5

Dash

“Janine?”

I stop in the middle of the café to take off my cap, my eyes wide as they stare into hers. I wouldn’t forget those warm, bright amber eyes or that red hair.

I don’t believe it’s her. Yes, I was thinking of her when I wrote that ad, but I never actually thought she’d be the one to respond to it. I never even thought I’d see her again. I thought she’d be married by now, with kids.

And yet, she’s here wearing a pink blouse with yellow flowers, the very same described in the message I got.

The realization is enough to make my chest tight, my heart ready to burst. It’s like that feeling after a mission when you’ve somehow made it alive. You don’t know how you did. You can’t believe you did. But you’re glad. You feel like the luckiest bastard in the world.

I quickly go over to her, picking up the shards of the cup she dropped, though I abandon the task when the waitress scurries over.

“Thank you,” I tell the waitress. My attention swivels back to Janine immediately. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” she answers without looking at me, wiping the stains off her blouse.

“Let me guess.” I scratch my chin. “You’re here because this place has good coffee that’s cheaper than Starbucks.”

She chuckles. “Well, yes. That and the fact that I’m waiting for someone wearing a Ravens cap.”

I take off my cap and give it to her. “This?”

She runs her fingers over the team insignia. “Still a Ravens fan, I see.”

“Still a coffee drinker.”

Still a stunner, I’d like to say. Her hair is as full and bouncy as I remember, her eyes still shimmering pools of molten gold.

She returns my cap. “And it seems you’re a RealCupid member, now, too. Can’t say I imagined that.”

“Ditto,” I tell her.

“Touché.” She nods then gives me a warm smile. “Welcome home, Dash. I’d give you a hug, but I wouldn’t want to get coffee on your shirt.”

I wouldn’t have minded.

“I’ve had worse things on my clothes.”

She nods. “Right. I’d still prefer clean clothes, too, so you think you can wait for me while I change?”

I look around the café, noting that more than half the tables are occupied.

“I have a better idea.”

* * *

I take off my cap as I enter Janine’s apartment, pausing to look around.

The yellowed ceiling and the loose loops on the carpet suggest that the apartment must be at least five years old. Even so, it still looks okay. It looks charming, actually, with yellow curtains, well-tended potted plants, and abstract paintings on the walls that look like splatters of paint, adding a burst of color to the room.

“Please take a seat.” Janine gestures to the couch, now empty after she has taken the pile of laundry off it.

“And sorry for the mess. I haven’t had time to clean up lately.”

“It’s fine.” I sit down. “I’ll just go change.”

After she goes, my gaze goes over the table beside the TV. There are pictures lined up there – pictures of Janine, some alone, a few with her father, more with her mother. One of the pictures looks like it was taken at her college graduation and I find myself walking over to it, running my fingers over the photo as an unexpected thought crosses my mind.

I could have been there.

“Please put that down,” Janine says as she walks back into the room. “It’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not,” I answer but put the picture down anyway before turning towards her.

As she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, I take note of how little she has changed over the years. She carries herself with maturity and dignity now, but then, she always looked that way to me. She’s still as slender, still a little shy. She even has that same heart-shaped pendant on. Maybe the only difference is she’s wearing make-up now, a pink blush on her cheeks and darker eyelashes, lips rosy red. It suits her.

“Sorry. It’s a small place,” she apologizes as she folds her arms over her chest, drawing my gaze to her still firm breasts – those haven’t changed either.

“It’s bigger than the room you used to have,” I remind her, walking back to the couch.

She purses her lips and in spite of the tint on her cheeks, I can tell she’s blushing.

She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You still like yellow curtains.” I look at them.

“Yeah.” She looks over her shoulder at them as well. “Some things never change.”

Like how attracted I am to her, I realize.

Indeed, I feel in my twenties again, as reckless and excited as I was that night at the bar of The Metropolitan. As I take a step closer to her, I catch the fruity scent of her perfume and it takes me back.

That’s new too. I like it.

“So are you still with the Marines?” she asks.

“I’m in the Reserves.” I sit down on the couch. “I’m done with fighting. What about you? You’re an accountant now?”

“Yes.” Her hands go behind her. “I quit my job, though.” “Oh.”

“Would you like something to drink? To eat?”

