Biker's Virgin

"I have a hard time believing that," she challenged.

"Any word on how long you get to stay?" Dad asked.

"They don't really give us a schedule," I replied.

"So they can just come get you whenever they want?" Tiffany asked. Well...yeah. It was a job. The Armed Forces was my employer. I had signed a contract and everything.

"Pretty much," I said, resigned. That was exactly how it was. Going back was the last thing on my mind since I had just gotten home, but being realistic, another deployment was probably in the cards for me. I had lucked out with this one; shortish and not too many actual months spent in the combat zone. Fuck if I was going to let that ruin this for me. It was the furthest I had been from home and for the longest time. I was going to enjoy being here, especially since I wasn't sure how long I was going to get.

We talked throughout the trip back home, but my eyes stayed trained outside. Aberdeen wasn’t that big a town, but it was a big difference from the desert villages surrounding the airfield that had been my view for the past year.

I knew it was all in my mind, but I was expecting the house to look different. I hadn't lived there really since I had started college, but it had just felt like such a long time. I was waiting to see something that I totally didn't recognize. I felt so different coming back, so it just made sense in my mind that this place would have changed, too.

It hadn't. Our family home was right where it had always been. Two stories, two car garage, back and front yard, yellow exterior that Dad repainted every spring, gutters that it used to be my job to clean out when I was a kid. It was all the same.

"Here we are," Dad said as Tiffany pulled the car into the driveway. Home sweet home. For now. When I thought about home, this wasn't really it. I hadn't lived here for a while but I hadn't held onto my last place since being deployed. I was stuck here till I got a new place of my own. I opened my door and grabbed my luggage, following my father and Tiffany into the house.

Just like it was outside, the inside of the house was the same as it had always been. It was trippy, like I had never even left in the first place. It was sort of reassuring, too. It felt good knowing that some shit did stay the same, even when you didn't.

"You go on upstairs, Tiff's gonna get dinner started," Dad told me.

"I can help her."

"You get guest of honor privileges for one night. This will never happen again," Tiffany said to me, grinning.

"Your room's just how you left it. Go up there and settle in. I'll come get you when the grub's up," he said. I thanked him and started up the stairs. "Your mother would have been so proud of you coming home today. I wish she could see the man you grew into," he added.

I stopped and looked down at him. Five years ago was when she had died. She had been a big part of the reason that I had even gone through with it in the end.

"Thanks, I miss her, too," I said. I didn’t really want to talk about her. I knew he wasn’t really over the fact that she was gone. He smiled up at me and let me go.

Everything was where I had put it a year ago. The walls were whitewashed, and in some places, you could still see the little spots where the tape I had used to hang posters up back in the day had damaged the paint. I had a regular double bed, which wasn't that big, but bigger than the regulation beds we had used at camp. Most things after camp felt like a fucking luxury. I was glad to be back.

The first thing I did was take a shower so I could change out of my uniform. When there was a bunch of us and we were all in uniform, we all blended in, became one unit. Out in the civilian world, a guy in uniform stood out.

Before deploying, Dad had let me keep my clothes here at the house, along with stuff like my television and some gaming consoles, since he had space. The rest of the furniture I had used at my old apartment had all gone into storage.

It didn't feel like I had been gone long enough for this to feel new to me. It had just been a year. Some of the guys I had met were deployed on their second or third tours. All the stuff that seemed so normal, like having a closet and more clothes and belongings than you could carry on you at any one time felt new after not being able to have them while I was gone. It humbled the shit out of you. You couldn't feel like you weren't exactly the same as the other soldiers when you were in combat. It was a little like football in that way – but with much higher stakes and a million times more stressful.

I didn't know what was for dinner, but the smell coming from the kitchen when I came back downstairs was fantastic. The last thing I had eaten had been on the plane. When Mom had been around, she would do the cooking. Since she was gone, Dad had had to learn how to feed himself. Lucky for him, Tiff still lived at home and knew her way around a kitchen. The two of them were setting the table when I came back downstairs.

She had made individual chicken pot pies with a load of sides. I ate some of everything, and it was delicious. I took their questions as they came. Apparently, they had been paying close attention to the news just in case anything happened. They had been scared to death after the couple of bombing incidents that had made the news here, but that had never really been an everyday thing. I had to ease their anxiety about it.

Dad didn't stay long after dinner. He told us goodnight and headed upstairs. He never stayed up that late, even though it was a weekend. The food disappeared, replaced with coffee. I didn't want any since it was probably going to be a struggle getting back on US time. Tiff made herself a cup of dark coffee that she stirred about four sugars into.

It had always been easy talking to her. As adults, as fucked up as it sounds, losing Mom had made us closer. When it had happened, Tiff was the one person other than me who had really had that bond with her. She was the only person who really understood when they said that they understood.

"So how'd you keep yourself busy this past year?" I asked her.

"School, work, rinse, repeat."

"Two more years and you're out," I said.

"I don't know. I've been thinking about grad school a little lately," she said shrugging.

"Yeah? Why? Trying to stall on joining the real world?"

"Beth was in school till she was like, thirty, and look at her now," she quipped. Bethany was one of our cousins on our mom's side. She had two PhDs and our aunt had let her live at home till she had graduated. Fast forward a couple years and she was one of the youngest tenured professors at the University of Vermont.