Slow Dance

Sixty-Six

Ryan had the kids on Friday, and Shiloh was anxious to be alone with Cary. He was already down to fifteen days of leave. (What

could they solve in fifteen days?)

They were supposed to have dinner, but she called to see if he wanted to meet earlier—the theater was dead on Friday afternoons.

“Yeah,” Cary said. “Definitely. But, um, I was just about to visit my mom.”

“Ah, okay.” Shiloh tried not to sound disappointed. “Call me after?”

“I mean... you could come along? If you want?”

“To see your mom?”

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“No,” Shiloh said, “I will. I’d like to.”

“I’m leaving Mikey’s in twenty minutes or so...”

“Pick me up.”

Shiloh was waiting on her steps when Cary pulled up. It was a hot day. She was wearing a navy blue eyelet dress and denim

pedal pushers with metallic pink ballet flats.

She was thinking about her mother-in-law (her first mother-in-law? no, too soon), a suburban lady who worked as a school nurse.

She’d liked Shiloh just fine. She’d wanted Shiloh to stay. At Gus’s first birthday, she’d sat next to Shiloh and said, “Look at those beautiful children. They deserve two parents.”

Shiloh ran down the sidewalk before Cary could get out of the car. She got in the passenger seat—then gasped. (She sounded

like Junie.)

Cary was wearing an all-white uniform. White pants. White short-sleeved shirt. White belt . There were ribbons on his chest and stripes on his shoulders.

“Look at you!” she said. “Are Fridays uniform days?”

“My mom likes to see me in uniform. I was going to change before dinner.”

She poked his side. “I’ll bet the nurses love you.”

He smiled a little. “The nurses do love me.”

She poked his thigh. She touched the insignia on his shoulder. Felt the gold embroidery. Ran her fingertips down the front

of his shirt placket. The white fabric made his neck and arms look tan. “What is this uniform for?”

Cary had started driving. “Summer whites. For ceremonies. For visiting your mother.”

“Are there winter whites, too?”

“There are winter blues, you’ve seen them.”

“You’re like an American Girl doll. You have your own wardrobe.”

They were at a red light. Cary leaned over to kiss Shiloh’s cheek. “I knew you’d make fun of me.”

“This isn’t making fun. This is sincere appreciation. I’m going to start requesting uniformed visits, too.”

He smiled at her. Because she was implying future visits and a future. Because they were supposedly engaged.

They were engaged.

Sort of.

It had happened too quickly for Shiloh to process. Cary had said that he loved her—and she still hadn’t quite swallowed it.

She still wasn’t over the initial shock of seeing him again. Having him here. Touching him in small ways. If she thought about

being engaged or being in love, Shiloh would start shaking her head.

She shook her head. She rubbed his thigh. “Is this polyester? I feel like the men and women of the military deserve better.”

Cary caught her hand and squeezed it.

When they got out of the car, Cary produced a very impressive hat. White, with a black brim and a big gold anchor.

“You look like a cruise ship captain!”

“No, they look like me.”

“Like Captain Stubing,” she said.

“No.”

The nurses and elderly people did in fact love Cary. If he ever felt bad about himself, he could just suit up and cruise a

retirement home. He stood tall, with his hat in his hand. It took forever to get to his mom’s room.

As soon as Cary knocked, Shiloh realized they hadn’t gotten their stories straight. She’d been too dazzled by all that white

polyester. What did his mom know... about Shiloh?

Cary’s mom answered the door, standing behind a walker—and immediately let go of it to clap her hands. “Cary! You brought

my guardian angel!”

Shiloh smiled. “Hi, Lois.”

Cary leaned over to kiss his mom’s cheek.

“You too, Shiloh,” Lois said. “Come on.”

Shiloh gave her a loose and gentle hug, careful of her oxygen tube and the walker. Lois looked much better than she had in

the hospital. She was up and around. Her hair looked freshly colored. But she seemed frail compared to the day they all ran

errands together. She’d lost more weight.

