“Yeah there is Ginger. My brother just came back from Iraq.” Stepbrother actually, but why get into the details right now. “I was wondering if I could get tomorrow off so that I could visit with him before he leaves.” I have no idea when he’s leaving and they owe me the day off, so it’s best to be as polite as possible. I’ve found that a soft voice and a polite demeanor will get you a long way in this world.
“Sure thing Martha. You haven’t took a day off since you started working here. You know what? Take the whole week off. You deserve it and you definitely have the vacation days to cover it. I’ll get someone to cover your shift.”
“I couldn’t Ginger. What if something went wrong?”
“If things get too bad, I’ll call you. You’re only a few minutes away. If things get too out of hand I’ll give you a ring and you can get down here in a jiffy. How’s that sound?”
“Alright. It would be nice to have a week to visit and relax.”
“Good. Have fun. You’ve earned it.”
“Thanks Ginger.”
“You’re welcome. Goodbye.”
She hangs up the phone without waiting for a reply like she always does. Once I hang the phone up, I stand for a minute with a dumbfounded look on my face. A whole week off. I haven’t had that much time off since I was in high school. Not even in college. I worked my butt off even when I had a few days off so I could get ahead and graduate early.
As soon as I step into the kitchen Jonathan hands me a glass of clear liquid that I know all too well to be vodka.
“Drink up.” He clinks glasses with me and downs his own in a single gulp.
I don’t want to look like the odd man out so I do the same. It burns going down, but a quick sip of my wine fixes that. We sit down on a couple of stools near the island and he pours us another drink.
“So. I have to ask. When did you get the mohawk?”
He sits his glass down on the counter and scratches at his beard for a moment before he answers. “I guess I started growing it right after I got out of basic training. To tell you the truth I don’t even remember why I cut my hair like this, but I liked it so I kept it.”
“And the beard? Last time we were together, you could barely grow a mustache let alone a full beard.”
“Surprisingly enough a beard isn’t hot in the heat like everyone thinks they are. A beard actually keeps your face cooler. Don’t ask me how.”
For a while we talk of light things a skate around the big issues like Dad dying while Jonathan was still on tour in Iraq, but eventually we get around to the hard questions. As he takes another drink, I tug on the sleeve of his coat.
“You gonna take that coat off or do you plan on leaving in a hurry?”
He grins sheepishly and shrugs out of his coat. My eyes almost pop out of their sockets when I see how large and defined his arms are. I was right. He is huge. Underneath his coat he has on a sleeveless shirt and when he bends his arms his biceps bulge with muscle. I tell him to toss his coat on the couch and he drops the big one.
“How was Dad’s funeral?”
“It was beautiful Jon. You would have liked it. The urn they put him in was shaped like a fish believe it or not.”
“Dad always did love to fish.”
“That he did.” Even thought my father wasn’t Jonathan’s he still called him Dad because he was the only father he ever knew. “Remember that time he took us fishing out at Red’s Lake and you turned the boat over?”
“No. I remember the time he took us to Red’s and you turned the boat over. You were whining about your hair and kept standing up in the front of the boat. Then you dropped your pole in the water and when you bent over to pick it up we tipped over.”
“I don’t think that was how it went.” That was exactly how it went, but I hate admitting it. “Besides, you didn’t even try to help me when I was drowning afterwards.”
“I was the one who pulled you to bank.”
“Sure.” I roll my eyes and mock punch him on the arm. I’m not gonna lie. I did it for two reasons. One because that is something we used to do with each other and two, I really wanted to see how hard those arms were. They’re like rocks. I know I shouldn’t have done that, but damn he looks so good sitting there.
“What was it like over there?” I was trying to change the subject and get my mind off of his biceps, but now that the words have left my mouth I would do anything to take them back. What a stupid question to ask a veteran. What was it like over there? I might as well ask him if he killed anyone while I’m at it.
“It wasn’t too bad at first. I spent a lot of the time walking the side streets or riding around and making sure that the civilians were okay. I did that for weeks. I thought it was some kind of game over there and that the media had just hyped it up a lot. Then on the third week I was there I was with my squad at a road block. We were fixing to drive through when a RPG blew up the truck in front of us. It was just some guy and his family in the truck. I think they meant to hit us, but I’ll never really know. We leapt out and right away training took over. I ran with Tom, my buddy, to a low wall. I had seen the position the guy shot the RPG from so I called it out to my commander and he told me and my buddy to go and take the guy out. We did what we were trained to do and took the guy out, but on the way out Tom took a wrong turn and triggered an I.E.D. He was dead before I could get to him.” As he goes quiet, I’m trying to think of something to say, but his story has rocked me to the core. I knew it was bad over there. I’ve seen the news and heard the stories, but hearing it first hand is a whole new experience. I open my mouth to try and comfort him and he continues. “It was rough going after that. For a while I didn’t care if I lived or died. I took the hard missions. The suicide missions. In the hopes that I wouldn’t come back. I always did. A lot of the times without my men, but I always came back. So you want to know what it was like over there. It was hell and I miss it every second I am away.”
“I’m sorry Jon. I shouldn’t have asked. I just can’t ever keep my stupid mouth shut. You know that.” My apology sounds as flat to my ears as I’m sure it does to his.
“Don’t be sorry. It honestly feels good to talk about it.”
“Do you really miss it?” Once more I’m going to ask a stupid question. It’s who I am.
“Yeah. I do.”
His short response lets me know more than if he would have talked for an hour. If he doesn’t have much to say about something it usually means it’s true. He’s been like that since we were young. I’m going to close that subject for now and talk about something else.
“Do you have a special woman in your life?”
“Not right now.” He takes another drink of his beer. “Hell, I haven’t had a woman in my life other than as part of my platoon since I joined the Marines.”
