“You’ve seen Full Metal Jacket, right?” he asked, turning to me.
I shook my head. “Vietnam movies aren’t my thing.”
“It’s not the most accurate movie, but the guys and I used to watch it all the time—the first part’s pretty good. I had this friend who used to quote it, did the voices and everything.” He was quiet for a minute, and it was like a cloud had passed across his face. So fast that I thought maybe I’d imagined it. “Anyway, it’s pretty good for what it is.”
“My movie tastes are more boy meets girl, girl falls in love with boy, and everything’s happy at the end,” I said.
His lips turned up a little. “Okay. But still. It’s a classic. Anyway, that song’s at the end of it. It’s … Dairy Queen.”
“It’s Dairy Queen?”
“No.” He laughed and pointed off the side of the road.
“Oh. Right. That was fast.”
He swung into the drive-thru, and we ordered Blizzards, trying to goad each other into getting as many flavors as possible. When I tried to pay for us, he swatted my hand away.
“Josh—you rescued me! I’m, like, a damsel in distress. Let me buy you a Blizzard—it’s the least I can do.”
“Skylar, shut up.”
I wanted to be annoyed, but I just laughed. Maybe it was a post-crisis adrenaline rush, where everything’s slightly hilarious.
He handed me my Blizzard, and we pulled back onto the road. I took a bite.
“I think if I could only eat one thing for the rest of my life, it’d be this,” I said.
He scrunched up his nose. “I don’t know about that.”
I held up a spoonful for him. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
He hesitated for just a second, then leaned over and took a bite. I knew it was dumb, but seeing my spoon in his mouth made me so happy. Damn Florence Nightingale.
“That’s disgusting,” he said. “It should be illegal to put Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and mint together.”
“Yes, because your combo of pineapple and Snickers is a real winner.”
“You know, I’m starting to feel like you’d rather walk home.” He changed lanes to get closer to the shoulder.
“Okay, okay.” I held out my hands in surrender. “Pineapple and Snickers are a match made in heaven.”
He switched back to the fast lane. “That’s what I thought.”
We drove in silence for a while or turned up songs we liked and talked about how great they were, unless it was one of Josh’s heavy metal songs, in which case I pointed out all the ways it was appalling. Sometimes we stared out at the fields as we drove past them, talking about Creek View and whatever popped into our minds.
“Writing poetry?” I teased, pointing to the black leather journal sitting on top of his dashboard that I’d noticed the night he picked me up for Leo’s.
Josh took a bite of his Blizzard, shrugged. “Just something my therapist is making me do. God, that sounds so gay. My therapist.”
“Are you coming out of the closet right now? Or are you saying all gay people have therapists?”
“Oh, you know what I mean. Don’t get all PC on me,” he said, lightly shoving my shoulder.
“Well, somebody has to.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. It’s not gay, it’s … bleh. I don’t know. It sucks.”
“That’s where you were before you picked me up, right? Blake said something about a doctor in Fresno.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I go a couple times a week. I have rehab and therapy and … just stuff.” He cleared his throat.
“So it’s shitty, then?” I asked.
“Yeah, pretty much. It’s better when I go to San Diego, to the military hospital. There’s a dog there.”
“A dog?”
I knew about his trips to San Diego, but he’d never told me much about them.
“Yeah. He’s a Lab, totally awesome. He chills with us, hangs out when we’re talking and stuff. This one dude lost both his arms—his Humvee went over, like, three IEDs. So he pets the dog with his feet.” He shook his head. “Guess I’m lucky, huh?”
“You do have nice arms.”
He snorted, and I looked out the window, biting back a smile.
“The dog in San Diego … he sort of reminds me of this one we had in our regiment—Buddy. He was this black Lab, a bomb dog. A killer in the field, but a total softie when he was off duty. He’d come out with us when we were patrolling, sniffing out IEDs.”
I took the cover off my shake and spooned it into my mouth. It was thick and sweet, and I felt like I could eat ten of them. It was so good I almost forgot my whole life had just blown apart.
