Chapter 34
Jagger
I woke drenched in sweat and bolted upright.
It took me a full minute to realize I was in a bedroom at the Emersons’ and not a tent in Khalari.
My chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it, but it was only the weight of the dream—the same damn one I’d had for months now.
It always ended the same way, with the crack of gunfire, followed by the thud of a body hitting the dirt.
I never saw the aftermath of the gun going off.
But I didn’t need to; it was a moment seared into my brain forever.
I looked over at the end table, where I put my pills after I took one when I brushed my teeth at night, but the bottle wasn’t there. Shaking my head, I scoffed at myself. Great. You got your sister to take all her meds but forgot to take your own.
My shirt was soaked through, clinging to my back.
I peeled it off as I pushed out of bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
Standing in the dark, I poured a glass of water from the tap, shook two pills from the prescription bottle that instructed me to take one, and popped both in my mouth.
It was going to take them a while to kick in, and I needed something to take the edge off now.
So I went back to my room, dug out my emergency stash of weed, and quietly rolled a joint in the dark.
The Emersons didn’t like me smoking in the house, so I opened the bedroom window, climbed out, and sat on the slanted roof.
Two puffs in, the window next to me opened and Marla swung a leg through.
“I smelled that with the window shut,” she said.
“Sorry. Did it wake you?”
She took a seat next to me and held out her hand for the joint. “No.” She inhaled and held her breath for thirty seconds before letting it out. “But your nightmare earlier did.”
My eyes flashed to meet hers. “I yelled?”
She nodded and extended the joint back to me. “You’ve been doing it almost every night since you got back.”
“Sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for.” Marla smiled sadly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head. “Not really.”
She bumped her shoulder with mine. “Shocker. You’re such an open book, Langston.”
I smiled and brought the joint to my lips.
“How are your sister and your mom doing?” she asked.
“I think they take turns making me nuts. I got Catherine back on her meds last week, but now my mother is off hers and MIA.” I paused. “It’s fucked up. I was gone for four years, and when I go there, it’s like I never left. Nothing’s changed.”
“I know one thing that’s changed,” Marla said. I offered her the joint back, but she waved me off. “You. You’ve changed.”
I looked over at my foster sister. “It’s impossible to have witnessed the shit I’ve seen and be the same.”
“But you’re talking to someone, right?”
I’d gone to a doctor at the VA hospital to get sleeping pills.
He wanted me to start talking to a therapist, but pouring my heart out to some guy who would ask me shit like “And how does that make you feel?” wasn’t my thing.
Though I didn’t want Marla to worry, so I nodded. “Yeah, I got myself a doc.”
“Good.”
I’d already talked about myself more than I cared to, so I changed the subject. “How’s the new job going?”
“Awful. My boss is a chauvinistic dick. He asked me to fetch him a cup of coffee. I’m not his personal assistant. I have a damn degree in economics.”
“Accidentally spill it on him.”
She smiled. “I should.”
I took a long draw on the joint and spoke while holding it in. “Why don’t you quit?”
“Because I’m not sure what I want to do or where I want to go. Actually, that’s not true. I’d love to go live in London for a while.”
“Really?”
Marla nodded.
“So do it.”
She snort-laughed and covered her mouth. “Oh my God. I’m really stoned already. How are you still smoking that thing?”
I chuckled. “Bet you no one in London sounds like a hyena when they laugh.”
She shoved me. “Shut up.”
“Seriously.” I inhaled again. “Why don’t you find a job in London, if that’s what you really want to do?”
“Because I’m not you, boy genius with balls of steel.”
“I prefer man genius now.”
She smiled and sighed. “Maybe you can open an office in London one day when you’re rich, and I’ll run it for you.”
I shrugged. “Okay. I’ll do that.” Feeling pretty high myself, I tapped the head of the joint against a shingle to put it out. “But I’m going to try to crash now. I have a long drive ahead of me tomorrow.”
“Where are you going?”
“To visit a buddy of mine’s family.”
“Oh.” Marla’s face softened. “Nelson. Mom told me about that. How come the Marines didn’t ship his stuff home when he—”
“They did. But I have some stuff I won from him in a card game that I want to return.”
She smiled. “You’re a good friend.”