I shake my head. “Maybe we should get down to business.”

“Right.” She sits down.

“So, why would someone like you apply to my ad?”

She fidgets with her pendant as she takes a deep breath. “Because I want to have a child ASAP, too.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“My mother is very sick,” she adds. “I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head. “Her final wish is to see her grandchild.”

I tap my fingers on my knee. “I see.”

“What about you?” she asks, looking at me. “Why did you put up that ad? Why do you want to get married and have a child so quickly?”

I scratch the back of my head. “Well, my father died recently.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Thanks. He died unexpectedly of a stroke.” I scratch the skin between my nose and my upper lip. “One of his last wishes was that I settle down.” It’s not exactly true, of course, but I guess it’s one way of putting it. Why would he put that addendum if he didn’t hope I’d have a family?

“Oh.” Janine grabs the pillow behind her and places it into her lap, hugging it as she sits back. The gesture almost looks maternal, like the pillow could be a little girl or boy.

“Of course, Mom is insisting I fulfill those wishes,” I add, leaning back as well and crossing my leg over my knee, bouncing it. “And I’ve disappointed her far too many times and I’ve been away for so long. I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

Janine exhales. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it seems like we’re in the same position.”

“It does seem so,” I agree. “And since that’s the case…”

I remove my backpack and take out the file case inside it. Then I open the case, taking out one of the sheets of paper and setting it down on the coffee table.

“What is it?” Janine leans over the piece of paper.

“A contract. Basically, you’ll agree to marry me in two weeks and have my child. In return, I’ll give you a generous monthly compensation, provide for your needs, and, of course, support the child. After five years, if you want, we can get a divorce and you can keep the child along with a small fortune.”

She picks up the document, silently reading it. After a few minutes, she puts the paper down, shaking her head.

I turn to her. “Is something wrong?”

“Everything is,” she answers, eyes still on the paper. “You and me using the same dating site and meeting after all these years, leading separate and very different lives yet both desperate to having a child as soon as possible to make our parents happy. What is that?”

I touch my chin. “Sounds like one hell of a coincidence to me.”

She places her hands on her cheeks and shakes her head once more. “It’s so weird. Do you believe in fate?”

“I believe in nature.”

Janine puzzles her eyebrows at me.

“Think about it.” I move closer to her, our thighs touching. “I’m a man. You’re a woman. I need a child. You need a child. Classic biology. We’re both fertile. I’m not good in math, but it seems like an equation that could work.”

I hear her draw a deep breath.

“Plus, you already know how I am in bed.” She blushes again.

Ah, yes. She remembers. Just like I remember that night all too vividly now, that image of her breathless beneath me making me hard.

She gets off the couch, wringing her hands. “It’s crazy.”

“We are.” I shift in my seat to hide my situation even as I try to dismiss it. “But then we were crazy, too, when we decided to climb that tree and look what happened.”

She blushes more furiously then looks away, rubbing her arms and for the first time, I notice how scared she is.

I stand beside her, placing my hand on her shoulder. “Of course, we don’t have to do any of that. I mean, you’re not a prostitute. We can just do IVF.”

“IVF?” Janine’s eyes grow wide.

“In vitro fertilization. You know, you–”

“I know what IVF means,” she cuts me off. “So you’re okay with it?”

She nods but purses her lips, giving me the impression she’s not convinced. Maybe she’s scared.

I take her hand, squeezing it in an effort to stop it from shaking. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. And I promise I’ll take care of you.”

Janine pulls her hand away. “I know.”

I put my hand in my pocket. “So you’re okay with everything?”

She sits down and picks up the document again. “We have to come up with a story about all this because my Mom will freak out if she finds out the truth.”

“Of course.” I wouldn’t want Billy to find out I’m only marrying to secure my inheritance, either. He might contest it if I did, given his current affection for me. “Feel free to throw me your ideas.”

Janine picks up the pen but doesn’t sign, twirling it in her fingers.

“Any other concerns or requests?” I ask her.

She stops twirling the pen. “Maybe just a simple wedding. I don’t like big weddings.”

“Sure.” I sit beside her. “It will just be you and me, our families, a few friends on a secluded beach or a secret garden and then after the ceremony, we can just send everyone away, get drunk, and have some fun like last time.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“You know, climb a tree or two just to see if we’re still good at it.”

