War Torn

Chapter 2-2

Saturday night, Alden wants me to go

to the Officer’s Club for the after-dinner show and try as I might,

I can’t talk my way out of it.

He won’t let me. “What else do you

have to do?” he asks, hands on his hips as he stares me

down.

I shrug.

“Sitting here all night

moping about your boy isn’t going to bring him home any sooner, you

know that. At least this way you won’t be by yourself. That’s not

healthy.”

Listen to him tell me what healthy is,

Alden Romero from Little Italy, who lives off garlic and pasta

alone. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I start.

But this is Alden and he’s not taking

no for an answer. Before I know it we’re at the bar, Alden flirting

with anyone in a skirt and me nursing a rum and Coke. I spend the

night sitting by myself at a dark corner table, staring at the neon

clock above the bar and wondering how Tomas is. He must’ve reached

the Bridge by now, I’m sure of it. I haven’t heard any reports all

day but I know they’ve set up camp already. I close my eyes and can

see him resting on a thin cot, dressed in his fatigues with his cap

pulled over his face and one hand hanging low enough to brush along

the dirt. I almost choke down the rest of my drink trying to drown

out that image.

It’s after midnight when Alden finally

says we should head home. He thinks I’ve had enough to drink, but

I’m sure I could use another glass or two, because my bed is cold

and I don’t want to crawl between those sheets alone.

At my door Alden claps me on the back

and tells me to take it easy. “Want to catch a movie

tomorrow?”

I shake my head, numb. The night air

is brisk and I huddle into my collar. My cheeks are flushed and

hot, and I just want to go to sleep and wake up when Tomas gets

back. “I don’t think so.”

This time I mean it—I’m not going

anywhere tomorrow. Maybe Tomas will get some free time and I don’t

want to miss his call. “Thanks anyway.”

“No problem.” He frowns as

I fumble to get my key into the lock. “Are you going to be

okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” With a

tight smile I close the door behind me, shutting it between us and

locking him outside. For a moment I struggle with my jacket, but in

the end I just shuck it off over my head and drop it to the floor.

Trudging into the living room, I kick off my shoes and stumble a

bit before I fall to the couch.

The TV stares at me like an unseeing

eye. I resist the urge to turn it on, though I want to know what’s

happening at the Bridge. I’m just too damn tired and my arms are so

heavy, my eyes keep slipping shut, and I can’t reach the remote

from where I lay. My head throbs like a rotten tooth. With my eyes

shut, all I see is my lover’s face. Tomas fills my last coherent

thought before I pass out.