“Dos XX, if you’d be so kind,” I replied. “If you’ve got it, Lager.”
“I think we just might,” she smiled before turning back to her husband. “How about you, dear? Feeling thirsty?”
Darren was preparing a few patties on the counter beside the built-in grill. Pausing to think for a moment, he shrugged. “Go ahead and make that two.”
“Okay then, back in a sec!”
She sauntered inside, and we started trading old war stories.
Darren was a good man. He’d been one of the more senior members to my platoon, an older, more rugged version of myself. We’d become fast friends in the line of fire… bash brothers, they sometimes called a pair like us.
Darren had retired three years before I left the marines. With a steady military pension and a ton of money in the bank, he’d had the luxury of throwing himself into picking up a new skill.
The others were a little surprised to see that he’d become a freelance novelist, but it didn’t surprise me much. The guy was highly introspective, and very detail-oriented. With his firm grasp of Marine life, a greater scope of military operations, and a ton of stories kicking around in the back of his head, he was already starting to make waves with his first novel's release.
Last I’d heard, he was a sure shot to the tail end of the New York Times Bestsellers List.
When Sam returned with the refreshments, we were laughing riotously over some of the military pranks we’d pulled during our tenure overseas.
Life was always rough out there, and war never changed. But it was all about the approach you took to the life you chose.
We spent a good couple of hours chatting away, cooking up great food, and basking in the pleasure of our own company. Darren was a fantastic friend, same as always, and his wife was a real treat too. It was gratifying to watch her sit against him, her head on his shoulder and he delighted in tales of our old life, and ridiculous stories from before my time.
They really loved each other, he and her.
At least they got their happy ending, I thought.
“I have to admit, this has been a little on the surreal side for me,” Darren chuckled as he swished his beer around, towards the end of my visit. “I figured I’d see you around at a few reunions or something, but I sure as shit didn’t expect you to pick up the phone and be here in town for a week.”
“Yeah, it’s been a while since we’ve really seen each other, hasn’t it?” I smiled, glancing through the window at the dry, arid environment. “Although, you must not have wanted to get far from the desert if you settled in the American Southwest like this…”
“You know that’s not what I mean,” the older man sighed, setting his beer down with a deep, drawn out sigh.
I looked back at him.
“I don’t think I follow.”
A shrewd smile crossed Darren’s lips. “Dalton Carlyle. The British Bastard! I have seen you pull marines off of grenades with my own eyes. You’ve always, always had my back. You’re the only one out of our pack that I ever completely trusted with my life. When I was wounded and down in the dirt, you defended me from an insurgent with just a combat knife and the grit in your teeth...”
I shifted in my seat slightly, remembering that uncomfortable flashback again. Pushing the mental images away, I forced a faint smile at the recognition.
“…And yet, after all the things that could have killed us out there, it’s a woman that cripples you. From what you’ve told me, a good woman at that. Put you in the desert with a knife, or put someone you actually care about in harms way… and you’d go for the knife, every time.”
“Darren…” I subtly warned.
Sam sat down with him as he continued.
“Bro, you’re a bonafide lady-killer. I wouldn’t believe this shit unless I’d seen it with my own eyes. Hell, the morning after you leave, I’ll be halfway convinced I dreamt this.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” I told him.
Darren nodded. “Yeah, the thing with the parents. That’s pretty out there, I’ll admit it. But I mean, you saw this girl before you knew about that, right? Isn’t that what you told me?”
“Yes,” I reluctantly admitted.
“And you were already interested?”
“I was.”
“So, I don’t get it.”
“Darren, she sent me away. She doesn’t want any part of this. It was hard enough to chase her when she was sort of onboard with the… complications we’ll be facing… but the second I opened my stupid mouth and told her about traveling the world, she snapped up tighter than our resources officer when we had that severed supply line.”
“Then go get her,” Sam cut in, facing me firmly. “Change her mind. Instead of sulking out here in the desert with your old war buddy, much as we both love your company. This isn’t your place, Dalton. You know that.”
I held my head in my hands.
“What am I supposed to do? Just march up and tell her, you know, fuck it? Let’s throw caution to the winds, no matter how crazy it sounds? Regardless of what our parents will think?”
Darren reached for his beer again. He offhandedly spoke: “If you ever really cared about this girl, it sounds like you’ve answered your own question.” He took a deep sip, leaving me with the thought.
Sam winked at me. “He’s right. Seems to me like you’ve already got this figured out.”
I leaned back, gazing out the window again. The arid landscape was beautiful, in its own way, especially with the sun setting across the land. It was also impartial. It was neutral, and it didn’t give a flying fuck about what I was going through.
It was dry, barren, and rock solid.
It was the way I used to be.
“It might really be that simple, yeah?” I wondered aloud. “Just like that.”
“Just like that,” Darren nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll echo everything Sam said, but in particular… you know we both love you. You’re welcome in our home as long as you’d like, anytime you’d like. But most importantly… this isn’t where you need to be.”
I stared him straight in the eyes, seated across from me.
“You need to be back there, where you belong. With her.” He stopped to swig back the last of his beer. “This must be scary for you, though. Actually caring about a girl for once. I get why you’d want to run away from this.”
“I don’t run,” I told him through gritted teeth.
“You ran halfway across the country to come here,” Sam shrugged halfheartedly. “What’s the difference? Plane just got you here faster.”
Holy fuck, she has a point.
“You’re seeing reason,” Darren chuckled as he set his empty bottle back down. “I think you know what you need to do now.”
I stood up, with the clearest head I’d had all freaking week.
“I do,” I told him.
The two of them stood up with me.
“Good,” he grinned, extending his hand. “Put ‘er here, and go get her.”
I laughed at the gesture, pulling him into a heavy embrace. A
s we separated, Sam drew close, and we hugged as well.
“You’ll do great,” she smiled. “We both believe in you, Dalton. Just remember: don’t be a stranger. You can come back out here without some sort of existential crisis, you know.”
“I can’t thank you both enough,” I told them.
“You can stay here the night if you need to,” Darren told me, glancing at his wife just to be sure.
“No need,” I told him. “I’m calling the rental place and the airlines on the way, dropping the car off, and putting myself square on the next plane back home.”
“Just like that, huh?” Sam asked.
“Just like that.”
That’s exactly what I did.
I seriously lucked out with a plane headed back home, although the protocols of the rental lot – and the security line at the airport itself – almost made me miss the flight.
But a few hours later, I was stepping off of the plane, climbing back onto my motorcycle, and roaring down the Interstate towards her apartment.
While I stopped to pump gas, I happened to flip Facebook open. Flicking through my feed absentmindedly, I noticed a status update that she’d posted a few minutes beforehand.
“Refreshing end to a long day. Bon appetite!”
Clara apparently had geo-location turned on for her updates, so I conveniently learned that she was at some swanky Italian restaurant in town.
She must be having dinner with Natalie, I reasoned to myself while I disengaged the pump and hit the road. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too far from my location – I could probably make it in about ten minutes.
Thank you, intrusive Facebook, I sighed. I liked to leave that setting off, but it was easy to forget it was there once you’d checked in somewhere once.
A few red lights and a missed turn later, and I was parking my motorcycle. I kicked down the stand, pulled the helmet off, and strolled in the direction of the front door.
It was only as I pushed the doors open that I realized she might be having dinner with our parents instead… which wouldn’t exactly be great for a public declaration of love.