Lois patted Shiloh’s back. “You are still so tall... Come on in and see my fancy apartment. I’ve got everything I need

here.”

Shiloh looked around. They were standing in a small living room with demure, neutral-colored furniture. Some of Lois’s angel

collection had made its way to the shelves and tables. There was a TV against one wall—Lois was watching a courtroom show.

One side of the room was a kitchenette, with a half-sized fridge, a microwave and a freestanding counter.

“Sit down, Shiloh. I made some iced tea. And I have those cookies you brought me, Cary. Get Shiloh some iced tea and cookies.”

Cary went to do what he was told. He set his hat on the couch. Shiloh sat down next to it.

“I have my own kitchen,” Lois said, carefully easing herself down into a chair. “I make myself eggs sometimes, with the hot

plate, but there’s a dining room downstairs, so I’ve been getting lazy.”

“That’s not lazy,” Shiloh said. “That’s smart. This is a such a pretty room. I’m glad you brought your angels.”

Lois looked at the coffee table. “Ha! This isn’t even half of them. Angel—my Angel—says it’s too much for the ladies to dust

them all, so I had to pick my favorites. Did you know someone cleans for me? It’s like I’m on vacation. I’m going to miss

all this when I go home.”

“I’m so glad you found this place,” Shiloh said. “It seems like a really great fit.”

“Oh, you know, Cary found it.”

Cary was coming back into the living room with two glasses of iced tea.

“There he is,” Lois said. “Isn’t he handsome? That’s my baby boy. Get Shiloh some cookies, Cary.”

“I can’t find them.” He picked up the remote and turned down the TV.

“They’re in the fridge. So the chocolate doesn’t melt.”

He went for the cookies.

His mom raised her voice. “Did Eliza at the front desk see your uniform?”

“I think so.”

“We have to say hi to her before you go. Her son is in the Army.” Lois looked at Shiloh. “Their uniforms aren’t as nice.”

Cary was back with a package of cookies and another glass of iced tea for himself. He stopped to open the blinds. Shiloh hadn’t

even realized how dim it was in here.

“That sun is going to heat up my rooms,” his mom complained.

Cary sat next to Shiloh on the couch. “You have air-conditioning.”

“I don’t like to use it.”

Cary frowned. “Please use it.” He got up to check the thermostat.

“Sit down, ” his mom said. “This is how he is, Shiloh.”

“I know,” Shiloh said. “He did my dishes last night.”

Lois clucked her tongue.

“How does your hip feel?” Shiloh asked. Cary sat down next to her again.

“Oh, it’s good, it’s better,” Lois said. “I go to rehab right here. Did you see Kathy down there, Cary?”

“I’m not sure.”

“She’s very pretty. Blond. She’s a physical therapist. I told her about you.”

“Mom.”

“Shiloh, tell him,” Lois said. “It’s not good to be alone.”

Shiloh turned to Cary. “It’s not good to be alone.”

Cary narrowed his eyes.

“You should be giving me grandchildren,” Lois said.

“You have plenty of grandchildren,” he said.

“None as sweet as you were, Cary.”

They ate Lois’s sugar-free cookies and drank iced tea. Lois kept thinking of things for Cary to do, and then she kept telling

him to sit down.

They watched an episode of Judge Judy .

Then Lois wanted to take Cary downstairs to meet her friends. Cary made an excuse for Shiloh, so she could stay in the room

if she wanted. She did. She watched another episode of Judge Judy .

When Cary and his mom came back, Lois looked wiped out. He helped her to her chair. “I think I’ll just make myself some dinner

tonight,” she said.

“I’ll go get you something and bring it back,” Cary said.

“No. I’ll be fine.”

“If you don’t eat it, you can have it tomorrow.” He was already headed for the door.

“Cary—”

He was gone.

Lois sighed. She sat back. Her blouse was caught up in the arm of the chair. She struggled with it for a second. Shiloh leaned

over to help.

“Thank you, Shiloh. You’re a sweetheart.”

“Did you see your friends down there?”

