Miracles do happen…
“Hey.”
I glanced down to see Ruby in front of me. “Hey.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes, then gave me a hug that I needed more than I thought.
“You did good,” she said and pretended to sock my chin.
“I survived,” I said, with an answering smile.
“All right, Ruby, hands off our brother…”
Felicia and Kimberly took their turns giving me a hug. Both of my sisters had Dad’s dark hair and brown eyes. Kimberly wore tight jeans, a short-waisted jacket, and bright blue eye shadow. Felicia wore no makeup and a baggy Sox sweatshirt. She was already starting to have the same rundown, old-before-her-years look Ma had.
“Damn, Wes,” Kimberly said, stepping back to give me a once-over. “You know what they say about a man in uniform.”
Felicia made a face. “Don’t be gross. He’s our brother.”
“He cleans up good, is all.”
“Agreed, but maybe don’t look at our own flesh and blood like you wanna hit that.”
“Maybe fuck yourself.”
Mebbe fuck ya-self.
Felicia rolled her eyes and smacked a smoky kiss on my cheek. “She’s a perv. You look great, Wes. But I’m with Ma about the haircut.”
“Thanks, Leesh,” I said. Carefully. Another minute in my sisters’ strongly-accented company would pull my own South
ie out of my mouth.
Paul came over, hand outstretched. “Congratulations, Wes,” he said. “I hope it’s not too forward, but I’m proud of you.”
I’m proud of you, son.
I shook his hand but let go quickly. “Thanks.”
The two families joined up and for a moment, we stood in silence under the afternoon sun, exchanging glances. No one wanting to voice the inevitable question, What now?
“Any word on your deployment?” Mr. Drake asked and his wife closed her eyes slowly, then opened them. “When or where?”
“Fort Benning, in two weeks,” Connor said. “Then Qatar. From there, we don’t know yet.”
“To the front? Where the fighting is?” Kimberly asked.
“We don’t know yet,” I repeated, slowly.
“But we have you both for now,” Autumn said. “For two weeks.”
It felt like nothing.
Paul put his arm around Ma. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? Let’s enjoy the picnic and having these young men home.”
The feeling of dread lodged itself deeper. Not for the combat we might face—I was trained to deal with that. But for the first time, I couldn’t see my future. No track, no writing, no job on Wall Street or even a life in the military. After this two weeks’ of leave, there was nothing but ominous blackness.
“Weston?”