Eight
While Dave goes to the pet store, I carry Trooper and my bag upstairs to my bedroom. It feels smaller than I remember, yet every photograph and faded scratch on the hardwood floor remind me that this room once held my entire world.
I set my bag beside the bed, grab a folded comforter and head straight for the shower.
I sit Trooper on the floor on the blanket so he can see me.
He watches for a few minutes then, confident I’m not going anywhere, he lays his head down and closes his eyes.
It seems the soft whirr of the exhaust fan doubles as a sleep machine.
The hot water pounds against my shoulders, washing away the sweat from the flight, but it does absolutely nothing for the man occupying far too much space inside my head.
Dave.
His smile. Those piercing, silver blue eyes. His wickedly perfect forearms.
I drag both hands down my face and speak aloud. “Get a grip.”
Steam curls around me as I lean my forehead against the cool tile.
The quiet boy I admired and dreamed about transformed into six feet of broad shoulders and strong hands while I was away, and he possesses enough quiet confidence to short-circuit the military discipline I’ve developed since living away.
I’ve got him.
Why did they sound like a promise?
I squeeze shampoo into my palm, working it through my hair with intensity, determined to think about literally anything other than possibilities.
Focus on Dad.
Not Dave.
I especially don’t think about the way his T-shirt stretched across his shoulders. Or how well his jeans hugged his form. Or how he made everything feel right, just when it was about to go wrong.
Jezus, Charity.
You’re Hopeless.
The water gradually cools and the temperature chases the heat from my skin and my imagination.
I step out and wrap myself in one of Mom’s plushy, oversized towels, and then rub some lotion into my arms and legs.
I scoop up Trooper and go to my room across the hall.
Before brushing through my hair and pulling it into a messy bun, I pull on a pair of denim shorts and a little white tank top.
A quick swipe of mascara and a little bit of gloss have me noting my reflection in the mirror.
Not bad, Army. Not bad.
Downstairs, the house is quiet. Dad is asleep in his favorite blue recliner, his chin resting against his chest while the changing light outside slips to our side of the street and through the window blinds.
For a moment I stand there holding Trooper, taking in his condition.
He’s thinner than the last time I saw him.
The deep tan he usually wears by midsummer has faded, and the top part of his scar peeks out with enough reddish hue to catch my attention.
The broad shoulders that always made him seem larger than life now carry the unmistakable weight of recovery.
My chest squeezes at the sight and I try to tiptoe past him, but no luck.
His eyes pop open after I take a few steps away from him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I laugh. “Busted.”
“You were never good at sneaking around.” His smile widens as he reaches for my hand. “Come over here. Let me look at you.”
I settle into the chair beside him, and he studies me for a long moment before nodding with obvious approval. “My girl.”
“You mean your little girl.”
“I’ve never called you anything else. I was trying to make you feel grown-up.”
The reminder warms something deep inside me. I’d almost forgotten how much I missed hearing it in his voice. “I’ll never be too grown up for you.”
“You’re sweet,” he says.
I wrinkle my nose. “Dad, I’m clean. I desperately needed a shower.”
“I wasn’t talking about your scent, but now that you mention it...”
I lean over and kiss his cheek. “I know I said it before, but I missed you a lot. Being away from family is something I never got used to.”
“Same here, hon. We’ll never get used to you being away. Me and your mom.”
I sit on the loveseat which is close enough to his recliner that he holds my hand.
It closes gently around mine and, with Trooper on the floor between us, we simply sit there enjoying the silence.
No words. Just the quiet comfort that comes from finally being in the same room again with someone you love.
I realize how many nights when I didn’t have leave to call, and read their letters, wishing I could hear their voices instead.
“I save them. Every one of them,” I confess.
“Every what?”
“Your letters and Mom’s. The cards. The little notes you guys tucked into care packages.” I smile. “Whenever I get homesick, I read them again.”
His eyes glisten. “Us, too.”
“I used to think you outgrew homesickness, but I don’t think believe that now.
You get homesick for your life back home when a holiday hits and you aren’t with family, or when Summer hits and you’re somewhere they say they have steamed crabs, and you know they have no idea what real steamed crabs taste like. ”
The room falls quiet again before Dad nods toward the kitchen. “So… your mother.”
I sigh. “I’ve been home less than an hour. It was her tone…I nearly…”
“I know.”
“I was hoping this time it would be different.” I shrug. “Never mind.”
“She’s never going to be different, Charity. She just is the way she is. You’ve gotta love her anyway.”
I look down at our joined hands, shaking my head. “I was never good at appeasing her.”
Dad gives my fingers a gentle squeeze. “Your mother loves you.”
“We butt heads. She has a weird way of showing it sometimes.”
He chuckles. “I didn’t say she was good at it.”
A reluctant smile escapes me. “No. You didn’t.”
“I won’t make apologies for her either. She worries,” he continues. “Sometimes, about everything, and her worry comes out sounding like criticism. Doesn’t make it right, but it makes her easier to understand.”
“I don’t want to argue with her, Dad. It’s exhausting.”
“I know.”
I study him for a second. “Why do you always defend her?”
He smiles the same patient smile I’ve watched my entire life. “I can’t help myself. I love her.”
The front door opens and Trooper charges toward it like a guard dog ten times his size.
“Hey, buddy. Look what I got you.” Dave kneels and clasps a collar with a name tag around his neck. It’s bright blue. Dave hands me a thin leash as he opens the door again and pulls in a large bag of food.
“That’s, like, forty poun—” I exclaim, my eyes going wide.
“I couldn’t help myself,” he says.
Trooper proudly sticks out his chest, and my eyes immediately find the new collar. “Oh, cute!” I run my fingers beneath it. “Look at you, big boy!”
Dave shrugs. “I wanted him to feel special.”