“It’s kind of hard to imagine a dog out there.”
“I know, right?”
I thought about the night of the Fourth, the look in his eyes when the fireworks went off.
“So, the therapy is helping? The dog and stuff?” I asked.
“Sort of, yeah. A friend of mine bit it this week, so I was feeling all…” He sighed. “He had a little girl. Just sucks, you know?”
“God, yeah.” I wouldn’t have known unless he’d said something. Sometimes he was a complete mystery. How did he hold it all in? I thought of that little girl, growing up without her dad, and my heart hurt for her.
Josh looked over at me. “Let’s talk about something else. Your day’s been shitty enough.”
“It’s okay. I mean, you can talk to me about … whatever. Honestly.”
“I know.” He brushed my arm and smiled. Such a little thing, that act, but it felt huge. Seismic.
I tried to think of something as far away from Afghanistan as possible. “Do you believe there’s intelligent life on Mars?”
“You are one weird chick.”
“Yeah, but you’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” I said, grinning. “Alien attacks and all that.”
Josh grunted. “Yeah, I am.” He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Okay. There has to be intelligent life on Mars. Humans kind of suck at life.”
I laughed. “Yes. Please don’t let us be the last word in evolution.”
“Amen, sister.”
I held up the copy of Shantaram sitting on the seat between us. It didn’t seem like a very Josh book. For one thing, it was, like, a million pages.
“What’s the deal with this?”
His eyes slid to the book, then back to the road. “Friend of mine made a list of books for me to read. This one’s about an Australian con man in India—it’s pretty cool. Did you know Indians do this with their heads when they talk?”
He wiggled his head from side to side, and I laughed.
“What number is it on the list?” I asked.
“Thirty-nine out of a hundred and twenty. I had a lot of time to read in the hospital.”
Wow.
“What will you do when you finish all of them? Is he gonna give you another one?”
Josh gripped the wheel, stared straight ahead. The look on his face made me want to take the words back, snatch them out of the air.
“No,” he finally said.
Oh.
I wondered if it was the guy he’d told me about that night we threw the bottles. Or someone else—the one who’d given him Slaughterhouse-Five. How many friends had he lost?
“Well … maybe I can make a list for you—if you want.”
He looked at me, surprised. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ll start you off with Green Eggs and Ham, and we’ll work up from there.”
“You’re just pissed because I read more than you do.”
I nodded. “Guilty. Lately all I want to do is work on this collage I’m making for Marge. But I like Slaughterhouse so far.”
“Nice.”
“Was that on the list?”
“Number one.”
He cleared his throat a little, and when he glanced at me, I saw that his eyes had clouded over again. “Can I … can I tell you something?” he said suddenly. “It??
?s a secret—probably shouldn’t even be … but I’ve gotta—I want you to know.”
It made me happier than it should have that he trusted me, but the look on his face turned me cold inside.
“Yeah. Whatever it is, I won’t tell anyone.” I tried to smile. “Cross my heart.”
“You know how Marge’s son was in the Army?”
“Yeah. He died in Iraq, right?”
“No.”
And then Josh told me the truth about Marge’s son.
I sat there, stunned, trying to reconcile the image I’d always had of her hero dying in battle with this new one of a severely depressed kid lying in a bloody bathtub.
“—and sometimes she’ll look at me like … I don’t know, Sky, I just … it’s intense, you know?”
He frowned at the road in front of him.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice soft.
I wanted to tear this picture of Marge’s son out of my mind, him in that bathtub. I couldn’t imagine Josh ever—
“You’re not him,” I said. Did I sound strong? Certain?
Josh looked at me. Nodded. “Damn straight.”
He said that in a case-closed kind of voice, and so I sat there, grieving for Marge and this kid I’d never met and worrying about the one sitting beside me, the mess of it all swirling around my head, dizzying.
More silence, but after a while it was the good kind, like the blanket I had on my bed that was so soft, just touching it made me sleepy.
