by Dinah McLeod
“Shelby, I called you over here because I have a problem.”
I nodded, but decided not to speak this time, at the risk of sticking my foot in my mouth again.
“Do you know what my problem is?”
“No, sir.”
“Dave up and quit this morning. Apparently he’s found himself, or some crap like that and knows that his calling is to be a musician. Course, come to think of it, I’m pretty sure I hired him after his last band broke up, but what can you do?”
I nodded, trying to seem sympathetic even as I wondered what this had to do with me. “I see.”
“So what I was wondering, you’ve been here for a while now, you know the people. I thought you might be able to suggest a replacement.”
I blinked at him, once, twice, my mind whirling. Dave had been the night manager since our location stayed open until eleven. I knew Dana, as a single mother of young kids, probably wouldn’t be able to manage the late hours. The other employees were mostly college kids who I doubted would be interested in the job for long even if they took it. “Honestly, sir, I’m not sure I’m the right person to ask.”
Greg nodded, his face all seriousness. “Well, the thing is, I thought you might recommend yourself.”
I went back to blinking at him in surprise. It was some minutes before I was able to compose a reply. “Why would I do that?”
“You’re a hard working girl, Shelby. You’re responsible. I figure you could use the money, since you’re working here in the first place.” A wry smile touched his lips, the first I could attest to having seen. “And you always remember to take the ice cream machine down, which makes you better than Dave already, in my book.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but only out of habit. I quickly snapped it shut when I realized I had nothing to say. My mind was still spinning. What was he doing? I’d come over here, expecting to be reprimanded at the very least and he was offering me a promotion? Could we use the money? Absolutely! If the pay raise was decent and meant more hours, maybe we could afford a decent apartment with a working showerhead! Dean would be thrilled!
“Don’t keep me waiting all day, now. What do you say?”
“Yes, thank you!” I said enthusiastically. Impulsively, I jumped up and hugged Greg, whose face turned a shade of bright red and left him spluttering. All I could do was laugh.
“Well, uh, great. That’s great.”
Once I’d composed myself, I sat back down—but not without a giddy grin on my face. Greg took the next few minutes to explain my new duties, answer my questions and tell me my start date. I think he was afraid I might hug him again, because he quickly ordered me back to counter.
Walking back to the counter, I practically floated I was so happy. While I’d been grateful to have a job, I’d never been excited about it until now. But to know that my hard work had paid off, that he had noticed me and I was being rewarded for my effort really made me glow with pride. Having never had a job before, I’d never known the sense of satisfaction that could come from bringing home a paycheck—getting a promotion made me feel almost on top of the world.
Maybe Dean would want to take me out to celebrate, I mused as I took my place behind the counter. It had been so long since we’d had any time to ourselves. Dana sent me a quizzical look, but I could only beam at her and call for the next customer to come place their order. The remaining five hours seemed to fly by and if anything, my elation only grew, despite dropping an ice cream cone on myself and having to deal with my aching, sore feet at the end of a long day. I called out a cheery goodbye before heading for the door, humming as I went.
* * * * *
Not once did my enthusiasm ebb on the ride home. I was practically bursting with my good news by the time I parked my car and walked into the house. All the lights in the house were on, I noticed with chagrin. Deciding I’d deal with it in a few minutes, I headed to the kitchen. While the kitchen light was on, no one was in it. I opened the fridge to peer in and see what I could make to eat as I called out for my family. “Dean? Morgan? I’m home.”
“Hey, Mom.”
I whirled around and jumped a little when I saw he was standing right in front of me. “Hey, honey.” I closed the refrigerator door. “Where’s your dad?”
“In the cave.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Dean used to have one on post, so he’d insisted that he have one in the apartment as well. While it was nothing compared to the room he used to call his own, he made do with the tiny extra bedroom in our apartment. Lately he was spending more and more time in his “cave”, though I wasn’t exactly clear on what he did in there.
“What’s for dinner?”
I scrunched up my forehead. I’d been so sure he would have eaten by now. It was almost seven.
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
I turned to see my husband standing in the doorway. “Hi, honey.”
“Hi yourself,” he replied grumpily. “What are we eating?”
“I, um…” I shrugged, gesturing at the fridge. “I’m sure I can figure something out.”
“That would be nice.”
I frowned at his annoyed tone. Honestly, did he have to complain about everything? “I’m sorry, Dean, I’d assumed you would have eaten. If I’d known, I would have brought something from work.”
He grumbled unintelligibly and I turned back to the refrigerator, trying to hide my annoyance. I couldn’t believe that he expected me to work all day and come home and cook, too! Still, I found some thawed chicken and veggies and went to work. I put water on the stove to boil and searched the cabinets for the rice. When I got everything cooking, I turned back around and was surprised to see that Morgan had pulled up a chair and had been watching me move around the kitchen.
“How was your day?”
“Fine,” he replied with a typical teenager glum, accompanied with the requisite shrug.
“What’d you do today?”
“School,” he replied, rolling his eyes at my question.