“Oh, yeah. I made sure they all met Cary. I’ve been telling them all about him. Isn’t he handsome in his uniform?”

“He is,” Shiloh said.

“He looks like his father.”

Shiloh did the genetic math for a second and decided that was possible. “I’m impressed by how many friends you’ve made. I’d

probably just hide in my room.”

“There are some good old girls here. I’m going to miss them.” Lois frowned.

“Do you want your iced tea?”

“I do want it, thank you.”

Shiloh handed her the tea.

“Cary says I could stay here,” Lois said. “But he says I’d have to sell my house to pay for it.”

“Mmm,” Shiloh said, listening.

“But what if I needed to go home? And what if... well, you never know when someone is going to need a place to stay.”

Shiloh nodded.

“ You know how it is,” Lois said. “You live with your mother. Family takes care of each other.”

“I think Cary wants to take care of you, ” Shiloh said, hoping she wasn’t speaking out of turn.

“He’s a good boy.”

“He’s a good man. You should be proud of yourself to have raised a son like that. And you should tell me your secret—my son is a pill .”

Lois laughed. “No. He’s a sweet boy. Shiloh, will you close these curtains?”

Shiloh got up.

“Do you think it’s true,” Lois asked, “that if I sold my house, I could stay here?”

“I don’t know,” Shiloh said, shuttering the blinds. “But I trust Cary.”

Cary’s hat came back on for the short walk to the car.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was a long visit.”

“It was a solid visit,” Shiloh said. “I hate when people visit elderly people and are on their way out the whole time. That’s

how we always were with my great-grandmother. And Ryan’s grandpa.”

They got in the car. Cary dropped his cap in the back seat. “Is it okay if I change before we go out?”

“Is it against the rules for you to be out in your uniform?”

“No. It just draws attention.”

“All the swooning gets on your nerves?”

He just raised his eyebrows for a second like, Something like that .

“We could get takeout,” Shiloh said. “There’s nobody at my house to salute you.”

They stopped at a steakhouse on the other side of the park. Every meal came with mashed potatoes and a small salad with creamy

Italian dressing, all packaged in Styrofoam containers.

When they got to her house, Shiloh moved the food to real plates, which Cary said was silly if she hated doing dishes so much.

She told him to sit down—she sounded like his mother. Shiloh put his plate in the toaster oven and found a couple Fiestaware

candleholders for the table. She got out the Zippo lighter he’d sent her to light the candles. That made Cary laugh.

When Shiloh brought out his chicken Parmesan, she frowned at his white shirt. “Why’d you order red sauce?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Let me get you a bib.”

“I don’t need a bib .”

“At least take off your fancy shirt.”

He took off his uniform shirt and hung it over one of the empty chairs. He was wearing a V-neck undershirt. She gave him a

big cloth dish towel to tie around his neck, but he put it in his lap.

When Shiloh went to get her own plate, she took the engagement ring off her necklace and slid it onto her finger.

Cary noticed right away. He raised an eyebrow and smiled at her.

“Your mom thinks she’s moving home,” she said.

“Yeah”—he picked up his salad bowl—“but she also doesn’t want to leave her new apartment. I’m making progress with her. And

I think I’m getting through to Angel. I sat her down and showed her the bank statements. The truth is, my mom can’t keep that

house if I stop helping with the mortgage. And I’m not going to subsidize a bad and unsafe situation.”

“You’re paying for the nursing home and helping with the mortgage?”

He’d taken a bite. He covered his mouth. “At the moment.”

“Does Angel have a place to go?”

Cary swallowed. He was making a stern face. “I can’t let that be my problem. I can’t let all of them be my problem. It never ends, and nothing changes.”

Shiloh touched his forearm. “I’m sorry. I don’t know the whole story.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I’m willing to tell you the whole story—it’s just a messed-up story.” He took another bite. “You already

know I’m white trash.”

“Cary.” She touched his arm again and squeezed it. “I grew up a few blocks away from you, and I still live here. With my mother . ‘Ich bin ein Berliner,’ as they say.”