We passed the Taco Bell where my mom used to work and the gas station where I now spent my weekends. I could see Chris’s truck outside, and I imagined him in there with his bright orange shirt, selling candy bars and huge fountain sodas. We’d be home in a few minutes. The thought of seeing Josh’s red taillights made me feel unmoored. It was different than the gnawing sadness from the social services parking lot. But it was still there.
He turned into the trailer park. Knowing I wasn’t leaving it after all, I felt like I was seeing it for the first time. The chain-link fence surrounding the property, the sagging hulks of metal, the kids hosing one another down because the only pool in town was at the Paradise.
“What a shithole,” I murmured.
Josh reached out and grabbed my hand and lightly squeezed before letting go. Suddenly I didn’t know which way was up.
“The real question,” he said, “is if there is intelligent life on Mars, would you rather live there or in Creek View?”
“There,” I said automatically.
He nodded his head. “Yep.”
chapter twenty
When Josh pulled his truck up to my trailer, Billy’s red pickup was in the driveway. He parked behind it.
“Thanks,” I said.
He looked at the steering wheel for a second, then turned to me. “What happened today?”
I shook my head and put my hand on the door handle, keeping my back to him. Before I could do anything, Josh shut off the ignition.
“I’m walking you to the door this time,” he said.
“It’s cool, I can—”
“Nope.” He pointed to Billy’s truck. “That dude is seriously bad news, Sky.”
He was out of the truck before I could say anything else. I sighed and grabbed my bag, then slid out.
As we started up the steps, I turned to look at him before I opened the door. “My mom’s not doing so well,” I said. “So don’t think … I mean, she’s not usually like this.”
“Have you seen my family?”
“Yeah, but…” I didn’t really know what to say except go home, and he obviously had no intention of doing that.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said.
That look again. The one he’d given me when he’d found me sleeping under the tree.
I nodded and when I opened the door, I could feel the heat of him behind me, lending me courage when I saw the half-empty boxes all over the floor.
They could only mean one thing, those boxes—but where could we possibly go?
“Mom?” I called.
Her bedroom door was shut, and I heard laughter and the thud of a bottle hitting the floor.
“Coming!” Her voice was muffled, but the plywood was thin, and I could hear the clink of Billy’s belt as he put it on.
I turned around. “Josh, you’d better—”
And even as his eyes were saying a resolute no, the door opened and out walked Billy, shirtless, and my mom, wearing her threadbare bathrobe. My dad’s bathrobe.
“Hey, baby,” she said. Her eyes were a little unfocused, and her smile faded when she saw Josh behind me.
“Hi,” she said, her voice flat. She’d never liked the Mitchells. She used to say they were white trash—looked like the shoe was on the other foot now.
“Hello, ma’am. Good to see you.”
“Ma’am?” she said, then giggled. Giggled.
I felt Josh stiffen behind me. “He’s just being polite, Mom.”
He’d been the same way with Marge—I figured it was a military thing, because he never used to talk like that. But it was nice, and I was embarrassed for my mom. In all the years of being broke and dealing with her crap, I’d never once been ashamed of her. Until now.
Mom frowned, and Billy shuffled over to the fridge to grab a beer. For a minute, the four of us just stood there, none of us belonging.
In the truck with Josh, I’d almost forgotten my horrible afternoon. But now it all came rushing back, and my bones were heavy with failure.
“Home from the war, huh?” Billy said, cracking open the can. His toenails were too long, all yellowed and broken at the ends. How could my mom share her bed with those feet?
“Yep,” was all Josh said. No sir for Billy, I noticed.
“That’s a real shame about your leg,” Mom said. She looked down at Josh’s prosthesis and shuddered a little. I wanted to dig my own grave, then throw myself in it. Why had I let him come in?
“Anyway, I was just getting us some Cokes and then we’re gonna go over to Dylan’s for a bit.” I looked at Josh, a question—a desperate plea—in my eyes.