I turned away and pretended to busy myself at the stove, stirring the rice even though it didn’t need it yet so that I could hide my smile. I’d learned long ago not to be offended by his sighs of annoyance and moody silences. The fact he, a teenage boy, was watching me cook meant he wanted to talk. I just had to be patient and let him pick his time. It came sooner than I thought.
“So, Mom, I invited a girl to come study tomorrow.”
“A girl?” I asked, my back still to him. “What girl?”
“Do you remember me telling you about Natalie?”
“Um, I think so. The one with the nose ring?”
“Yeah, Natalie. Well, it’s not her, it’s her sister Chloe.”
I whirled on him, brandishing my spoon. “Christopher Morgan Clark!” I scolded, wagging it at him. “You do not start showing interest in a girl and then try to date her sister!”
Morgan’s eyes rounded at my severe tone. “Chill, mom. Relax, seriously. I was never interested in Natalie, she knows that. We’re just friends.”
I scowled at him, unconvinced. Still, I was secretly gratified to see how he tried to reassure me. As long as he walked away having learned the lesson I was trying to get across—that you didn’t lead a girl on and then switch to one you decided was more appealing—I would consider it a job well done on my part.
“Natalie and I, we like, talk about cars and basketball and things like that. But Chloe…”
I couldn’t hide my smile this time—his entire face lit up when he said her name and he sat up straighter. “You’ve got it bad, huh?”
Morgan shot a glance at his father, who was sitting on the couch in the living room with the television turned on. “I just think she’s nice,” he told me in a low voice.
I took his cue and dropped my voice to match his own. “Nice, huh? Do all boys invite girls over because they’re nice? You think Natalie is nice, right?” I forced myself not to laugh at his suspicious nod. “Well, in that case, why
don’t you have them both over?”
“Mom,” he groaned, slumping down in the chair once more.
“Okay, okay,” I said with a short laugh. “I’m sorry for teasing you. Tell me about Chloe.”
With another glance at his dad, Morgan leaned over the counter. “She and Natalie are twins.”
“Wait a minute,” I objected, laughing again. “Does this mean she has a nose ring too?”
“She doesn’t have a nose ring, Mom, no worries.”
“Tattoos?” I guessed.
“Mom—”
“Oh, I’ve got it! Purple hair.”
The withering glance he sent my way almost made me double over, but I hid my laughter this time. “You know what, I’ve got homework. I think—”
“Morgan, stop. I’m sorry, son. I don’t mean to poke fun, I’m just so happy.”
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You are?”
“Of course I am, honey.” I walked around the corner and put my hand on his shoulder, forcing myself to fight the instinct to push his hair away from his eyes. “I was worried about you making new friends off-post and now…” I gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Now I know I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
“I love it here, Mom,” he told me quietly.
I’d guessed as much. Morgan had never really fit in with the others kids on post. There had been one or two, but when their parents moved, it had left Morgan back at square one. He wasn’t one to mince words or pretend to like a person, which often put people off. He didn’t play sports, so he got left out there, too. I’d always wished he’d find a group of kids to spend time with and now it seemed I’d gotten my wish. I said none of that, however.
“What can I do?” I asked instead. “Do you want me to make something special?”
“No, don’t, Mom. I just wanted you to know.”
I nodded, already planning a run to the PX for snack food. “Thank you.” He opened his mouth to reply, but just then I heard my pot begin to boil over. I gave him one more quick squeeze before rushing back to the stove. “Dinner in five.”
Dean grumbled loudly and I turned back to the stove. Sighing, I blotted the mess up with a sponge. He was becoming a different person as of late and it was time I admitted to myself that it was a person I didn’t like very much. I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, trying to be patient. I knew how much an injury could affect the morale of a soldier and Dean’s case was even worse because it hadn’t been obtained in the line of duty. While I might never understand it, I knew he would be taking it better if it had. In that case, he’d be a hero; he’d have something to feel proud of.
I loved my husband and I was trying to give him the space I thought he needed, but nothing I did seemed to help. Lately, I found myself wondering what I’d do if it never got any better.
“It’s ready,” I called out. By the time I dished up our plates and walked into the dining room both my husband and son were sitting at the table. “What do you want to drink?”
“Sit down, Mom,” Morgan replied, standing to his feet. “I’ve got it.”
I beamed at him and did as I was bid. The minute I sat down my feet began to ache anew, a feeling that I was almost getting used to. Once Morgan got back with the drinks we bowed our heads and Dean said grace. At his “amen” I looked up, unsure how to begin. I waited, watching as they began to eat. Dean took a bite, then added more salt to his rice. I watched Morgan sip his Sprite and decided I could wait no longer.
“I had the best day at work!” I burst out.
“Mmm,” Dean replied as he chewed, not bothering to look up from his plate.
“That’s great, Mom. What happened?”
I turned to my son, grinning at him. “My boss offered me a promotion!”
“Awesome!” Morgan enthused.
I gave him a wide smile before turning to Dean, who was stabbing green beans with the end of his fork with tenacity. “Dean?”
“I heard you, Shelby. That’s great,” he offered in a weary tone that didn’t do much to hide his lack of enthusiasm.
“It is great,” I replied through clenched teeth and a fake smile. “I start on Monday.”
