Collateral

  if his platoon sergeant was so inclined.

  We didn’t know for sure if or when it

  would happen, and anticipation built

  to an insane degree. Cole could

  use his cell phone only on Fridays,

  after training. I’d wait breathlessly

  until I got a definitive yea or nay.

  Even then, there were restrictions.

  Luckily, Uncle Jack lived within

  the prescribed radius and also had

  a daughter cute enough to lure

  Cole’s “battle buddies.” SOI

  infantrymen did not leave base

  alone. The Corps believes in

  chaperones. We did manage some

  alone time, though. Sex, ever better,

  was my reward for patience, and

  “liberty” for Cole meant plummeting

  toward commitment for me.

  SCHOOL OF INFANTRY

  Lasted not quite two months.

  By the time Cole’s graduation

  loomed, I was over-the-top in love

  with him. My own schoolwork

  suffered more than a little, not so

  much because of time spent with him,

  as because of too much time

  fantasizing about being with him.

  Daydreams are distracting. Then

  came the very real threat of

  losing him. As commencement

  day marched ever closer, anxiety

  took seed. Sprouted. Grew like

  the spring weeds outside my door.

  I didn’t eat much. Food had no taste.

  My brain fought sleep and when

  exhaustion forced it, desolation

  framed my dreams. And snapshots

  of war. I couldn’t get past those

  images. They were everywhere—

  television, magazines, the Internet.

  Finally, I went to a counselor

  who sent me to a therapist, who

  prescribed tiny pills that allowed

  me some measure of deep night

  respite. Non-narcotic, he promised.

  Then he amended, But could cause

  dependency. I still depend on

  them to silence the nightmares.

  My body has learned to work in sync

  with them, sleeping straight

  through the night, waking on time

  and mostly refreshed. But those

  first weeks, Ativan fogged

  every morning. The alarm couldn’t

  fight the daze. I ended up missing

  my morning classes, and as

  someone who had always been

  in complete control of my life

  up until then, I felt like a puzzle

  that couldn’t be solved because

  pieces were misplaced. But then

  would come Cole’s Friday call,

  and all those pieces started to fall

  right into place, except for the most

  important ones around the edges,

  the ones that completed the puzzle.

  Those appeared when Cole did.

  COLLEGE

  Wasn’t working out much better

  for Darian, not that she saw Spence

  much more than I saw Cole. And

  not that she worried any more

  about him, either. In fact, she slept

  fine, sans medication. Her problem

  was lack of motivation. The only thing

  I’m good at is singing, she said. So why

  bust my butt, working for grades?

  The only classes she kept up with

  were music and screenwriting.

  Spence’s MCT school was only

  four weeks, no liberty the first two.

  By the third, he and Dar were in

  regular heat for each other. They

  had only a few hours together,

  but made the best of it at Uncle

  Jack’s. The fourth week, Spence

  was allowed overnight liberty, and

  partway through their all-night love

  fest, they began making wedding

  plans. After his MCT graduation,

  Spence’s MOS training would continue

  at Pendleton. He wanted a wife

  before any chance at deployment.

  And Darian wanted a husband.

  Spence received special liberty

  to walk down the aisle. Cole

  was granted it, too, to serve as best

  man, opposite my maid of honor.

  The wedding night was incredible,

  at least for Cole and me, who had

  our own honeymoon suite right

  on the beach, waves serenading

  us as we made love. It was our

  first time alone with no pressure

  to hurry since those first days

  after we met. We were starved

  for each other, barely through

  the door before tux and dress

  fell to the floor in an inelegant

  heap. There was nothing elegant

  about what came next, either.

  It was desperation, made flesh.

  He picked me up with steel-

  muscled arms, kissed me, bit

  me, licked me. Tried, it seemed,

  to swallow me. And I screamed

  for him to climb inside me and

  he did, with his lips and tongue

  and fingers—one, two, three.

  And then he filled me up with fire

  and stone and when he poured

  into me, I cried. Because I knew.

  I KNEW

  That would be our last night

  to join in such a way before

  the Marine Corps ordered him

  to a place where touch would not

  be possible. Unfair, when I had

  just tapped into this wellspring,

  need I never knew I thirsted for.

  Unfair, to strip me of him, just

  when I realized he was intrinsic

  to the “me” I’d become. Who would

  I be when he was gone? Later,

  I would realize that distance was not

  at the heart of my pain. It was time,

  dissipated. Vanished into the ether.

  Moments lost cannot be resurrected.

