Authors: Mila Gray
for the exit. I make for the back door, but Kit intercepts
me. He prises the scalding coffee from my hands and sets
it on the side before pulling me into his arms. I collapse
there and he just holds me without saying a word. I don’t
know how long we stand like that, in the centre of the
kitchen, but my coffee grows cold on the side and it’s
only when the doorbell sounds that he finally lets me go.
Riley walks into the kitchen a few seconds later, wear-
ing his uniform. He hugs Kit first, slapping him on the
back, and I know it’s an apology of sorts for what
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happened with my dad. They have their guy moment
and then Riley walks over to me.
‘You OK?’ he asks, noticing my tear-stained face.
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘What are you going to do?’ he asks.
‘Stay here,’ I answer.
Riley nods as though he suspected as much.
‘How was he?’ I ask nervously.
He shrugs, and I notice for the first time the dark
circles beneath his eyes. ‘I don’t know. I stayed at Jo’s last
night.’
‘And Mom?’ I feel a twinge of guilt at the mention of
her name, but it’s quickly stamped out by a burst of
anger. She could have stood up for both of us and she
didn’t. She’s never stood up for us.
‘I spoke to her just now,’ Riley says. ‘Said goodbye.’ A
pause. ‘She sounded spaced.’
I look at him, frowning. I wonder if that means she’s
hit the not-so-secret stash of Valium she keeps in the
bathroom cabinet. I can tell that’s what Riley’s implying.
‘I’m sorry,’ Riley suddenly says.
I look up at him, confused, and see the anguish in his
eyes and the guilt splashed across his face. ‘For leaving
you to deal with it alone,’ he adds.
It’s the first time Riley’s ever talked to me about his
decision to enlist, and the buried grudge I was holding
vanishes instantly when I see just how torn up he is by it
and how guilty he feels.
‘It’s OK,’ I say, and I mean it. I don’t want him to feel
guilty.
He gives me a sad, unconvinced smile.
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Mila Gray
‘I mean it,’ I say. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’
‘I’m always going to worry about you. You’re my little
sis,’ he mumbles.
‘We need to go.’
I look up. Kit’s standing in the doorway, his bag at his
feet. Riley checks the time and nods. ‘OK,’ he says before
wrapping his arms around me and hugging me hard. I
hug him back harder.
‘Take care,’ he whispers in my ear. ‘And look out for Jo
for me. And the baby.’
I nod. ‘Take care of Kit for me,’ I whisper back, my
throat closing up.
I feel him nod against me. He kisses me on the top of
my head before he pulls away and glances over at Kit. ‘I’ll
leave you two to it,’ he says and walks out the kitchen,
throwing me a smile backwards as he goes.
Kit steps forward and, taking my face in his hands, tips
my head back so I’m forced to look up at him through a
veil of tears.
‘I love you,’ he says, his voice so fierce it makes some-
thing catch in my chest. ‘I’m going to love you forever.’
I hold onto his hands. Why does he have to leave? It
feels like we’ve only just begun. ‘I love you too.’
He bumps his forehead to mine.
‘Please, take care of Riley,’ I say. ‘Be his good luck
charm, like you were mine.’
He strokes my hair behind one ear. ‘I promise,’ he says.
My lips are against his and I’m crying. ‘Come back to
me,’ I whisper.
‘Always,’ he answers, kissing me for the last time.
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From:
Kit Ryan
To:
Jessa Kingsley [email protected]
Date:
July 7
Subject:
361 days
Hey baby,
Thanks for all your emails. We’ve finally arrived in country. It
took me a while to get an internet connection in the room
but now we’re all set up. I miss you like crazy too. As soon
as I figure out how to get a calling card I’ll call. Internet is
crap so I can’t Skype.
You wouldn’t believe this place. Kabul is pretty much still
a warzone – the US embassy compound is huge – over a
thousand people working here and we’re on permanent high
alert. Our detachment commander isn’t too much of an ass-
hole, though he’s put Riley and me on night shift for the next
three months.
Thanks for the photos by the way J . . . is that an early
Christmas present? When did you steal my phone and take
those? Next time please feel free to pose while I take them.
I’m sharing a room with Riley so I had to lock myself in the
bathroom to enjoy them. And yes, I did put a lock on my
phone.
Did you speak to your mom yet? How’s it going with my
dad? How are rehearsals?
Love you,
K.
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Mila Gray
From:
Jessa Kingsley
To:
Kit Ryan [email protected]
Date:
July 25
Subject:
343 days
Your dad insisted on making dinner last night. I’m not sure
the last time he cooked anything more than a boiled egg but
it was super sweet of him. I’m glad you inherited your cook-
ing skills from your mom, though. He misses you – make
sure you email him. I tried to get him to talk about your
mom and my dad by the way, but he changed the subject.
It’s so weird. I’m going to get it out of him eventually.
So . . . you asked if I’d figured out what I was doing and I
have. I’ve decided I’m going to take a year out and try to
save some money. I got a job waitressing part time at the
diner where Jo works. Photo attached of me in my uniform.
Don’t laugh. I felt bad not contributing to the bills here and I
need to buy gas for your truck too. It eats it. Don’t even try
to suggest sending me money again, Kit. It’s so sweet of
you but I’m fine. I have my first waitressing shift this after-
noon. Wish me luck.