Dean dropped his fork with a loud clatter and finally met my eyes. “What did you say?”
I blinked at him in surprise. “I-I said I start Monday.”
“You took the job? Without even talking to me?”
My brow furrowed as I took in the question and his sour expression. “What did you expect me to do? Turn it down?”
“That depends. What type of promotion is it?”
“I’ll be the new night manager.” With each question he asked, I felt my joy deflating like a balloon.
“Night manager? What kind of hours does that entail?”
“I’ll be closing every night that I’m scheduled. Probably four to close.”
“Well, in that case, yes, I expect you to turn it down. It’s out of the question.” Dean leveled me with a firm, unwavering stare before going back to skewering his green beans.
“Excuse me?” I asked, my voice deadly soft. “Aren’t we going to at least talk about this?”
“What is there to discuss, Shelby?” he asked. “I said no.”
I cleared my throat. “I heard you. What I don’t understand is why.”
“Because we need you here, that’s why.”
Even though he didn’t use the words end of discussion, his voice said it all. Dean had always been an authoritative man and I loved that about him. Normally, I obeyed him and took orders like a good Army wife would do. This was not one of those times. “We need the money, Dean.”
When he looked back up his eyes could have shattered glass with the daggers they were shooting. “I realize that, Shelby. But if you’re working, who will cook dinner? Who will make sure the apartment stays clean?”
“I can cook dinner before I leave,” I replied, forcing myself to stay calm and knowing that what I really wanted to say would not go over well.
“I don’t want casseroles every night,” he grumbled.
“But—”
“Which is beside the point, because I’ve already said no.”
Feeling my son’s eyes on me, I pressed my lips against each other to keep from saying something I’d regret. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this angry with my husband. He’d taken what had been wonderful, joyous news and lit it on fire until it was nothing but ashes. I’d spent so many years supporting him and this was what I got? Why couldn’t he stuff his pride where the sun didn’t shine and be my cheerleader for a change?
“I’m having a girl over tomorrow,” Morgan blurted out in an obvious attempt to change the subject.
“A girl, huh?” His dad turned toward him. “I don’t know, son.”
“I already told him it was fine,” I said testily.
Dean arched an eyebrow at me. “Of course you did. It seems no one consults me for my opinion anymore, so why bother mentioning it?”
I felt heat surging in my face. I bit down on my lip, trying to stifle the angry words that were clamoring to come out.
“Her name’s Chole,” Morgan replied as though his father hadn’t spoken. “And just one more thing. While she’s here, I’m CM.”
“CM?” his dad echoed. “What is that?”
“My name,” he replied with a shrug that said uh, duh.
“No,” Dean replied in a slow, hard voice that made his disapproval apparent. “That is not your name. Your name is Christopher Morgan, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“That’s what I said, Dad: CM.”
Dean opened his mouth to reply, but I beat him to it. “I think it’s awesome, dude.”
Morgan winced. “Thanks, I think. May I be excused?”
“Yes, you may,” I replied, ignoring that he’d only eaten half of his chicken and none of the vegetables. The minute he escaped I turned to Dean, taking in his fiery eyes and stony expression and setting my mouth into a hard line.
�
�Bedroom. Now.”
He rarely ever used that tone of voice, but when he did I knew what to expect. Still, I didn’t protest. I stood and pushed my chair back before heading toward our bedroom, Dean following closely at my heels. I kept my pace slow and when we walked in Dean shut the door behind us as I went to sit on the bed.
He walked to stand in front of me, glaring angrily. “Shelby, what the hell has gotten into you?”
“Gotten into me?”
“Since when is it okay to make big decisions like this without consulting me? And while we’re on the subject, since when do you disrespect me in front of the boy? Since when do you think that it’s okay? ”
“He has a name,” I replied stiffly.
“Yes, yes, he does!” he boomed. “And it sure as hell isn’t CM! What were you doing back there, undermining me like that? We’re supposed to be a team!”
That was just too much. “A team?” I lashed out. “How can we be a team when only one of us is playing?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I’m the one working, I’m the one cooking and cleaning and going to our son’s parent-teacher conferences. I even changed my own oil last week! What have you been doing to contribute, exactly?”
“You are out of line, young lady!” he barked at me.
“Am I?” I challenged. “You’ve been putting on this wounded warrior act for long enough, if you ask me. I need you, Dean. Okay? I need you to be here for us.”
“I’m around!”
“Yeah, you’re here, but you’re always acting like you want to be somewhere else. You made the decision to leave the Army! So stop taking it out on us!” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. We never talked about his leaving the Army—it was the big elephant in the room that everyone danced around.
Dean surveyed me with cool eyes. Suddenly, the anger seemed to drain out of him until all that was left was a sad, defeated expression on his face. “You’re right and I’m sorry.”
I blinked at him, my mouth gaping open. “You are?”
“Yes, Shelby. I should be helping you out more, I know that. I’m not going to make excuses for myself, but it still doesn’t give you any right to talk to me the way you did, especially in front of our son. It was disrespectful and I won’t have it. He already thinks he can talk back to me without seeing you do it, too.”