meant everything is rarely easy.
   It should make her nervous. Sad.
   But why is she scared—really
   scared? That makes me scared, too.
   I AM OVER THE PACIFIC
   Halfway to Hawaii, eyes closed
   and headphones fighting the noise
   of crying babies with country music
   when I remember something Dar
   said the last time we played What If?
   What if Cole got drunk and hit you?
   I let it go. Why didn’t I pursue
   it? Was she talking about Spencer?
   Is that what she’s so afraid of?
   That he’ll plunge right off the deep
   end? But she’d tell me that, right?
   Yeah, sure. Of course I would.
   Especially with Spence coming
   home. She wouldn’t face him
   alone if that was really a concern.
   Would she? God, I want to talk
   to Cole about this. Ask his opinion.
   I want you to promise me
   you won’t say anything to Cole.
   I promised I wouldn’t mention
   it to Cole. But I never said I’d keep
   quiet about it period. When I get back,
   I’ll call someone on base. A counselor.
   Or chaplain. Someone who can help.
   Rewind
   SPRING BREAK 2008
   Cole had been back from Iraq
   for several weeks. He had fifteen
   days of leave, and his request
   to take it when we could spend
   uninterrupted time together
   had been granted. He went
   home to Wyoming his first week,
   saved the second for me. The day
   I picked him up at the airport
   was crazy. First, I couldn’t decide
   what to wear. I swear, I tried on
   eight different outfits, hated
   everything the mirror showed
   me—too slutty, too old lady,
   too college student in need
   of new clothes. I finally settled
   on a turquoise sundress that
   showed off my legs and just
   enough cleavage to be tempting
   without shouting, “Hey, check
   out these babies!” Then I had
   to shave my legs. It had been
   weeks. Not like I cared most
   of the time, and mostly I wore
   jeans. Then I needed makeup—
   not too little, not too much, and
   how did that smoky-eyes thing
   go again? Everything took way
   too long, and when I finally felt
   ready and glanced at the clock,
   I was already running late. Traffic
   was heavy, and when it opened
   up, I drove like a maniac. It didn’t
   go unnoticed by a particular California
   Highway Patrolman. Shit. Shit. Shit.
   By the time he reached my window,
   I was crying mascara and plum
   eye shadow down my pretty blushed
   cheeks. Apparently, he’d never
   brought a driver to tears before.
   Excuse me, miss. But may I see
   your license and registration? Please?
   And could you please stop sniffling?
   Uh, is something wrong? Besides me?
   Why not use it? It was the truth,
   after all. “My boyfriend is just
   back from Iraq and I’m supposed
   to pick him up at the airport, and
   I’m late and traffic, and now this . . .”
   He let me off with a stern warning,
   and I might have felt really good
   about that, except now what the mirror
   revealed was a total hag. I cried
   most of the way to baggage claim.
   AT LEAST
   By the time I spotted Cole, I had
   cried off most of the makeup. That
   turned out to be a good thing, because
   seeing him only made me cry more.
   I ran into his arms, which were even
   stronger than I remembered. He lifted
   me off the ground, spun me around.
   Brought my face right up into his
   and I swear, despite my streaked
   puffy eyes, the first thing he said
   was, Goddamn, you’re beautiful. And
   then we were kissing, and we kissed
   without stopping until we really
   couldn’t find air, and I was glad
   he was wearing his uniform because
   at least then everyone waiting for
   suitcases didn’t think we were just
   plain horny or something. In fact,
   they clapped and one old guy
   whistled. “Careful,” I whispered.
   “I think he just saw my panties.”
   Cole tugged down my skirt in back
   and we laughed and kissed until
   his duffle came rolling around.
   We walked to the car, velcroed
   together. He reached for the keys.
   Let me drive? I slid into the passenger
   seat, studied him as he exited
   the parking lot, made his way
   to the freeway, merged into traffic.
   His hair was freshly cut, grunt-style.
   The ruddy tan of his steel-jawed face
   made the gold of his eyes even more
   striking. He punched the gas pedal,
   and we were flying. “Careful. There’s
   a CHP out here somewhere who’s
   already a ticket short today.” I told
   him about my earlier encounter
   without mentioning the makeup
   problem. Cole just smiled.
   Don’t worry. He can’t see us.
   Nobody can. We’re invisible.
   Maybe we were, because despite
   hitting close to a hundred miles
   per hour, no one stopped us.
   No one even seemed to notice
   us. We made it to the apartment
   in world-record time, at least for
   a beater car like mine. Tomorrow
   we’ll go by Uncle Jack’s and get
   the truck. It could use a little blowing
   out, I bet, Cole said, pulling into
   my parking place. Less than five
   minutes after turning off the ignition,
   we were in the bedroom, getting
   ready to make new memories.
