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Luke
We’d pulled into the Cucciolos’ driveway, and Cassie had walked up in her jean shorts and unlaced Converses, with her hair falling out all over the place, her eyes on Frankie. She’d looked different from the woman I’d met behind the bar, the woman who knew exactly what she was doing and fuck you if you didn’t like it. She reminded me of a photo of her I’d seen on Frankie’s wall the other night, a little girl in a watermelon swimsuit, building sand castles. She was saying something like two thousand dollars extra a month, and at the mention of money, I couldn’t help it. I stayed next to the garage door and listened.
I still didn’t know how I was going to pay Johnno five thousand dollars in three months, and I was losing time. I had considered a loan from the bank, appealing to their patriotism by pretending I needed it to put a down payment on a house. Help a poor soldier out. Hell, I’d pretend I was married for that one thousand dollars extra a month.
I started running after her after she turned out of the driveway, toward a little playground down the street. Her words struck a note. After detoxing, it took me months to find a minimum-wage job with regular hours. Even then, it wasn’t enough to cover a life. It was half of why I enlisted. I had two years’ tuition to repay. And now I had Johnno to consider. When I caught up with Cassie, she was wiping her face, her shoulders hunched, about to get in her beat-up white Subaru.
“Hey!”
She kept her head down, bringing out her keys with one hand. With the other, she lifted a middle finger. She must have thought I was catcalling her.
I started over. “Er—excuse me, Cassie?”
She saw me approaching, narrowed her eyes, recognizing my face. “Oh, hi.”
I put a hand on my chest. “Luke.”
She draped her tattooed arms on her door. “Yeah.” She looked me up and down, pausing at my broken face. “Did you run here?”
I nodded. “I wanted to say, uh—” I stopped. Now that I was able to see her face more clearly, I noticed she’d been crying. “I’m sorry for what happened the other night. At the bar.”
“Thanks,” she said, and glanced at her keys.
I took stock. Why had I come? Her plan. A wedding.
Frankie was focusing on the risks, the alternatives. He wasn’t considering the benefits at all. I guess one thousand dollars meant very little to someone whose parents would pay his way through law school, whose family home was worth seven figures. It wasn’t like Frankie couldn’t be compassionate, but until you’ve wondered how you’re going to feed yourself, there’s a wall between you and everyone who does have to worry about that.
I’m still on the other side of that wall, and apparently I wasn’t alone.
“Well,” she said, sniffing, trying to wipe away the traces of tears still left. “Bye. Enjoy building roads and saving lives.”
“I also wanted to ask you more about your proposal,” I said quickly. “The one you just made. To Frankie.”
She stared at the ground, scrunching her face. “You heard that?”
“Kind of.”
She looked everywhere but at me. “It was crazy. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She sighed.
“But it’s actually a thing?”
“It says so right here in your beautiful little propaganda booklet.” She handed me an army brochure.
“?‘Propaganda’ is a bit dramatic,” I muttered, shaking my head at the stock photos. I couldn’t help myself. “This is about as harmless as IKEA furniture instructions.”
“IKEA instructions aren’t harmless,” she deadpanned. I looked up. “It’s well known that the little stick-figure guy is a socialist.”
I found myself smiling. “Ha ha.”
I paged through it, focusing on the spousal benefits sections. With every mention of money, I saw myself writing my signature on a check. I saw the taillights of Johnno’s Bronco fading, never to be seen again. And then Jake, laughing next to me on the couch while we watched the Cowboys. My dad sinking into a chair beside us, the hint of a smile, proud. I swallowed, then handed it back to her, noticing for a moment how the sun made her eyes spark gold. “This is a genius idea.”
“You think so?”
“If you could find the right person, yeah.” There it was again, my signature. Good-bye, Johnno.
We stood in silence. My heart pounded. Finally, she gestured at me. “Are you recommending yourself, or are you just making vague, positive statements?”
Before I could think, I pushed out the words. “I think I am.”