“Yeah,” he said, not missing a beat. He checked his watch. “Better hurry. She’s probably waiting.”
I gave him a grateful smile, then turned back to my mom.
“What’s up with the boxes?”
She flushed and looked at Billy. A slow smile spread across his face. “Well … Billy’s…” She coughed and motioned to her bedroom. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Um.”
I looked back at Josh, and he put a hand on my arm. “It’s okay. I’ll wait.”
I nodded and followed my mom into her dimly lit room. It smelled like sex and booze—I didn’t even know what sex smelled like, but, suddenly, I just knew. I felt nauseated, like the world had started spinning a little too fast on its axis.
“What’s going on, Mom?”
But I knew. Of course I knew.
She smiled, but it wasn’t her real smile. It was too bright, and somehow apologetic and defiant at the same time. “Billy’s moving in.”
I could feel the WHAT THE FUCK look on my face, my jaw dropping in an almost comical way.
“No,” I said.
“Baby, he’s gonna help us pay the rent and—”
“So, what, you’re, like, some prostitute now? He pays rent, and you—”
Her hand flew up, and it was hitting my cheek before I could duck out of the way.
“Don’t talk to me like that,” she growled.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice thick. My ear started to ring, and my cheek stung.
And I was. I knew this wasn’t her. We weren’t that family—the screaming, hitting kind—never had been. This was a drunk, depressed woman, and soon she’d see that this was all a mistake, and how could I have called my own mother a prostitute?
Insane. I was going insane.
“Mom, I can cover the rent. I’ve got the job at the gas station and—”
“You’r
e going to college. Then what will I do? I’m being realistic, Sky.”
I shook my head, which was starting to throb, and lowered my voice so that Josh couldn’t hear us. “I’ll stay. I’m staying. We don’t need him, Mom.”
She grabbed a pack of cigarettes off her bedside table and lit one. I noticed that her hands were shaking the tiniest bit, but I wouldn’t help her light it.
“You can’t give me everything I need, baby.”
I had two choices: sad or angry. I turned around and opened the door, letting it slam against the bedroom wall. In the living room, Josh and Billy were standing close, in each other’s faces. I’d opened the door just in time to hear Josh say, “Touch her, and I will personally fuck you up.”
They turned to look at me, Josh’s eyes immediately settling on my bright red cheek. A muscle twitched near his jaw. I caught his eye and shook my head. It seemed like he’d gotten taller while I was in the bedroom, and his eyes had taken on a hawkish, focused intensity that was more than a little intimidating. I was seeing Josh Mitchell the Marine for the first time. It wasn’t hard to imagine him with a gun in his hands.
Billy’s oily smile fell on me. “Now, honey—”
“I’m paying the rent now,” I said. “And I say you’re not moving in.”
“That’s not your decision to make, Skylar,” he said.
I heard my mother come up behind me. “Mom,” I said, turning to her. “Please.”
She just stood there, a shell of the woman who used to come home with cinnamon twists and soft tacos for us to share while I told her about my day. Finally, she shrugged her shoulders.
“This is for the best,” she said. “You’ll see.”
“How could this possibly be for the best? Mom…”
“You’ll see,” she repeated.
I felt my cell buzz in my pocket, and I knew it was Dylan, who was supposed to go on a date that she really needed and deserved, and who was waiting for me to take care of her son. This situation with my mom wasn’t something I could fix in a night—Billy was halfway moved in, and neither of them was sober. Someone had to be the adult here, and as usual, it was going to be me.
“Josh, I’m just gonna grab some stuff—give me a sec?”
He nodded, and I pushed past my mom to my bedroom. I yanked clothes off hangers without looking at them and stuffed them into a bag. Then I put my laptop under my arm because I didn’t trust Billy not to hock it. It was a cheap piece of crap that I’d bought after a year of saving, but I bet a pawnshop would give him enough for a few cases of beer. I threw a few things from the bathroom into my bag, then went back into the living room.