Chapter 22
Chapter 22
H is bungalow felt oddly cozy for a plotting session with Indonesian gangsters. Jones sat at the bar connected to the kitchen, idly listening while Ribs and Victoria swapped war stories. He could have added a few of his own, but he didn’t. Not only was his mind occupied with the coming task, but it would have made him feel a little pathetic, like he was trying too hard to be one of them. And even though he had technically been an elite commando for a decade, he wasn’t one of them, not really. Not only had he left that world behind but, at heart, maybe he had always been that Nebraska farm boy. And maybe that was okay.
The other source of the coziness, Carol, was currently filling the space with enticing smells. Jones had no idea what magic she wove, only that his house had never smelled like this before. Somehow it was as if the smells had transformative powers that replaced all the empty molecules, making the space feel lived in and alive, vibrant with spice and vitality. He tried to muster a bit of annoyance at the repeated interruptions but failed mightily. Jones was and always had been a people person. Despite how much he’d tried to keep his home separate from work, it now felt like heaven to have it populated by noise and life and a flow of humanity. Like the end of a dangling cord finally plugged back into a receptacle. After a few moments of pretending not to watch, he set aside his paper and rested his head on his arms, dozily watching Carol as she flitted around his kitchen.
“Like watching a cooking show,” he murmured. She finished chopping whatever she’d been working on, tossed it into a hot pan with a satisfying sizzle, gave it a little shake, and tossed Jones a piece of banana. He caught it in his mouth like a dog and, with zero remorse, made a pathetic face, hoping for more.
“Wait, I have a thing,” Carol said, giving the pan a shake again. Then from somewhere beneath the counter she removed an oversized green coconut and machete. That was so surprising that Victoria and Ribs paused their comparison of their time in Belarus to dart her a confused glance.
“Don’t you love having these whenever you want them?” Carol gushed.
“Um…sure,” Jones said cagily.
She paused hacking at the thing to frown. “David, really? You live in tropical paradise and you’ve never had a fresh coconut?”
“I’ve been busy,” he defended, a blatant lie. The truth was that green coconuts were on the list marked OTHER. Coconuts should be brown, dried, and on a market shelf in America where he would similarly never touch them. “Why does it bother you?”
She paused, frowning now at the coconut. “I don’t know. Maybe because I feel you’re not living up to your potential.”
“Maybe I am,” Jones countered. “Maybe all there is to me is a guy who likes hot dogs and corn on repeat.”
She set aside the coconut and leaned closer, resting her hands on the counter between them. “Then why are you here? Why didn’t you stay in Nebraska? Why did you become a SEAL instead of remain a sailor? There’s dignity in both those things. What drove you to seek the next step?”
The question gave him pause. “Because I wanted more,” he said, but the answer wasn’t good enough for Carol.
“Everyone wants more. Dig a little deeper. What was it that pushed you to those things specifically? Leaving home, attaining further training, moving to an island half a world away.”
His heart thumped and he had no idea why, but it was the same sort of anticipation he’d felt when he read the ad for his current job. Why, though? What was the connection between all the things he’d pushed his life to become? It wasn’t about escape, because he had neither wanted nor needed to escape. Jones loved his life, his family, his people. Leaving them had been the hardest part.
“I guess,” he eked slowly, thoughts running ahead of his words as they attempted to align themselves in the proper order. “I guess I wasn’t content to lead an ordinary life. I wanted to make certain my life was full, that I lived it to the utmost and the fullest, claiming every experience.”
Carol beamed at him, a teacher whose star pupil had made her proud. “Exactly. Food is part of that; food is part of everything. To come all this way and not immerse yourself means you’re missing a vital step in attaining the full experience.” She finished arranging the coconut, inserted a giant straw she’d also miraculously procured, and presented it to Jones. Dutifully he took a sip. Carol clasped her hands under her chin, awaiting his reaction.
“Okay, it’s amazing,” he admitted.
Carol beamed and gave his arm a squeeze. “I knew there was more to you than met the eye, David.” Satisfied, she busied herself once again with whatever was in the pan. Jones returned his attention to the coconut, feeling…things. Few people in his life had ever believed there was more to him than met the eye. Early on his friends had been content to see him as the obligatory fat kid, never realizing the heart of a warrior beat inside. Even after his transformation people stubbornly held on to the affable image. Jones is so nice, so sweet, so even tempered and cheerful. He was all of those things, and they were all good, positive things to be. What ate at Jones, what drove him and kept him up at night, was the unacknowledged something more inside him. And somehow Carol, painfully irritating, nitpicky Carol, was the one to see and recognize.
His glance slid to Victoria. If he were being honest, it was her recognition he’d been hoping for, or maybe someone like her. He had long wanted one of the beautiful others to look at him and see the hidden depths. The world described Victoria and women like her as a ten. She seemingly had it all. Jones had always believed that while the world might view him as a six, based on the exteriors, inside he was also a ten. Life, circumstance, and the judgment of others had incorrectly miscategorized him. But what if she did turn and see him? What if her blinders were miraculously removed and she was able to see inside him the way Carol was somehow able to see inside him? What then? Because for the last fifteen minutes she’d been talking about Eastern Europe and if she said Belarus one more time Jones thought he might hurl the coconut at her head.
On the other hand while Victoria blathered—to the point where even Ribs’s eyes were glazed with boredom—Carol created some sort of good-smelling magic with a mishmash of exotic ingredients. What if Carol is like me, too? What if she has hidden depths and realms no one would ever guess at and, like me, she’s been waiting for someone to pause and peer inside, to unveil all the hidden wonders?
Carol realized he was staring at her and paused, suddenly self-conscious. “What?”
“It smells really good,” he mused.
She sliced him a bite of mango, holding it aloft. His hands were occupied by the coconut. Without thinking he opened his mouth and she dropped it inside. Maybe it was because the mango was fresh, or maybe everything tasted better when Carol fed him. Whatever the reason, it was the best bite of fruit he’d ever had.
“I’ve always wanted to feed a SEAL,” Carol said.
Jones snorted a laugh, choking a little on a tiny hunk of mango. “You’re pretty cute, Carol,” he said when he could speak, then had the pleasure of watching a tiny little blush spill into her cheeks.
“You’re not so bad yourself, David,” she said softly, and tossed him another bite of fruit.