CHAPTER 23
Palmer
Day Four
My phone rings as I’m walking Mouse out to the backyard to go potty after school. I hit answer as I say, “Come on, Mousey Moo! Let’s go potty!”
“Are you trying to rush her?” Bailey’s voice sounds tired even with the teasing edge to it.
“I mean, a little bit. I think we would both super love it if she didn’t pee in the house. Me, because I don’t have to clean the floor, and her because she won’t have to take a b-a-t-h.”
Mouse’s ears perk up, and she looks at me in horror. Her nails slip on the floor as she scuttles quickly toward the door.
I laugh loudly. “I think she’s learning how to spell.”
I hear Bailey chuckle, the sound deep and gravelly. “I like the sound of that.”
My brows knit together, confused. “A dog learning how to spell?”
“No.” The chuckling stops. “Your laugh.”
“Oh.” I can feel myself blush and try to shrug off the comment. “Thanks.”
An awkward silence passes between us, and I’m not really sure how to proceed.
We ended the conversation on kind of a deep subject last night, one I would very much like to get back into, but I can’t quite get a read on Bailey.
Does he regret telling me? Does he want to tell me more?
There are so many things I want to ask him.
Instead, I settle on what I know to be the safest topic of the ones swirling around my head. “So, what’s up?”
There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “It’s been a long day.”
I wait to respond and see if he’s going to say any more, but he doesn’t. Picking up on the heaviness in his tone, I try to keep mine light. “Everything okay?”
After a long pause, Bailey finally speaks, his voice small. “Yeah. I guess. I… I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
“I would if I could.” Despite his voice coming through the speaker, he sounds like he’s a million miles away from me.
The pain in his voice makes my heart hurt. I don’t know what hurt him, and I might not ever, but I do know that I don’t want him to hurt. “How can I help?”
I hear rustling on the line as Bailey resituates, his voice lower and closer to the mouthpiece of the phone, cracking a little as he speaks. “Just talk to me, Palmer.”
So I do.
First, I talk about Mouse, giving a detailed play-by-play of the shenanigans she has been getting into since he left. Then, I talk about work and the kids and the drama of which teacher is mortal enemies with which.
Bailey doesn’t say much in response, just the occasional muttered question or small laugh.
Pretty soon, I’m telling him every story I can remember about my siblings and me growing up, getting into trouble, plotting, and all of the “Don’t Tell Mom” moments.
Before I realize it, hours have passed, and I’m telling Bailey my hopes and dreams.
What other degrees I want.
The vacations I want to take.
The family I want to have one day.
It’s raw and vulnerable and a little painful to talk about because just a few short weeks ago, I was with the man who I had once thought would be the person I would share those things with, but now I’m not with him and everything is so different.
“And now I’m a little worried I might never find someone to have that with, which I know is really stupid because I’m young and there’s plenty of fish in the sea, but what if they’re all actually the same fish, you know?”
There’s silence on the other end of the phone.
“Bailey?” I listen closely, but all I can hear is the sound of his deep, even breaths, the same as the ones I heard as I slept against his chest not that long ago.
A soft smile crosses my face. I’m never going to let this man live down falling asleep on the phone with me.
For now though, I let him sleep, whispering softly, “Good night, Bailey,” before hanging up the phone.
I spend the rest of the evening wondering how much he actually heard me say and wishing that I had been lying next to him when I told him all those things. As much as I know he doesn’t want to or can’t be with me, there’s a part of me that really wishes maybe he could.
Beyond the sex and teasing banter, I’m starting to like Bailey. Really like him. He’s kind and funny and vulnerable. He’s willing to open up to me and be honest, and he enjoys my company, or at least he’s good at pretending he does.
Who am I kidding?
Starting to? I already do like him. A lot.
This is all supposed to be a phase, my phase, but the thought of spending anything less than the foreseeable future with Bailey makes my stomach churn, and I know right now, in this exact moment, that this, whatever this is, is going to hurt just as much as everything with Clay did when it ends, if not more.
Probably more.
Definitely more.
* * *
I wake up the next morning to several texts from Bailey, each making me smile bigger than the last.
Bailey: Oh my god, I fell asleep while we were talking on the phone. I am SO SORRY!
Bailey: Talking with you really helped relax me after a tough day and I must’ve fallen asleep. I am the actual worst.
Bailey: I will make it up to you, I promise. If you’re free, I can call you tonight and I PROMISE I will be awake to talk to you as long as you want. Let me know what works for you and I will make it happen.
Bailey: I hope you have a great day, Palmer. I’ll talk to you later.