“It’s not the same, and you know it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think of you that way. I never have.”

“Your mom does.”

“That would be the pot calling the kettle trash. Also”—Shiloh poked his shoulder—“my mom likes you. She’s been trying to get

me to hook up with you since I was sixteen. If I tell her we’re engaged, she’s going to dump Gatorade over my head.”

“‘If,’ huh?”

Shiloh felt her face get serious. “When.”

Cary looked down at his food again. His cheeks and neck were flushed.

“Can I take a photo of you?” she asked.

“Now?”

“Just like this.”

“I’ll put my shirt back on.”

“No. Unless you’re breaking some Navy rule.” Shiloh was already up. Her camera was in the living room. She checked that there

was film, then stood by her chair. “Go back to eating.”

“No.”

“Just hold your fork. Look natural.”

He picked up his fork. He lowered his eyebrows.

“You look really handsome,” she said. “You look vivid.”

He smiled a little, and she took a photo.

“Take one of us together,” he said.

“How?”

“Sit in my lap.”

“I’m too tall to sit in your lap.”

“No you’re not.”

She walked over to him, and he pulled her down with his arms around her waist.

Shiloh sat on his lap and tilted her head against his, holding out the camera facing them. She took photos with the kids like

this sometimes; she thought of it as a single-parent skill. “I’m going to take a lot because these probably won’t turn out.”

She did.

When Shiloh stood up, Cary’s hands trailed after her. She sat back down in her chair, but she scooted closer to him.

“I think my mom thinks you’re still married,” he said. “Otherwise she’d have her eye on you.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’d rather you marry someone who didn’t already have kids.”

“That would be hypocritical of her.”

“Mothers are inherently hypocritical. ‘Do as I say,’ every one of us.” Shiloh took a bite of her chicken-fried chicken and

smiled at him. “I still can’t believe how lucky I am to have caught you in costume. Can I try on your hat?”

Cary looked amused. “Why do girls always want to try on the cap?”

“What girls?”

“Girls in bars. They think it’s sexy.”

“ Is it?” she asked.

His cheek dimpled. “Sometimes.”

“Girls in bars... ” Shiloh said, looking down at her salad and picking up a fork. “Never mind. I am never trying on your hat.”

“It’s called a cap. Or a cover.”

“Hmm,” she said, still thinking about Cary in a bar, looking like Tom Cruise in Top Gun .

Cary nudged her knee with his. “Why don’t you ever say anything bad about the Navy?”

She looked up from the table. “What?”

“You haven’t said anything negative. No passive-aggressive comments. No bald criticism.”

“Why would I do that? That’d be very disrespectful.”

Cary shot her a look. “Since when do you care about being disrespectful?”

“I don’t know,” Shiloh said sincerely. “But it must have kicked in at some point...”

“You don’t have to be respectful with me.”

“Cary, you’re one of the only people in the world I actually do respect.”

“Shiloh.” He leaned over his chicken Parmesan. She pulled the plate away from his chest. “I know you hate that I’m in the Navy. You’ve always hated it. You want to fund the schools and make the military throw a bake sale.”

“Are you quoting a bumper sticker that I had on my math book in eleventh grade?”

He nodded deeply. “Yes.”

“Well...” She shrugged, then held up her fork. “ One, I was an asshole in eleventh grade. Ask literally anyone.

“ Two... ” She shook her head. “Two is still that I was an asshole. I hadn’t given any serious thought to geopolitical realities. I

was just talking big—and taking the stance that matched my outfits.”

Cary was listening intently. There was a line between his eyebrows.

Shiloh set down her fork. “I don’t know... The military seemed like an awful life to me. I couldn’t understand why anyone

would opt into it—why you would opt in, when you were so smart and gentle and could do other things. I didn’t want you to die in Kuwait.”

“Very few Americans died in Kuwait,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t want you to die in Iraq or Afghanistan, either. Or really, anywhere, for any reason, other

than extreme old age. So I guess that’s a feeling I share with my seventeen-year-old self—fear.”

