry.”
“There’ll be plenty of champagne at the reception,” I replied. “Anyway, I don’t mind drinking orange juice. It always reminds me of breakfasts with my mom.”
Renee smiled as she brought the glass over to the table and set it down. “You’re sweet.” She allowed her hand to linger on my shoulder for about half a second too long.
I was debating whether I should leave and go find Kelli when she emerged from the back bedroom. She was wearing a long strapless white dress with gold sequins and a pair of black heels, and she had pinned up her hair in a beehive like a secretary from a 1950s workplace drama. “You ready to go?” she asked.
I threw a wary glance at Renee, who was staring miserably at her reflection in the microwave. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”
As we were making our way through Midtown a few minutes later, I asked her, “Is your sister okay?”
“She’s been having a rough time lately,” said Kelli. “Apparently her boyfriend is thinking about breaking up with her.”
“He thinks?” I said in disbelief. “He doesn’t know?”
“That’s what I said! It really feels like he’s stringing her along, just toying with her af
fections to see how she’ll react. I think maybe he wants to see if she’s really committed to the relationship, almost like a test, but it seems needlessly cruel. I told her she should just go ahead and break up with him.”
I didn’t know enough about the situation to have an opinion. We had only spoken for a few minutes, but Max seemed like a decent guy. “You excited about the banquet?”
“Yeah. Woo.” Kelli shook one hand in the air as if waving a flag. “Can’t wait.”
“That’s about how I feel.” We turned onto the feeder road, where a man in a yellow vest motioned for us to move forward. “For the amount of time we’re gonna be spending there, they better at least feed us right.”
“It must be nice to only have to worry about the feed,” Kelli said in an acid tone.
I pulled the car over to the side of the road and brought it to an abrupt halt.
“Hey,” I said gently. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she said. “It’s just—well, I wouldn’t be going to this meeting unless you really wanted me there. I don’t know if you realize how scary this is to me.”
“What, do you think somebody’s gonna stab you?”
“It isn’t funny,” said Kelli. She stuck out her lip in a pouty way. It would have been adorable if she hadn’t been mad at me. “I’ve been really hurt, and I have no idea what to expect when I go in there.”
I reached over and laid a hand on her knee. “Listen, sweetums: you’re my date and I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. Anybody in there wants to mess with you, they’re gonna be messing with me.”
“If you say so,” said Kelli. I pressed on the gas, and we continued on our way.
As it turned out, though, she had nothing to worry about. When we entered the grand ballroom a few minutes later, with its long tables covered in fine linen cloth, cut-glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and hundreds of red, white, and blue balloons, the room froze for a second. Then, the hundreds of SEALs and their guests erupted in spontaneous applause.
Carson was the first to run forward and greet us. “You two are still dating?” he exclaimed, as if it was unheard of for a man to go out with the same woman for longer than a few days.
“Yes,” I said. “We’ve been dating since I got back.” When Carson gaped at me in astonishment, I said, “You know this. We were literally just talking about it.”
Carson blinked rapidly and directed his attention to Kelli. “This man giving you a hard time?”
“You know, he’s alright,” said Kelli, twining a strand of my hair around one finger. She looked more at her ease after the welcome we had just gotten. “I think I might keep him around for a bit longer before I trade him in for a younger model.”
Carson laughed as if it was the funniest thing he had heard in weeks, which it probably was.
While they were catching up, I noticed Sergeant Armstrong waving me over from the other side of the room. “Excuse me for a second,” I told Kelli, and I went over to see him.
Armstrong shook my hand firmly. “You glad to be back in the states?”
“I’m glad to be out of Libya, that’s for damn sure,” I replied.
It was strange to see Armstrong here in a setting like this. He looked slightly uncomfortable, like he would rather have been back in the barracks doing leg sprints.
“Listen, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you about,” he said. “There’s a recruitment job that’s opened up in our Brooklyn office. I think you’d be the perfect man for the job, and I wouldn’t hesitate to write you a recommendation?”
“Me? Really?” I felt flattered; Armstrong’s was about the only praise that had the power to move me.
“Don’t act so surprised,” he said, grabbing a grilled asparagus and a cup of sparkling water off a passing tray. “You’re intensely enthusiastic about your job, and you have a passion for it that inspires people. Plus, you’re one of the better communicators in our platoon. If you want the job, you can have it.”
I don’t know what compelled me to say it; maybe I was still so taken aback that I wasn’t thinking straight. “It’s really kind of you to offer me the position,” I said, “but I don’t know if I’m gonna have time. Right now, I’m writing a memoir, and God only knows how long that’ll take. A year, maybe.”
Sergeant Armstrong’s face fell; he looked disappointed, but there was something else—was it worry? Alarm? Whatever it was, I immediately began to regret having divulged my secret.