  But, whether or not I knew the reason,

  I ached for him, for us, though he held

  me in his arms. When I confessed

  my fear and he made love to me

  the second time, it was tender, driven

  by tears. And he whispered into my ear,

  my hair, the plush skin of my breasts,

  my belly, my thighs: Don’t be sad, Ash.

  As long as you want me, I will always

  come back to you. And, no matter where

  I am, you will be the first I think of every

  morning, and this will be the last thing

  I remember as I fall asleep each night.

  ROUND THREE

  Was the best one of all.

  Something to remember,

  for sure. For him. And me.

  Exhausted, but not close

  to satiated, we poured

  memories into the predawn

  hours, enough to last

  for the long months apart

  dangling on the near horizon.

  Afterward, he held me

  so tightly I could barely

  breathe. But when he mumbled,

  I love you, Ash, I could have

  happily suffocated right there

  in his arms. It was the first time

  he’d said it. I half-suspected

  he was delirious, wasn’t sure

  I believed him. Nor was I certain

  he heard me when I dared

  admit out loud, “I love you,

  too.” I’d never uttered those

  words, to him or anyon
e. But

  I realized, just as I nodded

  off, how very much I meant it.

  LOVE CAN COMPLETE YOU

  It can also destroy you. The day Cole

  graduated SOI, love annihilated me.

  By then, I was helplessly, ridiculously,

  out of my mind crazy about him. And

  they gave us exactly fifteen minutes

  to say good-bye before loading him up

  to send him off to his permanent duty

  station on Oahu. I don’t know why they

  call PDSs “permanent.” “Regular” is more

  accurate, at least until the brass deploys

  their grunts elsewhere. Cole would have

  four months in Hawaii before heading to

  Iraq. San Diego felt a million miles away,

  and as summer closed its fists around

  spring, I felt the squeeze. Finals were

  a nightmare. Despite the vastness between

  Cole and me, I was every bit as distracted

  as when he was “spitting distance,” to borrow

  a Wyoming colloquialism. Later, when

  my parents wanted to know what happened

  to that semester, I told them I was sick,

  which wasn’t a total lie. I was heartsick.

  I DID GET REGULAR CALLS

  They always started pretty much

  like this: Hey, sweetheart.

  What’s up in the real world?

  And, since I always answered,

  “Not much going on here. What’s

  happening in your world?”

  I got a regular rundown

  about barracks cleaning

  and physical training before

  the poet in Cole started talking

  about, The perfume of plumeria,

  fighting the scent of sweat

  in the air, or how, The ocean’s

  singing reminds me of our last

  night together. Remember?

  How could I possibly forget?

  And that made me even

  hungrier to see him or touch

  him or taste him. His voice was not

  nearly enough, so I’d go get his shirt

  and bury my face in it until time was up

  and he had to tell me, Good-bye. Love

  you. And, I’m in need of some serious

  Ash time. Before long, our mantra.

  ALL SIGNS POINTED

  To Spencer being assigned a local

  PDS. He had requested Pendleton,

  which is home to several helicopter

  squadrons. With that likely, he put

  in for on-base housing, knowing

  it would take a while for approval.

  Meanwhile, his housing allowance

  would pay for the off-base apartment

  he could come home to after completing

  training. With SDSU out for summer

  break, I packed up my stuff, left Darian

  in San Diego, and went home.

  Despite my growing feelings for Cole,

  I hadn’t mentioned him to my parents.

  I had a pretty good idea of how they

  would react, especially Mom. The only

  thing that surprised me was how calm

  she remained when we sat down to dinner

  my first night back and the conversation

  almost immediately went to if and who

  I was dating. At that point, lying seemed

  ridiculous, so I admitted, “Actually, I am

  seeing someone. And it’s kind of serious.”

  All silverware action came to a halt.

  Why didn’t you mention it? asked

  Dad. Is he, like, twice your age?

  I smiled. “Well, he is an older man.

  Twenty-one, in fact. And he’s kind

  and smart, and really good looking . . .”

  It was then or never; at least

  that’s how it felt, so I went ahead

  and added, “And he’s in the Corps.”

  Mom’s jaw went rigid. Surely you

  don’t mean the Marine Corps? When

  I looked away, she knew. Yet she kept

  her voice low. Are you actively seeking

  heartbreak? Have you heard there’s a war

  going on? I can’t believe you’re that stupid.

  That smarted, but I didn’t want to

  argue, or even defend myself.

  “Love is stupid sometimes, I guess.

  Look, Mom, I didn’t go looking to fall

  for a soldier. Yes, I know there’s a war.

  Cole’s heading that way very soon.”