Rehearsals are going well. I’ve learned all my lines (all
twelve of them)! We get our costumes soon. You are going
to love it. Mine’s basically a French maid costume.
Gotta run. I’m late.
Love you
Jessa xxx
P.S. Tell Riley to email me.
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From:
Kit Ryan
To:
Jessa Kingsley [email protected]
Date:
August 27
Subject:
310 days
Thanks for the package, baby. I ate all the Reese’s Pieces
already – saving the Skittles. Was I meant to give any to
Riley? Because if I was it’s too late for that.
He was so psyched by the scan photo Jo sent him. He’s
stuck it to the wall by his bed and keeps showing it to
everyone.
I think you should give your mom a chance. Just hear her
out. I wish I could be there with you. You’ve no idea how
much I miss you, how often I dream about you. My phone
battery keeps running low I spend so much time looking at
those photos of you.
Good luck with the dress rehearsal tomorrow. I know
you’ll do great. You should wear your costume to the diner –
I think it would triple your tips. Do you get to keep it? ;)
Kx
From:
Jessa Kingsley
To:
Kit Ryan [email protected]
Date:
August 28
Subject:
309 days
Thank you for the flowers! They’re so beautiful. Even from
the other side of the world you manage to keep your most
romantic boyfriend title. Dress rehearsal starts in two hours.
Sooooo nervous. Did I tell you your dad bought a front row
seat for opening night? He even asked if he could record it
so he could send you a copy. Did you ask him to do that?
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So, the big news is that I spoke to my mom. She came by
the other day. I think your dad had something to do with it
because when I got home from work they were both there,
waiting for me in the living room. It was like an intervention.
The long and short of it is that I’m moving back home. I’m
not sure how you’re going to feel about this. I’m not sure
how I feel about it. Part of me really doesn’t want to go – I’m
so happy here – but another part feels guilty and like it’s the
right thing to do.
My dad has apparently admitted he might have a prob-
lem and my mom says he’s getting help and doing much
better. I figured it’s only going to be for ten months until you
get HOME so I should just bite the bullet. I’m going to pay
my way, though.
I increased my shifts at the diner and Didi’s dad offered
me some part-time work while his assistant is on maternity
leave so I’m managing to save quite a lot, and I’m going to
need every cent . . .
. . . Because I looked into the courses at USC like you
suggested and I’m going to apply for their BFA in acting
for next year. Didi’s having so much fun there, and I keep
imagining you and me living there together in some cool
apartment in Santa Monica. Some place right on the beach
– can you picture it? You opening up your cafe and me
taking classes. It’s just ten months, Kit. Just over three
hundred days. I can’t wait to see you again.
Love you and miss you so much,
Jessa x
P.S. Yes I get to keep the costume. I’m already fantasizing
about the night I wear it and all the things I’m going to do to
you.
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Kit
We’ve been pulling the night shift for eight weeks and
I’m getting used to being nocturnal. It works well, as
Jessa’s twelve hours behind so as I stand on guard duty I
get to imagine her waking up, going about her day, and
when my shift ends I know there’ll be emails from her
waiting for me, and if I’m lucky, some photos too.
I pause halfway to post one, remembering that this
morning she won’t be waking up in our bed but back in
her old one. I wonder how that’s going, how her dad is,
whether her mom was right about him getting treatment.
It’s frustrating being stuck here so far away from Jessa,
and I have a niggling anxiety that worries like an itch
beneath a plaster cast, something I can’t seem to scratch,
that her living back home will change things between us
– that her dad’s anger at me might rub off on her, or that
Jessa will lose some of the confidence she’s gained and
start kowtowing to his demands again. But she seems
pretty set on going to USC next year from what she says,
and I draw some comfort from the fantasy she painted of
us living there.
I roll my hands over my phone in my pocket. The keys
are getting worn from all the scrolling I’m doing over the
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photographs and texts she’s sending.
Fuck, I miss her
, I
think as I crunch across the gravel towards the guard
post, more than I even thought possible. It’s a crescent
moon tonight, thin as a rind of cheese, and the stars are
blazing, reminding me of our last night in the desert. As
always, I fix on the North Star – our star, as I’ve started
thinking of it – and think about Jessa.
‘I’ll take sentry,’ Riley says to me, interrupting my
thoughts.
‘OK,’ I say, nodding at the two guys we’re replacing. I
shrug my gun further up my shoulder and head inside
the guard post.
‘This is alpha one to bravo two, in position,’ I say into
my radio and listen as all the other posts around the
compound radio in.
On automatic, I scan the console, checking all the alarm
systems, before tracking my way through the cameras,
making sure the feeds to all fifty are working.
Through the blast-proof glass I can see Riley standing
sentry at the gate, silhouetted against the floodlights. The
embassy is ringed with twenty-foot-high walls and razor
wire. It’s like a prison. Post one is the main guard post at
the entrance to the embassy compound.
At midnight I swap posts with Riley. He grins and
slaps me on the back. ‘Yo, dude, no staring up at the stars
and jonesing after my sister.’
‘Shut the fuck up,’ I laugh, unshouldering my weapon
as I walk out the door.
About five metres out I stop in front of the barrier. I
don’t mind standing on the gate. It’s quiet out here at
night, only a few cars passing by occasionally. The night