Seventy
Cary was trying to get the window open. He’d put on his white boxers.
Shiloh had gone to the bathroom to get a drink of water. She climbed back into bed. She was wearing a T-shirt that said, Let’s put on a show!
“Is this painted closed?” he asked.
“I don’t know, I’ve never been able to get it open.”
He grunted a few times, shoving at the windowpane. “This is a fire hazard.”
“Just leave it,” she said. “It’s hot out.”
“I’m trying to get some fresh air.” He grunted again, and the window budged. “A-ha.” He worked it farther open. “You need
a new screen. Do you have a fan?”
“Maybe in the hall closet?”
Cary headed out the bedroom door.
“Cary!”
She heard him open the closet.
“What are you doing?” she called.
“Getting the fan!” he called back. “This closet is a Charlie Foxtrot, Shiloh!”
“Come back to bed!”
He came back with the fan. “You need to keep the kids away from this; it has metal blades.”
“That’s why it was in the closet.”
He plugged in the fan and set it up in the window frame. It made a choppy helicopter sound. The air blew in from outside cool
and sweet.
Cary came back to Shiloh’s bed.
“That’s nice,” she admitted.
He lay on his back and pulled her against him. His forehead was lined. Shiloh tapped his head and mimed pulling something out of his ear.
“What’s that?” he asked, frowning at her.
“It’s a list. It says, ‘ Fix Shiloh’s window, repair screen, buy new fan. ’” She blew the imaginary list out of her hand.
“I’m going to do all those things.”
“You’ve got bigger fish to fry, my friend.”
He held her close to him and closed his eyes, humming. “We should get married now.”
“That’s not even possible...”
He opened his eyes. “It’s possible. And you’d get spousal benefits.”
“I’ve already got health insurance.”
He started to say something, but she covered his mouth. “ Cary. You’re getting your way. Be happy for a minute.”
His eyes were focused on her. They softened.
She kept her hand on his mouth. “Mikey says we’re too much alike. That we both have to be in control. Is that going to get
us in trouble?”
Cary shook his head. After a second, he pulled her hand away. “We’re just going to argue a lot.”
She laughed. “And that’s okay?”
“It’s okay with me. Lie down.”
“No.” She sat up completely, remembering something. “I need to see your tattoo.”
Cary groaned.
She lifted up his arm. The tattoo was over his ribs. Faded, but still clear. A small anchor and block letters, all in black:
HONOR.
COURAGE.
COMMITMENT.
“They’re the Navy’s core values.” His forearm was lying on his forehead. His eyes were closed again.
Shiloh stroked the tattoo with her palm and then her thumb. It was smooth except for a small welt along the anchor. “I’ve never thought of you as a tattoo person.”
“I was fresh out of boot camp and full of myself.”
“Do you have more?”
“No. I regretted that one.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “It should be enough to live it.”
Shiloh stroked his ribs. “Symbols are nice.”
He opened his eyes. He reached into the neck of her T-shirt and pulled out the dog tag. “When did you put this on a chain?”
“Freshman year. After you left.”
He tugged on it. He looked sad. Then embarrassed. “You don’t have to, but will you keep wearing it?”
“I’ll wear it until you come home again,” she said. “I’ll let you take it off.”
Cary made a fist over the chain. He closed his eyes. “I don’t know why I love that idea so much. It makes me feel like a teenager.”
Shiloh leaned closer. She kissed him. “Feel like a teenager, Cary.”
Shiloh heated up their dinners and brought them upstairs.
“You’re getting gravy on your sheets,” Cary said.
“You think I wasn’t going to have to change the sheets before just now?”
When they were done eating, she stacked their dishes under the bedside table.
Cary wanted her to sleep without her shirt. He wanted to hold her.
Shiloh wanted to touch his tattoo with her tongue to see if she could feel the lines. “Did the Navy come up with their core
values after they met you?”
“Shiloh”—Cary’s voice was serious—“Mikey told me something, and it’s been bothering me...”
She was licking him. “What?”
“Did you really vote for Ralph Nader?”
She buried her face under his arm. “Why did he tell you that?”
“What were you thinking ?”
“It made sense at the time! I’m sorry, okay?” Shiloh poked Cary’s belly. “Did you vote for W?”
He brought his arms down around her. He was laughing. “No. I voted for Al Gore. Like a sane person.”