   AFTER ALL THAT HURRYING
   Cole actually slowed us down.
   He stopped me just inside the door.
   Stay right there, where I can look
   at you. He sat on the bed, unlaced
   his boots, unbuttoned his shirt.
   His eyes never strayed from me
   once. Take off your dress. Slowly.
   It’s been a long time. I want to savor
   every second. He watched as I slid
   the sundress up over my head.
   Very slowly. Working the tease
   as if I had a real clue what to do.
   I stood there, in nothing but
   my prettiest pair of thong panties.
   Turn around. Easy. Not too fast.
   Now, come here. I floated toward him,
   and when I got close to the bed,
   paused. He reached out. Touched
   my breasts with hands much too
   gentle for their size. Then they slid
   around my back, coaxed me forward,
   and his lips circled my right areola,
   sucked it like a baby might. Hungry.
   He sat me on his lap, his incredible
   erection straining against his pants,
   pushing his zipper into the thin strip
   of cloth covering my crotch. “Cole,”
   I exhaled. “God, baby, I need you.”
					     					 			br />   The statement was truth, and felt
   that way. He sighed, laid back against
   the quilt, loosened the closures on
   his camos. I kissed his eyes, his mouth,
   his neck, down his chest to granite
   hard penis, urged it into my mouth.
   I am no expert, but did all I could
   to bring him all the way off. He came
   very close, but stopped short. No.
   I jerked off this morning, twice in fact,
   thinking about you and what we’d do.
   Does that make you pissed? It shouldn’t.
   I did it for you, because I want you to
   come before I do. Twice, in fact. He smiled.
   Took total control. And he made me
   come before he did. More than twice.
   FOR THE NEXT WEEK
   We had sex three or four times
   a day. Halfway through, my body
   ached, but I couldn’t say no.
   Cole bordered on desperate.
   When I go back, I’ll just have
   morning wood and my fist. I want
   to fuck you till I’m black and blue.
   I need to remember you. This.
   Pretty sure it was me who wore
   bruises. His muscles were concrete,
   and he gripped my arms as if he
   let go, I might try to escape. Not mean.
   Just determined. His eyes never
   left my face as he chanted, That’s
   my girl. My beautiful, beautiful Ash.
   It was cadence. Beautiful. Beautiful.
   Ash. I loved listening to his voice.
   After a while, orgasm was the last
   thing on my mind, but the rhythm
   of his voice kept me going. That, and
   knowing our time together grew ever
   shorter. When we weren’t in bed,
   we walked the beach. Watched
   movies. Ate. Drank. Laughed. Held
   hands as we talked, trying to learn
   all we could about each other before
   he was called back to work. To duty.
   WE DID PICK UP
   Cole’s truck from his uncle Jack,
   who had stored it under a metal
   roof in his backyard. It was dusty,
   and the tires were low, but it started
   right up once Cole reconnected
   the battery cables. I didn’t realize
   how much Cole loved that truck—
   a 2006 Chevy Avalanche with a big
   V-8. This puppy screams, he said,
   proving it as we headed east toward
   Palm Springs one morning. At least,
   that’s where I thought we were going.
   Instead, where the highway split,
   he drove north toward Twenty-Nine
   Palms. We’re going to train here.
   I want to see it, and I want you to see
   it, too. The Marine Corps Air Ground
   Combat Center is a huge stretch
   of yucca-and-cactus–studded sand,
   where they train soldiers in the ways
   of desert warfare. It is stark. Cursed.
   Dry-Sahara in summer, dry-tundra in
   winter. But, for a small, magical
   window in spring, wildflowers paint
   the landscape purple and poppy
   and raspberry pink, clear to the far
   horizons. It steals your breath away.
   And that day, Cole and I drew
   the lucky card that brought us
   there at that perfect time of the year.
   RATHER THAN INVESTIGATE
   The base proper, Cole turned
   off on a dirt track that plunged
   us into all that frail beauty.
   He barely slowed, fishtailing
   the truck, scaring up bunnies
   and flushing quail. “Hey, take
   it easy. I’d like to make it out
   of here all in one piece.”
   He backed off the gas, just a little.
   What? You don’t trust my driving?
   I rested my hand on his thigh.
   “I trust everything about you. But
   it’s so pretty out here, I’d like to enjoy
   the view. Hard to do when you’re
   raising such a big cloud of dust!”
   It was behind us, and that made him
   laugh. You’re looking the wrong way!
