The Top Gun's Return

Reluctantly he leaned down to brush her cheek with his lips, the thought of how lucky he was to be able to do that tiny thing nearly stopping his breath-and then he saw something that robbed him of it completely. A smudge…a tiny purple mark the size of a thumb print…on her cheekbone. It could have been makeup, or the imprint of her hand made while she was sleeping. But he knew it wasn't. It was a bruise, the one he'd made when he'd struck her in his sleep.

He closed his eyes as the passion-heat in his belly turned once more to cold disgust…and a hardening resolve never to let such a thing happen again. He'd had too much to drink that night but it had been the nightmare that had made him hit her. Last night, drunk, he'd slept without dreams. If getting tanked is what it takes, he thought grimly, so be it. The morning-after beer taste in his mouth didn't seem quite so vile as he eased his body out of bed and limped stiffly off to the bathroom.

When he came out, Jessie was sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair. She smiled at him and said, 'G'mornin',' but the smile involved only her mouth. The forced brightness of it, and the veiled hurt in her eyes, were all too familiar to him. Boy, did he remember that look. She'd been wearing it, he recalled, when he'd told her he was going to the Persian Gulf, that last time. When he'd tried to explain to her how important it was to him, that this was his last chance at flying combat missions, which was what he'd trained his whole life for, and that it was something he felt he really needed to do.

She'd accepted it, of course-she'd always accepted-but he knew she hadn't understood. Any more than she would understand now if he tried to explain about the darkness and the shadows in his mind, and the filth and the pain and the fear that wouldn't let go of him, that still kept a part of him-maybe the best part, the most important part-locked up in that Iraqi prison. She wouldn't understand that he was never going to be free, that he'd never be home again until he'd found a way to heal the pain, cleanse the filth and banish the fear. And most of all, she'd never understand that she couldn't help him do those things. Nobody could. That was something he had to take care of himself.

'Your dress uniform came,' she said. 'It's in the closet.'

'Oh, yeah?' He didn't look at her as he zipped himself into his jumpsuit. 'Great. What time's our meeting with the president?'

'Four o'clock.' She got up, walked over to the dresser and laid her hairbrush down. 'I thought I might go shopping this morning while you're at the hospital.' She said it without turning, carefully not looking at him. 'To buy a dress. I don't think I should be wearing slacks to meet the president, d'you? I was thinking maybe Sammi June and I could go.'

'Good idea. Don't worry about the money, either. I've got a whole lot of back pay coming-' The phone rang, shrill and jarring in the molasses-thick atmosphere that had come between them. 'Oops-that'll be Al-gotta go.' Shamefully relieved, he ducked his head and swiftly kissed her cheek. 'Buy something pretty,' he stupidly said, and as he left her he was mentally shaking his head.

Meaningless noise. It was the kind of thing he'd say to a stranger. Which is what she is, he realized, suddenly feeling bleak as he strode through the early-morning stillness of the hotel corridors, his footsteps soundless on thick spongy carpeting. A stranger in his wife's body.

* * *

'I think I like this one,' Jessie said, turning in front of the three-way mirror. 'What do you think?'

Sammi June spared the lavender sheath with its matching boxy embroidery-trimmed jacket a disdainful glance. 'It's okay.'

Jessie's shoulders sagged. 'Okay? I'm going to meet the president, I don't need 'okay.'' She paused to consider, head to one side and lower lip outthrust. 'So, what's wrong with it? It fits, it's your daddy's favorite color.' And the price is right, she thought, fighting once more to quell the resentment that had flared when Tris had made that little comment about his back pay. And isn't that just like a man? As if I needed his salary in order to buy myself a dress. As if I hadn't been keeping myself in clothes and everything else for the past eight years, and very well, thank you! 'It looks good on me.'

'Yeah,' said Sammi June, 'if you're fifty. Come on, Mom, you're not even forty, and you've got a great bod. You should show it off. Look-how 'bout this?' She held up something black that slithered and floated when she shook its hanger. 'Basic black-can't beat that, right? Plus, it's bias cut-it'll cling like a glove, and this sweetheart neckline? Very retro-that's so in right now.'

'It looks like something your aunt Joy would wear,' Jessie said with a slight shudder. Joy Lynn was known to shop for her vintage clothing in thrift stores and on Ebay-though on her, Jessie had to admit, somehow those old- fashioned styles always looked fantastic.

'Okay, then, how about this one? It's a great color for you, it's got a jacket…long sleeves…your comfort zone, right?'

'Hmm…well…' Jessie fingered the rich deep-plum fabric, then took the hanger and held the jacket in front of herself as she peered at the mirror. 'Jacket's nice. Where's the skirt?'

'Right there, Mom. Underneath…see?'

'Good Lord. Sammi June-'

'It's only a couple inches above the knee, Mom. That's not too short. Anyway, you've got great legs. Go on-try it on at least. I dare you.'

With a sigh and an eye roll, Jessie headed for the dressing room, followed by a smugly triumphant cackle. As she unzipped and stepped out of the lavender sheath, she was thinking about past clothes-shopping trips with Sammi June and how their roles seemed to have flip-flopped suddenly.

A few minutes later mother and daughter met again in front of the three-way mirror.

'Well,' said Sammi June after a thoughtful silence, 'what do you think? Was I right or was I right?'

'That skirt is definitely too short,' Jessie said, staring pointedly at her daughter's sleek bare thighs.

'I wasn't asking about me. Face it, Mom. That is a stunner. That's not an 'okay.' That is an 'Okay!''

No question about it, the color was great on her, and the jacket fit like a glove, in a long elegant curving line from shoulder to midthigh. 'I don't know. It's kind of low here in front…maybe I should wear a blouse.'

'No, no, a great necklace, that's all. And high-heeled sandals with ankle straps. Now me…okay, what this needs is some great boots. Up to about…here. What do you think, Mom?'

What do I think? I think you've grown up way too fast for me. As she stared at the two images in the mirrors, Jessie saw only one…taller than she was and willow-reed slender, shoulder-length blond hair cut in that spiky, waifish way so popular with the younger set nowadays. And now, wearing not the familiar jeans and T-shirts but a sophisticated chocolate-brown pin-striped suit with a jacket longer than the skirt, that could have come straight out of a fashion magazine. She wasn't looking at the images of a mother and her daughter, she realized, but of two women…two women who were physically very much alike, maybe, but in fact very, very different.

'Sammi June,' Jessie said, hating herself for bringing it up and knowing she had to and wouldn't be able to help herself. There was an aching tightness in her throat. 'I heard what you told the SECNAV. About wanting to be a pilot.'

'Yeah? So?' Sammi June pivoted, studying the effect of her outfit from the rear.

'So…when did you come up with that idea?'

'It's something I've been thinking about for a while, that's all.' Sammi June still wasn't looking at her. 'Look, it's no big deal.'

'If it's 'no big deal,'' Jessie said carefully, 'then why didn't you say anything to me about it?'

Sammi June threw her a look, then closed her eyes and gave a put-upon sigh. 'Because I knew you'd react this way. Look, Mom, it's not like I'm planning on flying Tomcats and going to war and getting shot down or something. I just want to be a pilot-commercial aviation. What's wrong with that?'

'What's wrong-'

'Just because Dad-'

'This has nothing to do with your dad!'