  Stating it so matter-of-factly sucked

  all bravado out of me. My shoulders

  slumped and my eyes stung. “And

  I’d really a-a . . .” A huge wad of

  emotion crept up my throat. I choked

  it back. “Appreciate your support.”

  Mom shook her head, dropped

  her eyes toward her plate. It was

  Dad who said, Ashley, girl, I think

  this is a huge lapse of judgment.

  But I can see you’re upset. We’ll

  talk about it after dinner, okay?

  But our appetites were crushed

  beneath a relentless blitz of silence.

  THE WEIGHT OF SILENCE

  The plain is still,

  emptied

  of even the thinnest

  sounds—the murmur

  of creeping sand;

  pillowed spin of tumbleweed;

  susurrus of feathers trapped

  in thermal lift.

  The well is dry,

  drained

  to weary echo

  above desiccated silt.

  Thirst swells, bloats

  every cell until

  the body arcs

  beneath its weight.

  The page is blank,

  scrubbed of

  metaphor, flawless

  turn of phrase. Parched

  within the silence, hungered

  in a desert without

  words,

  I am stranded

  in your absence.

  Cole Gleason

  Present

  THE TIMING

  For this trip couldn’t be a whole

  lot worse. The semester has barely

  started, and I’m just settling into

  my classes. I’ll only miss a few days,

  though. Hopefully my professors

  will be understanding. I’m not so

  sure about Mr. Clinger, who wears

  austerity proudly. I wonder if he writes

  poetry, too, or if he only analyzes it.

  You can’t teach poetry without truly

  loving it, can you? Guess we’ll see. Class

  is over for the day, the room deserted

  except for Mr. Clinger and me.

  “Excuse me.” I muster my prettiest

  smile, but when he looks up, he scowls,

  and I almost change my mind.

  Yes, Ms. Patterson? What can I do

  for you? His voice is flat, though

  his blue glacier eyes seem curious

  enough. I study his face, subtly creased

  beneath a surfer’s tan. He might

  be handsome, if he could find a smile.

  “I won’t be in class on Friday or Monday.”

  I see. And where, if I might ask,

  will you be? He taps his fingers

  on the metal table top. Drumming

  impatience. “I’m flying to Hawaii

  on Thursday. Cole—uh, my boyfriend—

  is deploying to Afghanistan. He’ll be gone

  seven months and . . .” Suddenly, it hits

  me that Cole will spend the holidays

  overseas. Again. Flimsy celebrations

  this year. “It’s his fourth deployment.

  We’ll have a
few days to say good-bye.”

  I see. His tone is not especially

  sympathetic. You’ll miss a test, but

  I suppose I can let you make it up.

  “Thank you, Mr. Clinger.” I saved

  some ammunition, just in case.

  Apparently, I don’t need it, but I’ll

  use it anyway, if only for punctuation.

  “By the way, Cole writes poetry.

  I was wondering what you thought

  about this.” I hold out the crinkled paper

  like it’s a special gift, which it is.

  He reads Cole’s poem, “The Weight

  of Silence.” Reads it twice, I think.

  Finally comments, This is good.

  “Really? I thought so, too.

  I’ll tell him you said—”

  I wasn’t finished. I’m almost sorry

  it’s this good. I hate to see talent

  wasted, and, one way or another,

  the military will squander it.

  I’M AT A LOSS

  How to respond? I want to say

  something, but can’t find words.

  “I . . . um . . . don’t . . .” He stares

  intently, dissecting me with

  those translucent, cool eyes.

  Behind the frost, there’s a story.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand

  what you mean. Waste it, how?”

  Now he’s searching for his own

  words. That’s gratifying. Finally,

  This is a military city. Teaching here,

  I’ve seen a lot of what the service

  can do. Not much of it is good.

  People lose autonomy. Lose dreams.

  Worst of all, they lose other people.

  People who are important to them.

  I nod, because it’s largely true. Still,

  “I try not to think about losing him.

  I know it could happen, sure. But if

  I let myself worry, I’d be wrecked

  all the time. Cole was a Marine

  when I met him. That’s who I fell in

  love with. I have no way of divorcing

  him from the Corps, so I cope.”

  I understand. To a point, anyway.

  I was an Army brat, so no divorce

  was possible. My father dragged

  us halfway around the world and

  back. I never had real friends. Never

  knew what it meant to set down

  roots until after I came here. Once

  I finally sprouted some, the taproot

  grew deep. I doubt I’ll ever leave.

  That turned out to be a problem

  for my wife. Or, should I say, my

  ex-wife. She was hot to travel.

  Ah, the story behind the frost.