“Yeah,” she said. I waited.
“I suppose you could sleep with me,” she ventured.
I waited while she continued her own internal debate. Finally she shrugged. “You want to give it a try? Just sleeping, I mean?”
“Whatever you say.”
For the first time, her shoulders relaxed. “Okay, then. We’ve got that settled. Just give me a minute to change.”
She rose from the bed, crossed the room, and opened a drawer. The pajamas she chose were similar to the ones she’d worn at her parents’, and I left her to go back to the living room, where I slipped on some of my workout shorts and a T-shirt. By the time I returned, she was already under the covers. I went to the other side and crawled in beside her. She shuffled the covers before turning out the light, then lay on her back, staring toward the ceiling. I lay on my side, facing her.
“Good night,” she whispered.
“Good night.”
I knew I wouldn’t sleep. Not for a while, anyway. I was too . . . worked up for that. But I didn’t want to toss and turn, in case she could.
“Hey,” she finally whispered again.
“Yes?”
She rolled over to face me. “I just want you to know this is my first time that I’ve ever slept with a man. All night, I mean. That’s a step closer, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s a step closer.”
She brushed my arm. “And now if anyone asks, you’ll be able to tell them that we’ve slept together.”
“True,” I said.
“But you won’t tell anyone, will you? I mean, I don’t want to get a reputation, you know.”
I stifled a laugh. “I’ll keep it our little secret.”
The next few days fell into an easy, relaxing pattern. Savannah had classes in the morning and usually finished up a little after lunch. Theoretically, I suppose it gave me the opportunity to sleep in—something that all army recruits dream about when they talk about going on leave—but years of rising before dawn was a habit impossible to break. Instead, I woke before she did and would start a pot of coffee before trotting down to the corner to pick up the newspaper. Occasionally, I grabbed a couple of bagels or croissants; other times, we simply had cereal at the house, and it was easy to view our little routine as a preview of the first years of our future life together, effortless bliss that was almost too good to be true.
Or, at least, I tried to convince myself of that. When we stayed with her parents, Savannah was exactly the girl I remembered. Same thing on our first night alone. But after that . . . I began to notice differences. I guess I hadn’t fully realized that she was living a life that seemed complete and fulfilling, even without me. The calendar she kept on the refrigerator door listed something to do almost every day: concerts, lectures, half a dozen parties for various friends. Tim, I noted, was penciled in for the occasional lunch as well. She was taking four classes and teaching another as a graduate assistant, and on Thursday afternoons, she worked with a professor on a case study, one she was sure would be published. Her life was exactly the way she’d described it in her letters, and when she returned to the apartment, she’d tell me about her day while she made herself something to eat in the kitchen. She loved the work she was doing, and the pride in her tone was evident. She would talk animatedly while I listened, and I asked just enough questions to keep the flow of conversation going.
Nothing unusual in that, I admitted. I knew enough to realize that it would have been a bigger problem if she’d said nothing about her day at all. But with every new story, I’d get this sinking feeling, one that made me think that as much as we’d kept in touch, as much as we cared about each other, she’d somehow zigged while I had zagged. Since I’d last seen her, she’d completed her degree, tossed her cap into the air at commencement, found work as a graduate assistant, and moved into, and furnished, her own apartment. Her life had entered a new phase, and while I suppose it was possible to say the same thing about me, the simple fact was that nothing much had changed on my end, unless you counted the fact that I now knew how to assemble and disassemble eight types of weapons instead of six and I’d increased my bench press by another thirty pounds. And, of course, I’d done my part in giving the Russians something to think about if they were debating whether or not to invade Germany with dozens of mechanized divisions.
Don’t get me wrong. I was still head over heels for Savannah, and there were times when I still sensed the strength of her feelings for me. Lots of times, in fact. For the most part, it was a wonderful week. While she was gone, I’d walk the campus or jog around the sky blue track near the field house, taking advantage of some much needed downtime. Within a day I’d found a gym that would allow me to work out for the time I was there, and because I was in the service, they didn’t even charge me. I’d usually be finished working out and showering by the time Savannah got back to the apartment, and we’d spend the rest of the afternoon together. On Tuesday night, we joined a group of her classmates for dinner in downtown Chapel Hill. It was more fun than I’d thought it would be, especially considering I was hanging out with a bunch of summer school eggheads and most of the conversation centered on the psychology of adolescents. On Wednesday afternoon, Savannah gave me a tour of her classes and introduced me to her professors. Later that afternoon, we met up with a couple of people I’d been introduced to the night before. That evening, we picked up some Chinese food and sat at the table in her apartment. She was wearing one of those strappy tank tops that accentuated her tan, and all I could think was that she was the sexiest woman I’d ever seen.