“You make it sound almost romantic.”
“It was, in a way,” she agreed. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “But lately it’s not so romantic. Now, it’s just getting old.”
I laughed unexpectedly, then coughed and found myself reaching for a glass that wasn’t there.
She pushed back from her chair. “Let me get you some water,” she said. She filled a glass from the faucet and placed it before me. As I drank, I could feel her watching me.
“What?” I asked.
“I just can’t get over how different you look.”
“Me?” I found it hard to believe.
“Yeah, you,” she insisted. “You’re . . . older somehow.”
“I am older.”
“I know, but it’s not that. It’s your eyes. They’re . . . more serious than they used to be. Like they’ve seen things they shouldn’t have. Weary, somehow.”
To this, I said nothing, but when she saw my expression, she shook her head, looking embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have said that. I can only imagine what you’ve been through lately.”
I ate another bite of stew, thinking about her comment. “Actually I left Iraq in early 2004,” I said. “I’ve been in Germany ever since. Only a small part of the army is ever there at any one time, and we rotate through. I’ll probably end up going back, but I don’t know when. Hopefully things will have calmed down by then.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be out by now?”
“I reupped again,” I said. “There wasn’t any reason not to.”
We both knew the reason why, and she nodded. “How long now?”
“I’m in until 2007.”
“And then?”
“I’m not sure. I might stay in for a few more years. Or maybe I’ll go to college. Who knows—I might even pick up a degree in special education. I’ve heard great things about the field.”
Her smile was strangely sad, and for a while, neither of us said anything. “How long have you been married?” I asked.
She shifted in her seat. “It’ll be two years next November.”
“Were you married here?”
“As if I had a choice.” She rolled her eyes. “My mom was really into the whole perfect wedding thing. I know I’m their only daughter, but in hindsight, I would have been just as happy with something a lot smaller. A hundred guests would have been perfect.”
“You consider that small?”
“Compared with what we ended up with? Yeah. There weren’t enough seats in the church for everyone, and my dad keeps reminding me that he’ll be paying it off for years. He’s just teasing, of course. Half the guests were friends of my parents, but I guess that’s what you get when you get married in your hometown. Everyone from the mailman to the barber gets an invitation.”
“But you’re glad to be back home?”
“It’s comfortable here. My parents are close by, and I need that, especially now.”
She didn’t elaborate, content to let her comment stand. I wondered about that—and a hundred other things—as I rose from the table and brought my plate to the sink. After rinsing it, I heard her call out behind me.
“Just leave it there. I haven’t unloaded the dishwasher yet. I’ll get it later. Do you want anything else, though? My mom left a couple of pies on the counter.”
“How about a glass of milk?” I said. As she started to rise, I added, “I can get it. Just point me to the glasses.”
“In the cupboard by the sink.”
I pulled a glass from the shelf and went to the refrigerator. Milk was on the top shelf; on the shelves below were at least a dozen Tupperware containers filled with food. I poured a glass and returned to the table.
“What’s going on, Savannah?”
With my words, she came back to me. “What do you mean?”
“Your husband,” I said.
“What about him?”
“When can I meet him?”
Instead of answering, Savannah rose from the table with her wineglass. She poured the remains into the sink, then retrieved a coffee cup and a box of tea.
“You’ve already met him,” she said, turning around. She squared her shoulders. “It’s Tim.”
I could hear the spoon tapping against the cup as Savannah sat across from me again.
“How much of this do you want to hear?” she murmured, staring into her teacup.
“All of it,” I said. I leaned back in my chair. “Or none of it. I’m not sure yet.”
She snorted. “I guess that makes sense.”
I brought my hands together. “When did it start?”