Shiloh could hear her voice getting higher. “I don’t like that you’re in the Navy because it’s dangerous . And because it means— Well, I don’t know what it means for us, actually, because we haven’t discussed it. But I know I only

have fifteen more days with you before you leave again. So I hate that.”

Cary’s right hand was on the table. Shiloh took hold of it with her left, the one with the ring. “But I don’t hate that you’re in the Navy, Cary. I can’t. It’s so clearly who you are now. It’s ingrained—it’s practi cally embroidered. And I respect you . I’m grateful for you, I thank you for your service.”

Cary’s face crinkled. It was an almost laugh. “That’s a first.”

“Let me be sincere,” she said.

His smile faded. “Sorry.” He turned his palm up, so he could hold her hand. “So... you don’t have moral and ethical objections?”

Shiloh blew air into her lips. Her head fell back on her chair. “I feel like I’m disappointing you... I hope you weren’t

in love with my teenage principles. They weren’t exactly thought through.”

She lifted her head and sighed. “I think I’d have to do a lot of reading to know whether I have ethical objections to the

military beyond garden-variety feelings about torture and bombing civilians. I mean”—she raised her shoulders—“I feel really

strongly that we should close Guantánamo. Is that something?”

Cary laughed.

Shiloh frowned. “I do morally object to you laughing about Guantánamo...”

“That’s not why I’m laughing. I’m just surprised. With you.”

“I haven’t changed completely, Cary—I’m not, like, pro-war now.”

“No one in the military is pro-war.”

“I don’t actually believe you,” she said, “but okay.”

Cary was still smiling, listening.

Shiloh bit down on her lips for a second. She hummed. “I’m worried that you think I’m still the way I was in high school.”

She shook her head a few times. “I used to be so certain, about everything. I felt like I could sort the whole world into good and bad, right and wrong. Now I’m...” She pulled

his hand closer to her. “I’m never sure about anything . Everything is complicated. Everyone is flawed. Most things are a compromise.”

She squeezed his hand. “Do you want me to be more vehement about things? Did you love that about me?”

“I love you, ” he said.

Was that the second time he’d said it, or the third? She shook her head again.

“Shiloh, I love you.”

She looked into his eyes until she couldn’t, then she looked down at her plate.

Cary stroked her hand with his thumb. “I’d be concerned if none of your opinions had changed since high school. And I’m relieved

to hear that you don’t hate the very idea of the Navy—”

“What I hate is the idea of being a Navy wife!” Shiloh blurted out. She let go of his hand to wave her own hand around. “I’ve

been on the Internet, and there are blogs and support groups. It’s a whole vibe, Cary, and I don’t think I can do it!”

He laughed out loud. “You don’t have to join a group.”

“These women...” She covered her face with one hand. “They’re very pretty and very devoted. They say things like ‘my sailor.’

They make T-shirts.”

“Shiloh, you don’t have to do any of that. Those are just... the same people who would blog and make T-shirts no matter

where they were in life.”

“You don’t know. You’re not on the blogs.”

“I’ve met plenty of Navy wives and husbands. You don’t have to do anything special.”

Shiloh sighed.

He took her hand again. “Have you been googling your concerns?”

“I’ve done some googling over the last six months,” she said, a little defensive. “The Navy wives have a lot to say about

care packages.”

Cary tugged on her arm. “Let’s talk about this,” he said, suddenly urgent. He lowered his eyebrows. “Brass tacks. Are you

ready for that?”

Shiloh groaned. “I don’t know... it’s a lot to take in.”

“I know, but—”

“I know, I know.” She pulled her hand away. “You’ve got fifteen days to fix your whole life.” Shiloh started eating again. Very purposefully. “Talk to me, Cary. What’s your plan? I love a marriage proposal that starts out ‘ I can’t give you the life you deserve ’—so let’s hear your pitch.”

Cary took a bite, too. “Okay,” he said, chewing for a few seconds. “I’ve been in the Navy for fifteen years. I can retire

at twenty.”

“Like, actually retire?”