If she only knew the truth. I wasn’t a good friend or a good leader. If I had been, John Nelson would still be alive. I pushed to my feet and held a hand out to help Marla up.
“’Night.”
I had one leg in my window when Marla called. “Hey, Jagger?”
“Yeah?”
“If you ever want to talk about your dreams or…anything, I’ll always be here for you. Even if my window isn’t next to yours anymore.”
“Thanks, Marla.”
***
The following morning, I got an early start on the drive down to Maryland.
Sergeant John Nelson’s family lived in a small town along the coast that looked really nice as I drove through.
My heart grew heavy as I turned onto his street and passed a dad teaching his little boy how to ride a bike.
My friend would never get to do that because of me.
Nelson’s house was a small blue Cape. There was an old push-mower in the middle of the front lawn, which was almost knee high and only half cut.
It looked like someone had given up in the middle of the job.
The front door was open, except for the screen door, and I could hear a kid’s show playing from a TV inside somewhere. I took a deep breath and knocked.
A woman who looked vaguely familiar came to the door and smiled. “You must be Jagger.”
“Bridget?”
She opened the screen door. The bottom was wood, so I’d only seen the top half of her until that moment. When I saw the rest, my heart leaped into my throat.
“You’re…”
She rubbed her very swollen belly and smiled. “Eight months along. John got leave to come home for our son’s first day of kindergarten. It happened then.”
I closed my eyes. “I had no idea.”
“How could you? I hadn’t even told John yet.
I had so many complications with my first pregnancy and wound up bedridden for four months.
John was such a worry-wart, and I didn’t want him to not be focused while he was where he was, so I didn’t tell him.
He was supposed to be discharged when I was six months along, so I figured he’d come home to a big surprise. ”
I swallowed.
Bridget stepped back and waved me in. “Well, come on in.”
I panicked and thumbed behind me. “Actually, could I…finish mowing the lawn for you?”
“Sergeant Langston, I can’t let you do that, even if it does take me all day to get through it.”
“It’s Jagger. I’m not a marine anymore, so no need for the honorific.”
She smiled. “My husband would disagree. He always said, Once a marine, always a marine.”
I looked back at the lawn. “I’d really like to mow, if it’s okay with you.”
She shrugged. “I’m not going to stop you.”
I extended the box in my hand. “These are the things we spoke about on the phone.”
Bridget took the box, and I took my time mowing the rest of Sergeant John Nelson’s lawn. It was hot as hell today, but I didn’t mind one bit. After, I put the mower back in the garage, and then I couldn’t avoid his wife or going inside his house anymore.
Bridget opened the door with a tall glass of lemonade in her hand. “For you.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
The contents of the box I’d brought were laid out all over the table—things I’d won over the last few years of playing cards.
Most of it was stupid—a belt, a cell phone charger, one left sneaker, a toothbrush, a piece of paper with his Netflix password.
But there was also a leather wallet I thought she might actually want to keep.
Bridget lifted the sneaker. “I wondered why there was only one when they shipped home John’s things. ”
I smiled. “I figured maybe the belt and wallet might be nice to have.”
She picked up two small photos I’d never seen before and held them out to me. “These were inside his wallet.”
One was a photo of me and Nelson with our arms around each other. I swallowed. “We took this the night we finished basic training.”
She gestured to it. “Turn it over.”
I recognized John’s chicken-scratch handwriting. Lucas, if I’m ever not around and you need something, call this guy. My phone number was listed after.
Jesus Christ. There was a sting behind my eyes.
Bridget patted my hand. “You meant a lot to him.”
“He meant a lot to me, too.”
The second picture was of their son, Lucas. He had on his dad’s helmet, which was five sizes too big for his little head, a diaper, and a smile.
Bridget pointed to the refrigerator. “That’s one of my favorite pictures of Lucas. He looks just like his daddy. John had me make a copy to take with him.”
“Would it…be all right if I kept it?” I asked. I wasn’t even sure why I wanted it or what I would do with it.
Bridget smiled. “I’d like that. Would you like the photo of you and John, too?”
“No. That’s for Lucas. You tell him to use the number on the back if he ever needs anything. Same goes for you, Bridget.”
“Thank you, Jagger.” She kissed my cheek. “You take care of yourself.”