Palmer: It’s okay! Although this will be used as future ammo. You sounded really tired, so I completely understand. I’ll be free all evening starting at 4. Can’t wait ?
Bailey: I wouldn’t expect anything less ;) Talk to you then.
* * *
The copy machine hums as it spits out numerous copies of math packets despite the many emails we’ve received telling us not to print more than thirty copies of resources at a time.
In all fairness, I probably could have waited to print my IEP until later, but I just know if I did, the printer would be out of order.
It never fails, especially when I’ve got somewhere to be.
Several of the seventh-grade teachers are sitting in the lounge, laughing over their morning coffee. A grinding noise brings the printer to a halt, the paper jamming in the feeder.
“Oh, come on,” I mutter, then set about trying to fix the malfunction. Following the directions on the screen, I start opening and closing the various doors, clearing any blockages I can see.
As I slam the side printer door shut for the third time, despite nothing else changing, something one of the teachers mentions catches my attention.
“Wait. What did you say?” I interject.
The group turns toward me, eyebrows raised.
I quickly realize I probably should have approached that differently. “Sorry.” I shake my head. “I promise I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I just—I thought I heard you say something about a deployment?”
Mrs. Robinson, the English teacher, laughs, waving her hand dismissively. “You’re fine, Palmer! I was just surprised that you were asking about it. I didn’t know you were dating someone in the military.”
“Oh, I’m not,” I say quickly, pairing the statement with a shrug. Just sleeping with one. “I just thought it would be good to know because I figured it might impact some of our kids.”
She nods contemplatively then continues. “Yeah, it definitely would. But keep in mind that this isn’t widely advertised yet, so we need to keep it on the down low.”
“Okay.”
My answer seems to satisfy her. “So, my husband works up at Division, and he said there’s been talk of a mass deployment over to somewhere in the Middle East. He didn’t say where, but he said there’s been some things in the works, we just don’t know about it yet.
” Mrs. Robinson laughs, but the sound is hollow.
“I’m sure he actually does know, but he just won’t tell me. ”
My heart pounds against my ribs, and my stomach twists itself in knots. “You mean like Afghanistan? I thought that the US pulled out of Afghanistan a few years ago?”
“We did.” She nods, chewing on her bottom lip.
“I doubt it’s Afghanistan. Probably not Iraq, but I’m not sure.
The one thing I’ll say is this: My husband has done his twenty years.
We’ve done our fair share of deployments.
They fucking suck, but you typically know they’re coming so you can mentally prepare for them.
What I’m worried about is the fact that they’re trying to keep it quiet. ”
Thoughts swirl around my mind so quickly that I struggle to hear her. Forcing myself to breathe, I’m able to force out a single word in response. “Why?”
Her expression is grim when she responds.
“Because that’s how people die. They don’t have the information or training or plans in place, so they send in untrained soldiers to be door kickers, and people die.
” Mrs. Robinson looks up at me. “And when they die, they bring in more people to replace them just as fast, because they need bodies. If they wanted skill, they wouldn’t need large numbers. Have you seen the news?”
She’s talking about the incentives that are being rolled out to National Guard members and reservists. They’re getting the same benefits as active duty now. The room feels like it’s closing in on me, and it’s getting harder to breathe. Why hadn’t I put two and two together?
“Are you okay, Palmer?”
Taking a shaky breath, I respond, “Yeah. Just… thinking. I’ll get my paperwork later.”
I nearly run out of the lounge and back into my room. I lock the door behind me and slide down the wall, trying to calm my breathing. What if Bailey is one of the ones who deploys? What if he’s one of the ones who dies?
I know we’re not dating, but I don’t know what I’ll do if he does. I know he’s a grown man and that he knew what he was signing up for, but all I can picture is the scared little boy who just wanted to protect his mom. The angry teenager who just wanted someone to tell him it was okay to be soft.
That boy and teenager would never get the chance to grow old.
They wouldn’t get to retire.
They would never get the chance to travel the world without worrying if their next breath might be their last.
They would never get to walk Mr. Thompson down the aisle to sit as Father of the Groom.
They would never hold their own babies if that were something Bailey wanted.
They would never get the chance to make decisions that were entirely their own ever again.
Hot tears roll down my face, and my breath stutters in my chest. I don’t want to lose Bailey. Not like that. I can’t. I let myself cry, then pull out my phone to text Bailey. I want to ask him about the deployment. I want him to promise me that he won’t go, that he won’t die, but decide against it.
Besides, he doesn’t owe me that. He can’t make that promise, and it would be unfair of me to ask. Plus, he’d tell me if he was going to be going anyway.
Right?