“I don’t think the army would let me off for your parents’ anniversary,” Zane says, sitting down on the grass. I hesitate for a moment and decide to join him.
“I had the vacation time banked,” I explain, “and besides which, it’s better for me to take the time now than later.”
“Why’s that? Vacation’s vacation, isn’t it?”
“Not always,” I say, grinning wryly. “In the publishing industry, at least… well, I guess for any job, there are better times and worse times.”
“Military’s not that different,” Zane says. “Ask for leave during certain times of year and unless you’ve stayed on duty for over a year, you’re probably not going to get it granted.”
“Makes sense,” I say. “I was kind of surprised that you got leave at all.”
“It’s slow right now,” Zane says. “Not a lot going on and I had leave coming.”
“When was the last time you were in town?” I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them.
“I got a couple of days during Christmas,” Zane says. I nod.
“I must have just missed you.”
“Yeah, I think I remember your parents saying that you were about to come into town, that you’d had some kind of deadline, but that was right before I had to be back at base,” Zane agrees.
“Seems like that’s been happening a lot,” I observe. “It’s been what, like three, four years?”
“Almost five, I think,” Zane replies. “I shipped out for basic about a year after high school.”
“That’s right!” I think about it for a minute or two. “Kind of weird that in all that time we kept missing each other.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Zane shakes his head. “So, what’s your life really like, up there in the big city?”
I laugh. “It’s a lot like life here, actually,” I tell him. “Except, you know, a bigger chance of someone in my building getting robbed.” I pick a blade of grass and play with it between my fingers. “What’s the army like?”
“Pretty much what I thought it would be like,” Zane says after a moment. “I’ve made my way up the ranks a bit. I’m a specialist now, got my certification last year.”
“Making bank?” I grin at him.
Zane rolls his eyes. “Making more than I was making before,” he says. “But if it weren’t for accommodations on base and food at the mess hall, I’d be just about breaking even. What about you?”
“I’m making enough to stay afloat in Brooklyn, which is saying something,” I tell him with a grin. “But supposedly the publishing company I’m working for is underpaying me a bit for my skills.”
“What makes you say that?”
I shrug. “One of my friends who works for another publisher, doing mostly the same thing I’m doing, is making about three thousand a year more than me.”
“Oof, that sucks,” Zane says. “Any chance to talk them into bumping you up?”
I think about that. There’s a possibility that I might be able to talk the publisher I work for into upping my pay, but I’ll have to wait for that, at least for another couple of months. Once the big project is over, I’ll be in a position to ask for almost anything I want, as long as I do a good job at it.
“Maybe,” I tell him. “In the next couple of months, but not right now.”
We chat like that for a while, and it feels weird, but at the same time it actually kind of feels nice. I think about the different conversations that Zane and I have had over the years, before we parted ways, right in that same spot.
By the time I’m walking back to my house, yawning because it’s almost one in the morning, I think to myself that it was worth the little bit of grief I got at the office for asking for an entire week off.
I walk back to my room and turn down the sheets in my bed, exhausted. I know Mom and Dad will have me up early, helping the Lewises get ready for the first big party of their anniversary blowout.
As I drift off, I think to myself that my mom wasn’t all that wrong about Zane.
CHAPTER FOUR
ZANE LEWIS
As I get to the bottom of the stairs that morning, I can smell the eggs, bacon and coffee in the kitchen. I went to bed the night before after talking to Harper without even thinking about the leftover pot roast Mom had told me about, so I woke up starving.
Dad’s sitting at the table, and Mom’s taking something out of the oven as I walk into the kitchen.
“Just in time, as always,” Dad says with a smile.