“Not one?”
“No. I just haven’t found the right woman yet. I don’t plan on wasting my time with some skank that just wants sex. What about you? Do you have a man in your life?”
“Nope. All work and no play is how I roll.”
“Damn. What a horrible life.” He laughs and nudges me in the ribs with an elbow.
“Yeah, maybe, but I’ve got the week off. What do you say we go down to the bar and close the sucker down?”
“I’m game. Put on some shoes and we’ll show this town how to kick up its heels.”
I go to the bedroom and slip on a comfortable pair of shoes that don’t look to bad. Not that I plan on turning any heads tonight anyway. He is already outside waiting with a helmet in his hands. I shake my head and cross my arms under my breasts. I know exactly what he wants and I’m not going to do it.
“I’m not getting on that death machine. No way. No how.”
“Come on. I’m a good driver.”
“Well, that’s new ‘cause you used to suck.”
“Quit being a sissy and get on the bike. I’ll leave without you. Now come on.”
“Alright.” I climb onto the bike behind him and strap the helmet on. The buckle is a little loose, but the bar is only a few minutes away. Surely I will be okay until then. I know what you’re thinking. Why in the world did she get on the bike? I’m not too ashamed to tell you that I wanted to put my arms around Jonathan and see how he felt. I’m always had a thing for him since we were little. I didn’t do anything about it then because people would have thought we were weirdos and shunned us because I was his stepsister. Now we’re older and both of our parents are dead. We’re not related really, so I see no problem in it. He starts the bike and the steady thrum excites me. As he pulls out of the driveway, I ease my crotch a little firmer onto the seat so I can truly enjoy the bike and its power.
***
A couple of hours after leaving the house and we’re sitting across from each other in a booth listening to some good old-school rock pumping from the jukebox. Jonathan mentions something about when we were younger and we go down the rabbit hole to a simpler time when bills and taxes didn’t exist for us.
“Do you recall the time I had friends over for my thirteenth birthday?” I ask him. I know that he does.
He ponders for a moment with his hand on his chin like he is really thinking hard. He shakes his head with a small grin. “No, I don’t seem to remember that one.”
“Sure you don’t. Me and my friends were upstairs in my room doing what young girls do. Talking about boys, boys, our bodies, and more boys. Terry Simone took off her shirt to show us her new bra so we all started taking off our shirts to compare bras and sizes and you fell out of my closet. I don’t think I had ever seen you move as fast as you did that night.”
“I got excited. That was a lot for a young boy of eleven to see all at once.”
“I thought you might remember.” We laugh and I poke him in the ribs from across the table. “I knew you were in there. That’s why I steered the conversation to bras to see if one of the girls would take their shirts off. I knew that you had a crush on Terry. Man I wish I could have seen your face when her shirt went over her head.”
“It wasn’t her who I was excited about.” He says around his beer as he takes another drink.
“It wasn’t? Who was it then?”
“I probably shouldn’t say.”
“Come on. It’s me. Martha. You can tell me anything.”
“That’s the problem. It was you.”
“Wait. What? You were excited to see me in my bra.”
“Of course I was. Your breasts were already starting to fill out and you were twice as hot as those girls ever were. You still are. To be honest I wouldn’t mind seeing what they look like now that they have full developed.” His eyes widen as he realizes what he just said. “Oh shit! I’m sorry Martha. I should have kept my mouth . . . ”
I reach across the table and put a finger to his lips. “You didn’t say anything wrong. In fact, I’m glad that you said it because I’ve had similar feelings about you for years. If you really want to see what they look like. Here they are.”
I didn’t put on a bra early so I just lift up my shirt from the bottom and show him my breasts. His eyes widen again as he takes them in. One of his hands spasms once like he wants to reach out and touch them. God, I wish he would.
The yell comes from across the bar, but I can tell by the sound of it that whoever made it is coming closer. Sure enough some guy walks right up to our booth and lays both hands on the table. I look at him and right away I can tell that he thinks he runs this place. He’s the guy that everyone respects because of his size. He is a big man, but not as big as Jonathan. I assume that most nights this guy gets any woman in the bar he wants. Well, I hate to burst his bubble, but he isn’t getting this girl tonight or any other night.
“Name’s Harry and I gotta say that you’re looking damn good honey.” His voice is heavy with booze and his words are slurred.
“Thanks.” I try my best not to encourage him.
“Me and a couple of the boys thought that we might take you for a little ride and show you a real good time. What do you say?”
“I say no. I’m here with someone.” I figure there is no sense in telling him that I wouldn’t leave with him if he was the last man on earth.
“Maybe I insist.”
Harry’s hand shoots out to grab me by the shoulder, but Jonathan is quicker. His hand is a blur as it darts out and grabs Harry by the front of his shirt. Jonathan pulls him down close and looks him in the eyes for a split second before he speaks. His voice is almost a growl when he speaks.
“Touch her and I’ll leave you laying here coughing blood.”
Jonathan shoves the man back and he stumbles across the bar. As he regains his balance, he gives us a look that tells me right away that it isn’t over.
“You son of a bitch. I’ll teach you and your bitch a lesson.”
Harry stumbles over to a table with three other larger gentlemen and sits down with a thud. The men slam their fists on the table and throw stares at me and Jonathan during his story.
I reach over and lay a hand on Jonathan’s arm. He turns to me and flashes a knowing grin that says everything is fine. “Let’s just get out of here as quickly as we can.”
“Can’t.” He only speaks the one word, but it gives me a chill.
“What? Why not?”
“See the door?” He nods his head toward the exit.
“Yeah, what about it . . . ” I see what he means. Two men stand on either side of the door and both of them have some kind of club in their hands. I turn to look out the back, but there is a man standing there as well with a club in his hand. “What are we going to do?”