Janine laughs but I can tell it’s forced. Her hand is still shaking as she holds the pen above the dotted line.

“Hey.” I reach for her hand again. “We make a good team. You said that once.”

She nods, takes a deep breath, and signs. I let out a sigh of relief. Well, that’s done.

“Now, shall we shake on it? Unless you want to seal it with a kiss.”

Her eyes grow wide. “Just kidding.”

She extends her hand and I shake it, smiling.

I have to admit I was a little apprehensive about this whole arrangement before but now, I’m quite excited. This is Janine, after all. Who would have thought I’d be in this with her of all people?

* * *

I find myself still thinking about her two days later, while at my mandatory support group for post-war soldiers. The men are complete strangers here and they’re lousy story- tellers, so I find it hard to concentrate. Unfortunately, the doctor presiding over the group notices.

“Lt. Siegel,” Dr. Jackson calls for my attention.

She’s a woman in her forties with dark skin and black curls, a psychologist who claims to be an expert on the effects of war. I wonder if she’s seen the things I have.

“Sorry,” I tell her as I take my hands out of the pockets of my sweater and straighten up in my seat. “My mind can’t help but wander back to the battlefield with all these stories I’m hearing.”

“Really?” She folds her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at me.

Fuck. She’s not buying my bullshit.

“Well, why don’t you tell everyone exactly what you’re reliving?” She leans back in her chair, eyes still on me. “I’m sure everyone here would love to hear it.”

A few of the men in the group nod or grunt in agreement.

“Besides, this is your third session,” Dr. Jackson reminds me. “It’s about time you told us your story, don’t you think?”

I pause and look around the room, my eyes meeting some of the others – weary eyes, sleepless eyes, eyes that have seen far too much, eyes wide with curiosity, wondering if mine have seen what they have seen.

Fine. I guess I might as well tell my story.

Dr. Jackson’s hands fall to her lap, the look on her face changing from impatience to sympathy. “Go on.”

I take a deep breath and lean forward. “My name is Dash Siegel. I was in Syria until a few weeks ago.”

“Holy shit,” an older man in a black shirt mutters. Dr. Jackson throws him a warning glance.

I clasp my hands and rub my thumbs. “Yeah. It’s hell out there, worse than what people see on TV.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I lost a lot of friends. Some got blown up right before my eyes. Some got hit by snipers while they were running towards me. I tried to get them, to carry them to safety, but they just ended up dying in my arms.”

I look at my hands, almost seeing the red taint on them. Blood. So much blood.

“How did you survive?” another man, this one bald and probably just a year or two younger than me, asks.

I shrug, wringing my hands. “Wits and luck, I guess.

Thinking on my feet. Being fast.”

“Is that why they called you Dash?” the man with his arm in a sling asks.

I don’t answer. I just keep looking at my hands.

“Tell us about that scar on your arm,” Dr. Jackson prompts.

I look at it – a scar three inches long on my right arm, running from the edge of my sleeve to my elbow. I’ve tried to cover it with a tattoo of a falcon, but I suppose it’s still obvious.

I run my fingers over it. “I was in Kobane. I met two children there – a girl and a boy, Sara and Anas. They were siblings. Around ten and five. They had lost their parents and were searching for their uncle.”

I rest my elbows on my knees, my hands tucked under my chin.

“They didn’t want to approach me at first. Anas was especially wary, horrified by the sight of the weapons I carried. But Sara smiled at me. She knew I wasn’t the enemy.”

I lower my hands between my knees. “I was helping them, trying to get them somewhere safe. Suddenly, bullets started raining on us. I had them hide inside a house, or what was left of it, and shot back at the enemy. Eventually, the bullets stopped coming. I thought we were safe. But just as they ran out of the house, there was an explosion. I tried to shield them and that’s when something sharp cut my arm

– a piece of roof about this big.”

I try to show it with my hands.

“Anas was safe, but Sara…” I run my fingers through my hair. “She died. Another piece of the roof hit her in the head.”

I hear more curses from the group, this time muttered softly.

