Undeclared(44)

She smiled. “Lecher? That’s very 1800s of you, Mr. Jackson.” My new tactic seemed to be paying off. Grace was flirting with me. I returned her smile with one of my own.

“Punk didn’t seem to break through for you so I’m trying different descriptive terms until I find one that sticks.”

“I like ‘lecher,’” she said, holding her hands behind her back. “It’s got a certain resonance. Do you really have clothes to drop off?”

“Nah,” I said. “I’ll bring those in the morning. I just wanted to make sure Mike got my message.”

“What message was that?” she asked with what sounded like a little giddiness in her voice. She might protest that we were just friends, but I was starting to think she liked my show of possessiveness. I’d try to keep to only small doses until I built up her tolerance for me.

“That if you need company on your way home, it’ll be me,” I said firmly. It wasn’t exactly like I was peeing on her leg, but kind of. While she was going off this weekend without me, I felt like we were turning a corner to someplace better. Hopefully a place that had a bed and lots of nudity.





Chapter Nine





Dear Grace,

I think what you feel on my letters is dust. I’m bummed that it is on my letters to you. They say it’s sand, but it’s finer than that. It’s like the particles that make up the sand, and it is everywhere. When you get home on leave and wash for the first time, you have to stand under the water for at least twenty minutes, all the while watching the black dust collect and pool at your feet, creating coffee-colored water that swirls down the drain.

I don’t think you can ever fully erase the dust from your belongings. It sticks with you no matter how long you let the water wash over you or how many times you wipe it away. Like the tension I have in being weaponless and exposed back home, the dust is one of the many things I’ll carry with me when I’m out.

I’m sorry that it is invading your space now through my letters. It’s like I’m spreading a contaminant. Am I Patient Zero, or are you?

I probably shouldn’t have volunteered for a third tour, but combat pay is hard to turn down. After three years here, though, I feel like I am a loosely contained conglomerate of those particles of dust.

Yours,

Noah


Grace

I got a text that my ride would arrive in fifteen minutes. I rushed around and threw together a change of clothing and toiletries, which I stuffed into a backpack that wasn’t full of my camera equipment. I then pulled on a pair of jeans, flats, and my State T-shirt. Over that, I wore a State replica jersey that had my brother’s name and number ironed on the back. I wrote a quick note for Lana:

Off to see Josh play today. Won’t be back until tomorrow. ~ G

My ride was a couple. They had agreed to drive me in exchange for tickets to the game. I wasn’t sure if they were Josh’s tickets or someone else’s. The girl told me she was hung over and planned to sleep the entire ride, which sounded like a pretty awesome plan to me. Alone in the back seat, I closed my eyes and was out before the car even left the city limits.

Once we got there, they dropped me off at the gate and went to park.

Not a skin suit yet, I texted impulsively to Noah. I almost wished I had taken him up on his invitation to come with me.

I received an immediate response. They could be saving their gruesome acts until the ride home.

I took a picture of their license plate. You know what to do if I don’t show up at the library on Sunday. I sent Noah the picture I had taken.

Don’t mock me. Rather have a pic of you.

Like Lana, I had my own body insecurities and preferred to be on the other side of the camera. The lens side.

Can’t. Never learned how to take selfie.

Noah replied with a picture of Finn and Bo wrestling a keg into place in what must be Noah’s backyard. Party won’t be good without you.

Are you camera shy too?

Nah, just withholding the good stuff ‘til I see you.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder?

If that’s true, I expect a really warm welcome when you get back tomorrow.

We were flirting. Even a dunderhead like me could pick that up. Giddiness spread through my body, and, while I missed Noah, I realized that I needed this. This small separation reminded me of what it was like when Noah had sent me that Dear Jane letter telling me we should just be friends. I remembered how empty I had felt after that letter, an emptiness that Noah filled when I saw him again on campus. It was easy to be prickly within his steady presence, but now that we were away once more, I realized how much I wanted to be with him.

When I got back, it would be no more games. I would tell him straight out how much he hurt me, how much I wanted him, and how scared I was. Then the ball would be in his court.