Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
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.