“Tell me something I don’t know. ”
Another pause. “We’re leaving tomorrow,” she said. “For Iraq. ”
“Has it been a month already?”
“Yes, Michael. ”
In the insanity of the last four weeks, he’d forgotten this date, almost forgotten that she was going to war. He hadn’t really forgotten, of course; the knowledge had been a shadow, rarely glimpsed in the hectic mess of his days. Up until now she’d been safe, so it had been easier to think about himself.
“I don’t know what communication will be like at Balad, or how long we’ll be there. I’ll keep in touch as best I can. ” She paused. “Michael, it would be really nice if the girls could send me letters or e-mails if we have Internet. ”
He thought about her days over there, how empty a part of her would be without her girls. It was kind of shameful that she’d had to ask this. Especially since he knew how hard it was for her to ask for favors from him or anyone. “I’ll make sure,” he said.
“Thanks. Well. I gotta go now, the natives are getting restless. ”
“Jo?”
“Yeah?”
“Be safe,” he said. “Take care of yourself. ”
She sighed. “Good-bye, Michael. ”
“Good-bye. ”
All he wanted to do was go to the counter, retrieve his drink, and finish it. He even thought fondly of getting drunk.
Instead, he dialed the local pizza shop, ordered dinner, and went upstairs.
Betsy’s bedroom door was open. He peeked in, saw that she wasn’t there, and walked down the hall to the bathroom.
She was peering into the mirror, messing with her face.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to squeeze those things,” he said.
She pivoted, screamed, “GET OUT,” and slammed the door shut in his face.
He stood there a long time, waiting for her to change her mind and apologize.
Nothing.
Finally, he went back downstairs and found Lulu watching Jolene’s good-bye video again.
He groaned.
The pizza arrived, and he paid the kid and slapped the pie on the table, yelling, “Dinner. ”
“Pizza is for birthdays, Daddy. Not dinner,” Lulu said with a sigh. She walked past him and climbed up to the table just as his mother walked into the house, looking irritated.
“Don’t you ever hang up on me again, young man. Is Betsy okay?”
“She’s here,” he said. “I don’t know how okay she is. ”
“Thank God. From now on—”
“Please, Ma. Yell at me tomorrow. It’s been a hell of a day. ”
His mother stared up at him. “You need to do better, Michael,” she said evenly.