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“What are you saying?”
He eyed me with a knowing look. “Sometimes the truth can be painful and complicated, so we cover it up with a simpler lie.”
I smirked at him. “What, are you my shrink now?”
“No,” he answered seriously despite my sarcastic tone. “Guess you could say I’m an expert at losing people. And even with those I opposed…it was painful….”
My anger died just like that. Why did I get so defensive with him? He wasn’t just talking out of his ass. He’d experienced loss too. I didn’t think past the fact that he was a veteran. I didn’t think much about what that would mean, about what it was like leading people into battle and having them not come back. Or killing someone else who has a cause just like you, albeit on different sides.
“I’m sorry,” I said, truly regretful. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
He shrugged. “After some time, they just become memories.” He glanced back at me. “And speaking of shrink, are you seeing one?”
“Nope,” I replied, trying to sound casual about it and not immediately reject the notion with every fiber of my being. “I really don’t need one. My dad died. It’s sad, but so are most things in this life. I’ll be fine. I just need to figure out what I’m going to do with my life next.”
Shit. I hadn’t meant for that last part to slip out. I didn’t know what it was about this man, but he made me babble, and when I did, all sorts of nonsense came out.
I hoped he would skip over it and move on to another topic, but no such luck. Sharp as a tack, he missed nothing. “You going to college?”
“I can’t afford it.” I gave him a tight smile. “I spent all afternoon looking at scholarships, but I’m both too poor and not poor enough for most of the financial aid offers.” I sighed. “And I’m definitely not smart enough. But it’s fine. I was never really good at school anyway, so going to college would have just been a waste of time.”
“My mother always told me that there’s no such thing as wasted knowledge,” he said, and surprisingly, his tone was completely devoid of judgment. “But it’s true that not everyone is meant for college. What do you wanna do?”
“I have no clue,” I said. “Is that weird?”
“You’ve never had a dream to be something or do something?” he asked. “Not even when you were young?”
“Well, no…” I answered. I barely dreamt, and when I did, they quickly turned into nightmares. “When I was a kid, I wanted to be an astronaut, then a ballet dancer, then a doll. So I don’t think any of those counts.”
One side of his lip kicked up. “I wanted to be a helicopter.”
I snorted at the unexpectedness of the statement. “Really?”
He nodded. “Yes. Threw a whole fit when my parents dared to inform me that children couldn’t become transports.”
“Wow,” I couldn’t imagine him as a child saying or doing anything silly. He always seemed so controlled and mature in every way. And…distinguished. As if he had life all figured out.
He shrugged. “I ended up flying a jet a few times, so that was close enough.”
“Was it hard? Doing what you do?” I asked, then realized what a stupid question it was. Of course, going to war was hard. I long suspected my father had some kind of PTSD from his time serving because who he was when he came back was a man very different from who my mother described him as. My mother always said my father was a man of good humor who was very social and kind. Not the bitter, reclusive drunk he became.
But if he had PTSD, then he absolutely refused to do anything about it. Or rather, what he did was drink and drink until he couldn’t think about it anymore, making life miserable for my mother and me.
My neighbor didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and I was scared I had offended him in some way.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Hard is relative,” he interrupted. “There was stuff that was hard about it and others that weren’t. And sometimes, it would surprise me.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“I know,” he said, but he didn’t offer any other explanation, so I took the hint.
“What’s your name, by the way?” I asked because, strangely enough, I wanted to keep the conversation going. Hell must have frozen over because I was actually enjoying talking to my neighbor. “I just realized we never introduced ourselves to each other.”
“Ezra Lawrence,” he said.
I nodded. “I’m Tillie.”