“Yes.”

“At thirty-eight?”

“Thirty-nine,” he said, “but yeah.”

“But they won’t let you out before then?”

“They will, but I get military benefits at twenty years of service. That’s almost half my salary, plus healthcare. Even if

I get another job.”

“Holy shit — that seems smart, Cary. You should definitely do that.”

“But it means I go where the Navy sends me for the next five years.”

Shiloh frowned. “Yeah.”

“I’m in San Diego for another year or so. And then I’ll get new orders—a new assignment. I’m guessing you can’t move away

from your ex...”

Shiloh shook her head.

“That’s okay, that’s good.”

“That’s good?”

Cary cocked his head. “Well, for the kids, right?”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“Okay, well...” He was sitting very straight. His chin was perfectly level. “That means a year of long distance, at the

minimum. But you can come see me in San Diego, maybe one weekend a month? Sometimes two? When you’re not on duty? I’m burning

through my leave right now, but I could come back some weekends, here and there.” He was being very businesslike. Like he’d

worked up a spreadsheet. “And I can talk on the phone. Have you heard of Skype? We could Skype.”

Shiloh nodded. “We could Skype.”

Cary bolted down another bite. “And then, I can list preferences for my next duty station—that just means where they put me. And there are jobs here, at STRATCOM.”

“In Bellevue?” There was a military base in the Omaha suburbs, fifteen minutes away. “Isn’t that an Air Force base?”

“It’s Strategic Command. It’s a little bit of everybody. And people aren’t tripping over each other to get stationed in Omaha—there’s

a good chance I’d get my request.”

“There’s a chance you’d be here ?” Shiloh was crying all of a sudden.

“Hey...” Cary said gently. “Come here.”

He pulled her back onto his lap. Shiloh sat sideways, it was still awkward.

She put her hands on his cheeks. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

“Well, we haven’t talked about it.”

“We haven’t talked about anything, Cary! You proposed to me before we even went on a date! This is crazy !”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just want to be with you.” He kissed her. “I’m tired of not being with you, Shiloh.” He kissed her again.

“I’m exhausted. I need to turn my sail into the wind.” He kissed her until she pulled away.

“So you might live here ?” she asked.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“With me?” Her voice broke.

“With you. I’ll try.”

Cary wiped her eyes with his thumb. His hands smelled like marinara.

“Well, that would be great,” Shiloh said.

He laughed. “I agree. But... worst-case scenario, five years of weekends. Thirty days of leave a year. Maybe another six-to-nine-month

deployment at sea. I mean”—he kissed her quickly—“ worst -case scenario, if it’s just not working, I leave the Navy.”

“That would be dumb, right?”

He shrugged. “Well, yeah, but... we’ll just take it as it comes. That’s what I’m proposing.”

“And in five years?”

“I move home. Not here. I gotta be honest, I don’t even want you to live here. This neighborhood depresses the crap out of me.”

“Are you putting my house on the market, too?”

“Oh, I’ve got ideas...”

“And you say I’m manipulative.”

“We can live wherever you want,” Cary said. “For the rest of our lives.”

Shiloh ran both hands through his hair. “And you’ll grow your hair out and let me braid it.”

“No.”

“Maybe,” Shiloh said. “You’re gonna owe me big .”

“What do you think of my plan?” he asked in a soft voice.

She touched his ears, his cheeks, his eyebrows. “I still don’t know what it’s like to be with you,” she whispered. “And I

don’t know how I’m going to find out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And I think... if we’re going to be married and living apart, you’re going to have to start letting me in on your plans

sooner .”

He pressed his forehead into her chin. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Shiloh laid her cheek on top of his head. “But it’s a good plan, Cary.”

He looked up at her, dislodging her head. “Yeah?”

She nodded.

Cary shot his hand out to grab his cap and dropped it on top of Shiloh’s head.

She shrieked and tried too late to cover her head, knocking the cap askew. “I’m not one of your girls!”

Cary hugged her. “Yeah, you are. You’re my number one.”