She found her footing, ran a hand through her hair, drawing his attention to her own Pilot by her ear. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me they were sending you home? I thought you had another month!”
“They kept talking about extending the tour and I didn’t want to tell you one thing and then find out another.”
“How long have you known?”
“Only a couple days,” he lied. She wouldn’t know; he’d had a couple of deployments now where they hadn’t been able to communicate at all, and he hadn’t always had advance notice himself. She seemed to buy it, in any case.
She pulled him in close again. “I’m not complaining. Just surprised. Like, I would have taken time off to spend time with you or something. I would have cleaned. Your ma was so upset not to be here when you got home, too, but it’s a school day, and Sophie is off somewhere . . .”
“Since when do you need to clean for me?”
“I don’t. I haven’t touched anything in your room, beyond vacuuming. I just . . . I have to go to work and I want to be here and hear how you are and I’ve been standing here hoping you’d arrive before I had to leave but now you’re here and . . . it’s so good to see you.”
He smiled. “Good to see you, too. Go to work. I’ll be fine.”
“I hate leaving, but I guess you can use some time for yourself after all those flights and whatever else?”
“Definitely.”
“Can I bring dinner back? What would you like? Thai? Szechuan?”
He gave a groan of delight. “Oh God, yes. You don’t even know.”
“Sweet. The spare key is on the peg if you don’t have yours handy. Help yourself to anything in the house if you’re hungry. Why am I saying that like you’re a guest? It’s your house. Eat. Drink. I love you. I’ll be back soon.”
She pushed him through the door and headed off. So she’d been waiting for him to make sure he could get in. He felt guilty he hadn’t come the night before, but he’d needed the night to transition.
He walked through the house his house home. It smelled right, familiar, he couldn’t even say what the right scent was but this was it. The cool old clock in the living room his grandmother’s grandmother clock did its tick-tick-ticking thing as he walked through the rooms and a loud bird did its loud-bird thing somewhere out some window a window must be open somewhere for it to be so loud but he didn’t see an open window.
His room looked exactly as it should. She’d said she hadn’t touched anything and it didn’t look like she had. Another noise downstairs the icemaker in the fridge doing its icemaker thing. He dropped his bags and went to the kitchen and opened the fridge and found Val’s beer and chugged one he didn’t even like IPA downed two there were eight he left six. Crushed the cans and hid them under the other recycling since it was still morning and he was an adult he was a soldier he could drink if he wanted but his parents would judge even if they said they wouldn’t.
He sat in the chair he and Sophie used to fight over, the armchair that reclined violently when you swung the lever. He swung the lever and his feet elevated. It was too comfortable too soft, so soft he could sleep, really, and it didn’t feel right to sleep. He stood, paced the room, finally situated himself on the couch arm. When they were kids they got yelled at for sitting on the arms for climbing on the back for swinging the armchair lever too hard, but he wasn’t going to do any harm sitting on the arm. It was a good place. Not comfortable not soft. From there he got the full view from the bay window, five six seven eight houses’ worth of across the street, neighbors coming and going, the mail carrier in shorts and a broad-brimmed hat and earbuds making her slow way along the street singing to herself.
Even here even here home his family’s house home even here David kept watch. He had some memory that his head had been quieter here had some hope that when he returned he would be quiet again but it was false a false memory a memory of before the Pilot sped him up turned him on filled his head with constant input vigilance noise protective noise. He watched he watched he listened he watched he watched.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
SOPHIE
The figure sitting stiffly on the couch arm in the front room was familiar even in shadow. He wore his Army Combat Uniform, which didn’t do much to camouflage him against the leather couch. He’d abandoned his hat on the end table, and his head was shorn of curls. He had no expression on his face.
David leapt from the couch the instant she entered, breaking into a wide grin. He crossed the space between them in three long strides to pull her into a bear hug, lifting her from her feet.
“Softserve!”
“Davey Not-So-Wavy!” She