Dr. Jackson gets out of her seat and walks towards me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“That was very brave, Lt. Siegel – both what you did in Syria and what you did just now talking about it.” She squeezes my shoulder. “I’m very proud of you.”

I say nothing, my head bowed. I don’t feel proud, not after failing to save so many lives. I feel exactly what I put on that ad. Broken.

“Let’s give Lt. Siegel a salute and a round of applause, shall we?” Dr. Jackson goes back to her chair.

I lift my head, seeing some of the salutes and hearing the applause. I just nod.

Dr. Jackson sits down, crossing her legs. “Now, who shall we hear from next?”

* * *

I give a sigh of relief as I stand in the hospital corridor, stop- ping to stretch my arms and legs.

I don’t know why these sessions are required. Isn’t it enough that we’ve lived through horrible experiences in battle once? Why do we have to relive them and worse, share them? Everyone there knows what it’s like to be in a war, to kill someone before they kill you, to lie to your comrade and tell him everything’s alright even when his guts are spilling all over, to watch helplessly as your friend bleeds out and dies in front of you. What’s the use of talking about it?

As a little girl in a wheelchair wheels past me, I find myself staring, remembering Sara. She was just about the same age, her hair the same color – black, except hers had patches of gray from soot and brown from mud. I still remember her eyes – blue and full of hope. I still remember her smile, her…

“Dash?”

I turn my head in the direction of the dulcet voice, which is like a lighthouse calling me away from stormy seas.

“Janine,” I greet her, smiling.

This time, she’s wearing a black cardigan over an apricot dress with a gold belt, the bottom part draped like a tulip and stopping just above her knees.

Elegant and sexy.

“Hey.” She returns the smile, her hands clutching the strap of her purse. “What are you doing here?”

“I… dropped by to visit someone.”

Her eyes narrow in suspicion. It took me too long to say that.

“An old friend who’s recovering from injuries,” I add.

“Oh.” Her brows straighten.

“What about you?” I put my hands in my pocket as I lean on the wall.

Janine glances behind her. “Well, my Mom had a–” “Janine.”

She stops as someone else calls her name – a much older woman wearing a white blouse, a long blue skirt, and a pink bandana around her head, lines under her eyes and around her pale, thin lips.

“Mom.” Janine goes to her side, taking her arm. “I thought you and Dr. Morton still had plenty to discuss. I haven’t bought your medicine yet.”

Mom?

My eyes grow wide. Oh, fuck.

Just when I’m contemplating if I should make my exit, her eyes meet mine.

“Who is this?” she asks as she stares at me curiously. “Um…” Janine tucks some strands of her hair behind her ear as she glances at me. “This is Dash Siegel, my…” She takes a deep breath. “My fiancé.”

“Fiancé?”

Janine narrows her eyes at me.

“Yes, that’s right,” I confirm, stepping beside Janine and putting my arm around her waist. “Janine and I are engaged.”

“Engaged?” Mrs. Davidson’s eyebrows go up, then her gaze dart towards Janine’s bare ring finger. “Since when?”

“For a few days now,” Janine answers, hiding her hand behind her. “I know I’m not wearing the ring, but that’s because I was going to tell you first. I was going to surprise you.”

“Oh, you surprise me, all right.” Mrs. Davidson’s eyebrows furrow.

“But don’t worry, there is a ring,” I assure her. “I’m sure Janine has it in her apartment.” I look at Janine. “Don’t you, babe?”

“Of course,” Janine answers as she returns my gaze, patting my shoulder. “I’m keeping it in a very safe place.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone?” Mrs. Davidson still looks confused, and I can’t blame her. I didn’t want to announce our engagement so sloppily.

“Well, I, um…” Janine swallows. “I didn’t want to burden you with all that right now.”

“Honey, did you think I wouldn’t be able to take this?” Mrs. Davidson looks disappointed. “I could use some good news!”

“Well…”

“Well, now, I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” I supply, bringing Janine’s hand to my lips as I look into her eyes. “Which is good because I can’t wait to marry your daughter.” “I’m sorry but what was your name again?” her mother asks.

“Dash,” Janine and I answer at the same time.

“Well, Dash, I don’t mean to be rude but how long have you known my daughter? How did you even get to know her?”

“Well, I–”

Janine gives me a look of encouragement.