   But he did slow down and, in fact,
   drifted to a stop, letting the Avalanche
   idle and said dust catch up to us.
   Once it settled, he opened his window.
   It is pretty out here, isn’t it? Empty
   of people, just the way I like it.
   A muted ka-boom of artillery
   reverberated off faraway hills,
   echoed back across the valley.
   “Guess we’re not so alone out
   here after all.” An afternoon
   training session must have
   begun, because more reports
   followed. Definitely not alone.
   We listened to the rise and fall
   of munitions fire for a few minutes.
   “Is that what war sounds like?”
   Not the war I was in. Regret
   inflected his voice. Damn. Look
   at the size of that critter! Wish
   I had my rifle. It was a huge
   jackrabbit, with ears half as long
   as my arms and almost as wide.
   It sniffed its way out of the brush,
   stopped in front of the truck
   and froze right there, staring
   through the window with piebald
   eyes. Unafraid. Curious, even, like
   it wanted to know more about us.
   “You wouldn’t really shoot it?”
   Hell yeah, I would. Desert’s overrun
   with the damn vermin. They ain’t
   worth a shit, except in the stew pot.
   A weird smile crept across his face.
   Let’s have a little fun. What do you say?
   HE DIDN’T WAIT
   For me to answer. Before I could
   even consider what might come
   next, he put the truck in gear.
   Punched it. By the time the rabbit
   realized squashation was imminent
   and reacted, it ran straight on up
   the road. Big mistake. Jackrabbits
   are quick. V-8s are powerful.
   Faster than small mammals.
   The rabbit feinted right. Cole
   followed. Left-right. Veer-veer.
   That would have been one dead
   animal except it got lucky.
   Goddamn little bastard! Cole
   yelled at the rearview mirror.
   The Avalanche had good clearance
   and went right over the top of
   the petrified bunny. Had the tires
   hit it, Taps. By the time Cole got
   the truck turned around, Mr. Rabbit
   had taken refuge in a hole somewhere.
   Cole was pissed. Hope I scared
   it to death, anyway. I didn’t say
   a word all the way to Palm Springs.
   BY THE TIME
   We got there, I had mostly convinced
   myself that Cole had just been messing
   around. Having, as he said, a little fun.
   He didn’t really want to run over a poor,
   defenseless rabbit. He didn’t mention
   it and I never brought it up to him again.
   We checked in to a nice hotel with
   a jetted tub in the bathroom and two
   pools outside—one hot water, one cool.
   I thought it must be very expensive
   but Cole said not to worry about it.
   What else was he saving up his money
   for? We had a fabulous dinner
   at a pricey French bistro. Neither of us
  
					     					 			  ordered the lapin. Just seeing rabbit
   on the menu made me cringe. Cole had
   the venison medallions. I chose a nice
   vegetable ragout. Chocolate soufflé
   for dessert. And cognac. Lots of cognac.
   By the time we stumbled back into our room,
   took a hot (hot!) bath together, and fell
   into bed, I did not dream at all. Especially not
   about wildflowers, jackrabbits, or artillery fire.
   SAYING GOOD-BYE
   That time wasn’t too difficult.
   I knew I’d see him again when
   his battalion came to California
   for pre-deployment training
   at Twenty-Nine Palms. Plus,
   he’d get leave again before
   they sent him back overseas.
   Best of all, we planned a summer
   trip to Hawaii for me. It would be
   my first time visiting the islands
   and Cole would have his off-duty
   hours to spend with me. With only
   a couple of months until school
   was out, I didn’t think I’d miss
   Cole nearly as much as proved
   to be the case. Because that man
   had insinuated himself totally
   into my life, under my skin. Our
   last night together before he had
   to return to base was amazing.
   He knew exactly what to do, how
   fast—or slow—to do it for maximum
   effect. He made it all about me.
   Called me beautiful, and made
   me believe it. Whispered, I love
   you. I need you. Always will. I want
   to eat you. Drink you. Breathe you
   in. And he did. Again and again.
   OH, TO BREATHE YOU
   In the middle of the frozen
   night, to inhale the warmth
   of you, exhale the fear of you,
   no longer in my life.
   A drift
   of perfume lifting
   off the silk of your skin,
   a waking mist
   of heaven.
   Drink it in. Drink it in.
   I never understood
   the desire for eternity before.
   But then you appeared,
   midst
   the chaos of my youth,
   taught me how to love
   when I swore I never would
   again, extinguished
   the coals
   of desperation singeing
   me inside, branding me
   untouchable. Unsalvageable.
   I am exiled to the wilderness
   of hell
   no longer, because of you.
   You give forever meaning.
   Cole Gleason