“Well, anyway, think about it,” he said, clapping me once on the shoulders. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
He left. I watched him go with an uneasy feeling, wishing I could take back the words I had just said. He didn’t look too happy, and I was left to wonder if it was really possible to lose a person’s good opinion so easily.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kelli
The refreshments table over by the choir stand had summer sausages, smoked salmon cakes, salted crackers, five different kinds of cheese, toasted ravioli, Greek spinach dip, asparagus, and pistachio bruschetta. These alone almost made the trip worth it, but what I was really after were the drinks. There was a bubbly, fizzy drink the pale amber color of ginger ale. I wasn’t much of a drinker—I hadn’t taken my first sip of alcohol until I was twenty-three—and I couldn’t tell the difference between champagne and sparkling punch, but I knew this was one of the two, and I liked it.
Zack and Carson came looking for me and found me standing over against the refreshments table. I was holding a clear plastic cup and sucking on a Thin Mint. Carson held up a lumpy pear, out of which he had taken exactly one bite.
“They really didn’t skimp on this, did they?” He motioned to the table with its perfectly folded napkins and chocolate fountain. “Almost makes me wish we could have one of these every day.”
“I, for one, will be glad when it’s over,” said Zack, echoing my own feelings. “I can’t wait to go home and get out of this uniform, maybe play some Mario Kart.” I had an odd feeling he was trying to make himself sound lazier than he really is. If I had to guess, he would be working on his secret book all night.
“Same,” said Carson, setting the pear down on a corner of the table and picking up a piece of dark chocolate. “If I wasn’t here, I’d probably be chilling in my apartment eating a frozen pizza. One of those gross, messy pizzas you can get in the freezer aisle at Wal-Mart for like two dollars, that come out of the oven just dripping in grease.”
“Okay, now you’re making me hungry,” said Zack, walking over and grabbing a paper plate off the stack. “If they actually served those pizzas here instead of whatever this is, it might have been worth getting out of bed for.”
“You mean you don’t like eating mini peppers stuffed with goat cheese or whatever the hell this is?” asked Carson sarcastically. He shook his head and made a tsk-ing noise with his tongue. “And I thought I knew you.”
“There’s only so much you can learn about a man when you’re forced to eat the same meal together every day for ten months.” Zack bit the end off of a stuffed pepper, made a disgusted look, and scraped it onto my plate. “Kelli, if you thought the Congo was bad, you should’ve eaten with us in Libya.”
“Was it really that bad?” I asked Carson.
Carson took a bite of his pear. “Let’s just say I won’t complain if I never have to eat Spam again in my life.”
“Almost makes me appreciate the salmon cakes,” said Zack, spearing a white cheese cube with a toothpick and putting it in his mouth. In the process, he jostled me with his elbow, and the fizzy drink went flying out of my hands onto the carpet.
“Sorry about that,” said Zack, throwing the stain on the carpet a regretful look. “Damn good drink.”
“At least there’s plenty more of it,” said Carson. “Anyway, what’ve you got going on tonight? Wanna come over and play Smash Bros.?”
I had rather hoped that Zack would be coming back to my place. I turned back to the refresh
ments, trying not to make it obvious that I was listening to his response. I filled one of the smaller plates with cheddar cheese cubes and dark chocolate, and then, because my appetite for that sparkling drink was insatiable, I grabbed a second cup. But my hands must still have been slippery from when Zack jostled me, for the cup slipped out of my fingers the second I picked it up. Fizzy amber-colored liquid spilled all over the front of my dress.
I swore under my breath, and for a second it was hard to see clearly because I was so mortified. Zack and Carson were still talking about getting together that night and didn’t seem to have noticed what had happened. I murmured an apology and ran to the back of the room, toward the restrooms.
There, I surveyed the damage. It was even worse than I’d feared: the liquid had soaked through the top of the dress, exposing my blue bra to public view. I swore again, loudly, and slammed my fist against the mirror as if thinking my reflection was somehow to blame for what had happened.
All at once, I was transported back to my first year in high school. I was fifteen, and we had just returned from Somalia where I had spent most of my childhood. Things like Nintendo and going to the movies with friends on a Friday night and deodorant were foreign concepts. And I remembered sitting in the cafeteria on the first day and crying because the other girls had done up their hair in lovely braids, or had cut it fashionably short with bleached blond highlights, and I had no idea how to wear mine, and it was just a long, tangled mess. And there were stains on the front of my dress and a mysterious smell followed me everywhere and no one wanted to sit next to me.
When Zack knocked on the door of the bathroom about twenty minutes later, I was sitting in one of the stalls, crying.
“You okay, shortbread?” I heard him say. “I don’t want to come all the way in there because I don’t want to get in trouble, but when you didn’t answer my texts I thought I ought to come check on you.”
“I’m fine,” I said, though the lump in my voice instantly gave me away. “I’ll be out in a minute.”