I slip my hand inside my pocket, tapping my thigh. “I met Janine at a bar.”

“A bar?” Mrs. Davidson’s eyes grow wide.

“A dessert bar,” Janine says as she squeezes my hand. “Because I don’t really drink.”

I raise an eyebrow. She doesn’t?

“Dessert Fantasies,” she continues. “I brought home chocolate cupcakes from there once. Dad loved them. Do you remember?”

Mrs. Davidson doesn’t answer, giving me a quizzical look. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who likes cupcakes.”

“Oh, he has a sweet tooth, trust me,” Janine answers before I can, placing her hand on my chest.

“I do,” I second.

“We were reaching for the same cupcake,” Janine continues.

“Salted caramel,” I say at the same time as she says, “Red velvet.”

Oops.

Janine squeezes my hand again.

“Yeah, it was red velvet,” I say, scratching my chin with my other hand. “Which is crazy. I actually prefer the salted caramel, but for some reason, I just had to have a red velvet that time. It must have been fate.”

I pull her closer to me, remembering how she asked me the other night if I believed in fate.

I continue, gazing purposefully into her goldenrod eyes, “I knew from the first moment I saw her.”

“Aww.” Janine gives me a sweet look.

“You just looked at each other and that was it?” Mrs.

Davidson asks incredulously.

“Yes,” I answer as Janine says, “Of course not.”

“There was more to it, I’m sure,” I say quickly, stroking Janine’s hair. “But all I can remember now is how beautiful Janine looked that afternoon, and how we talked until it was evening, and I walked her back to her apartment, and we…”

“Said good night,” Janine finishes, looking at her mother.

“And I thought we’d never see each other again but then he kept calling me and even when he went off to war, he kept in touch.” She taps my chest. “It was sweet.”

I hold her hand. “I couldn’t have survived all those years without you.”

“You went to war?” Mrs. Davidson asks me, concerned. “You’re a soldier?”

“A Marine,” Janine and I answer at the same time.

“I was deployed in a couple of places but I’m home now,” I explain to ease her mother’s worry. “And the first thing I did when I got home was to propose to Janine. And she accepted.”

“Of course I did.” Janine gives me a sweet smile as she touches my cheek. “Why on earth would I say no?”

I kiss Janine’s hand again. “And that, Mrs. Davidson – or should I say Mom? – is our story.”

“Yeah,” Janine agrees, nodding. “That’s pretty much it.”

Mrs. Davidson touches her chin. “Well, that’s a nice story.”

“A great story,” I say. Janine glances at me.

“I wish I’d heard it before. But I am happy for you both.” Mrs. Davidson nods. “I’m just still in shock, I guess.”

“It’s perfectly understandable,” Janine tells her. “Please take your time to let everything sink in,” I add. She just gives another nod, looking away.

“I have to go,” I say, letting go of Janine’s hand so I can offer mine to her mother. “But I have to say it’s good to finally meet you… Mom.”

Mrs. Davidson shakes my hand weakly. “Olivia will do.” I turn to Janine. “I’ll see you soon, babe.”

“You will. Just—”

The rest of her sentence disappears as I kiss her, one arm around her back to pull her against me.

It’s just supposed to be a quick smooch, the icing on the cake to make it look, well, like a cake, but I find myself unable to pull my lips away from hers, addicted to how soft they feel and the taste of her lipstick.

Finally, Janine pulls away though from the dazed look on her face and her red cheeks, I can tell she enjoyed the kiss thoroughly. That can’t be fake.

Just like the stirring in my crotch can’t be fake.

Fuck. I’ve forgotten how amazing it felt to kiss her. “Well, bye.” I force myself to walk away from her. “Wait.”

I stop at once, looking at her expectantly.

She points to her lips. “I think you have some of my lipstick on.”

Oh.

I quickly wipe it off before turning on my heel, feeling her stare on my back. I keep walking until I’m outside the hospital where I pause to take a big gulp of air as I run my hands through my hair.

What the hell just happened?

I can’t believe I just met Janine’s mother and I’m not sure she believes our story.

Well, at least, she knows about us now.

I walk to my car only to stop again when another realization hits me.

Oh, fuck. I need to introduce Janine to my mother too.