Walker
Major Ryan, the Marine Corps chaplain, saves me, which if I still believed in God would be in some way poetic.
“You look about ready to dig a tunnel,” he whispers in my ear.
Angela is momentarily distracted, talking to Dodds. I think she’s telling him all about her dogs.
“God, yes,” I answer him. I’m trained well enough to know that when an opportunity arises, you take it. You don’t hesitate. Hesitation gets you killed.
I’m on my feet in the next second.
“You’re leaving?”
It’s Angela. Damn.
“We have gentlemen’s business to attend to,” the chaps answers for me.
I shrug. If he told her we were heading off for a gay tryst in the bushes, I wouldn’t care. In fact, I consider putting it out there anyway, thinking it might deter her from any future advances, but I’m not sure how the chaps would feel if I did that.
“Oh, okay, well, I’ll come find you in a bit,” Angela says, giving my arm a firm squeeze.
The chaplain threads my arm through his and starts to lead me through the crowd.
“Nice girl,” he murmurs. “Maybe a little too keen.”
“Thanks,” I tell him. “I really appreciate it.”
“Where would you like to go?” he asks when we’re out of earshot.
My room is what I want to say, but I don’t. I’m here now and I want to speak to Didi. Maybe she’s inside where all the food and preparation is going on. Maybe she’s helping organize the volunteers. Maybe she’s standing right in front of me but just doesn’t want to talk to me. The thought hurts. More than it should.
“Inside, please,” I tell the chaps and he guides me, speaking in a low voice and giving me careful directions about where to put my feet and where there’s a step coming up. He’s a good guy. I have a feeling he paid me a visit when I first arrived at the center and I may have told him where to stick his Bible. I wish I hadn’t now.
“Yo, Lieutenant!” It’s Sanchez. I stop. “I saw you got stuck talking to Angela. I am really sorry about that. I told Valentina she should stay out of it, that you weren’t interested in being fixed up, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“It’s fine,” I say.
“You okay if I leave you now?” the chaps asks.
“Yes, thank you, sir,” I say.
He clasps my hand and shakes it. “It’s an honor, Lieutenant,” he says, and out of nowhere a lump forms in my throat that I struggle to swallow away.
“Oh man, you think Dodds is okay?” Sanchez asks.
I can only guess that he’s seen Angela trying to force-feed him cake.
“Yeah,” Sanchez continues without waiting for me to answer. “I’m sure he’s fine.” He sounds doubtful.
“Have you seen Didi?” I ask him, throwing the question out there before I can stop myself.
“Nah,” he says. “Why?” There’s a pause, then he punches me on the arm. “Oh my God! You like her. You dirty dog. You’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
“Yeah, you are, you’re blushing like a virgin on her wedding night.”
Now I can feel the heat rising up my neck. I glare at Sanchez.
“You totally have the hots for her.” He slaps me on the back. “And Lieutenant,” he says, “I got to congratulate you on your fine taste in women. Even though you can’t see shit, you managed to pick the hottest girl in the building, ’cept for my wife, that is.”
“Who’s hot? Who are you talking about?”
It’s Valentina.
“No one,” Sanchez mutters quickly. “Hey, Tina, you seen Didi anywhere? Doctor Monroe’s daughter?”
“Yes! I just saw her with Zac Ridgemont.”
My gut tightens like someone’s thrown a lasso around my waist.
“I think those two are an item,” Valentina gushes in a reverent tone. “Did you know? Oh my God, can you even imagine? Dating a movie star! I wonder what he’s like in bed. That body . . .”
“He’s a dick,” Sanchez cuts in fast.
“Don’t say that,” Valentina yells. “You don’t even know him. He was so polite to me just now. Look, he let me take a photo with him.”
“He asked Dodds how he goes to the bathroom and José told me he went around shaking everyone’s hand in the physical therapy room telling them how ‘inspiring’ they are.”
“That’s sweet,” Valentina coos.
“No it isn’t. Anyone tells me I’m inspiring I’ll punch them in the face.”
I barely hear the conversation. My brain is still trying to decipher the news. Didi’s dating Zac Ridgemont? That’s her kind of boyfriend? I hear myself laughing out loud.
“What’s so funny?” Valentina asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
What’s funny is that she’s dating a movie star and that I thought maybe, possibly, there was a chance that . . . I can’t even finish the thought. Angela made me feel pathetic earlier, but now I feel I’ve reached a whole new level of pathetic I never knew existed. I laugh some more. That’s why Didi hasn’t been to see me in five days. She must have figured out I was into her like some panting stray dog and felt embarrassed about it. I’m so fucking stupid. I spin on my heel, trying to get my bearings.
“Where you going?” Sanchez asks.
“To my room,” I mumble.
“That’s the wrong way,” he says.
“Why are you going?” Valentina chimes in. She takes my arm. “Stay! Did you try my guacamole yet?”
I can feel my face burning, the laughter gathering in my chest, bubbling up my throat—hysterical laughter, bitter-tasting. I shake her off.
“I need to take some pain meds,” I say. Lying. I’m lying. I just want them off my back.
“Let him go,” Sanchez tells her. “I’ll walk you back if you like,” he says to me.
“I’m fine,” I say, feeling the laughter ebb and swell then disappear, tamped down all of a sudden by a growl of rage that’s trying to burst free—pent-up anger and frustration triggered by shame.
“Okay,” Sanchez backs off.
I concentrate on orienting myself, though my head feels like it’s about to burst and I’m finding it hard to focus on my surroundings. The noises around me seem to be amplified and the smells too—it’s as if the smoke of the grill and the eye-watering stink of onions is turning into the acrid smolder of gunpowder and the stench of burning skin. The doors are open to the lawn and I can hear the chink of glassware and loud conversation blasting from my right, which means if I walk straight ahead I should get to the doors to the hallway that leads to the elevators. I’ll just find the wall and follow it.
I hear Valentina and Sanchez arguing in loud whispers, probably about letting me go unaccompanied, and I imagine Sanchez telling Valentina that I have the hots for Didi.
Embarrassment propels me even faster toward the doors. At least toward where I hope the doors are. I smack a table, sending something smashing to the floor, but I keep going. I bang into someone and mumble an apology and finally, hands out in front of me like a real blind man, I find the wall and follow it until I’m out in the hallway.
I yank on my collar to loosen it—it’s so hot I could choke—and then, on shaking legs and with a hand against the wall, I keep walking.