I keep expecting her to show up.

I’m seated in a folding chair, behind a long folding table, signing copies of my book for people.

The talk went well, I think, but sometimes I feel like people are just responding to my supposed “celebrity,” and not what I’m actually saying. I’m not sure if they’re listening to what I’m saying, if they’re absorbing the message.

The line in front of me keeps dwindling with each book I sign.

I look up expectantly at each new person, expecting it to be Hana. But she’s not there.

Finally, the line is gone. The last person has left. And she’s still not here. No sign of her.

I excuse myself from a rather one-sided conversation with the store owner and step outside, looking up and down the street. She’s nowhere to be seen.

What made her leave? I thought she wanted to talk. I saw something in her eyes, some interest.

She was even more beautiful than I remembered. She still looks absolutely incredible. Her body’s matured in only the best possible way.

I can still remember that night. I shouldn’t have walked off like that. I replay it over and over in my mind. I have for years.

The memory of entering her sweet pussy, of coming inside her—it was my fantasy jacking material for all my years in the Seals. When I had some private time, that is, which wasn’t very often.

It gets me hard just thinking about her, my cock starting to swell.

I don’t have her phone number. I don’t have a way to contact her. I don’t know what she does for work, or where she works. I don’t even know where she lives.

She’s become a ghost again in my life. I saw her for just a moment. It was just a glimpse.

Feelings of lost time come sparking up through me, and I can’t control them. The feeling of remorse comes at me hard, hitting me like a ton of bricks.

Suddenly, I realize that I really need to see her again. I need to talk to her. This little glimpse of her today awakened something inside of me that was lying almost dormant, but not quite.

Clouds seem to pass momentarily over the sun, darkening the street where I stand.

I don’t feel like heading back into the bookstore. There’s a whole afternoon to kill before my next talk and signing.

She’s somewhere out there.

But maybe she’s married. Maybe she’s got a long term boyfriend.

And who am I? I’m here for a day, an old flame. Or, more accurately, an old one night stand from years ago.

But I know there’s something there, and it’s not just on my end. I saw the hungry look in her eyes. She needs something. And she needs it from me.

In the rental car, I find myself driving by my dad’s old house. So many memories there—and so many of them are of him sitting there in front of the TV, or of him yelling things at me.

I pull up to where our old mailbox is and gaze at the house. My dad never fixed it up. The paint was always peeling off and the windows didn’t have shutters. It used to have a barren look to it. The only interesting thing about it was my old Mustang that sat in the driveway, gleaming, perfectly waxed and perfectly maintained.

I loved that old car. I sold it the day I joined the Navy. There wasn’t any turning back for me and I knew it. Most guys kept their cars at their parents’ houses or put them in storage. But those were the guys who couldn’t hack it in training. Me? I knew I was going to be a Seal from the moment I decided on it. There weren’t any other choices in my mind—at least not the way I was thinking about things at the time.

Whoever the new owners are, they’ve fixed the house up. It’s got completely new siding and a new roof by the looks of it. It’s the perfect picturesque suburban house. A happily full family probably lives here.

That’s not the way things were for me. Sure, I had a great time in high school, but I avoided being at home when I could.

I avoid thinking about my dad and his death. There’s no point wasting tears on him. He lived the way he wanted to, or the way he knew how.

There’s a pain there, though, deep inside me. I’ll have to deal with it at some point. It’ll come boiling up somehow, somewhere. But for now I push it aside.

“Noah!” calls out someone. It’s a familiar voice.

I turn to look, and there’s a car parked on the other side of the road.

A guy’s getting out of it. Blonde hair, button down blue shirt, starched khaki pants, shining shoes.

He looks like a typical suburban dad. Who would I know who looks like that?

He’s too young to be an old neighbor from back in the day, at least not one I could remember.

But he seems to know me. He’s calling my name.

“Noah!” he says, waving at me.

I stare blankly at him.

He looks both ways before crossing the street, even though there are no cars approaching.

“Noah! It’s me, Pat! Pat Blakely! I knew it was you even from across the street, even with that crazy haircut. What’s up, buddy?”

“Holy shit,” I say, reaching out to shake his hand.

Pat and I played football together. He was my wide receiver, and we partied together plenty of times.

Stepping out of the car, he sizes me up. We couldn’t look more different right now. We’ve clearly chosen different paths in life.

While he looks straight laced and perhaps a little geeky in his khakis, I’m wearing jeans and a tight t-shirt. My arms are covered in tattoos now. My hair is short. My whole look is hardcore.

Pat has perfectly combed hair, in complete contrast to the huge mane he used to rock, down to almost his shoulders.

“Damn, man,” I say. “It’s been forever. What the hell happened to you, man? The last time I saw you, you were breaking the record for world’s most insane keg stand.”

Pat chuckles. “I settled down, I guess. Got a job at a bank, you know how it goes.”

I nod my head knowingly, but in reality I don’t know how it goes. I’ve been away for so long that I feel like a stranger in my own town. I haven’t even been in the country for the better part of the last four years.

“What are you doing around here?”

“I live here. Christy and I bought a house here… She’s pregnant.”

He beams as he tells me the news, as if it’s the best thing that could ever happen in the world. But I distinctly remember him drunkenly telling me how he’d never settle down, how he’d never have kids or get married.

“Nice,” I say, feigning a smile. “Congratulations, man.”

“Thanks,” says Pat, still beaming. “I’d love for you to meet her. Why don’t you come to dinner tonight? She’s making a great vegan meal, one of her specialties.”

“I don’t know, man,” I say. “I don’t think that’s really my scene.”

Pat looks a little hurt, but he nods.

This is not the Pat I know.

“Anyway,” I add. “I can’t. I’m giving a talk at the bookstore. But hey, why don’t we head down to Buckeye’s and have a beer or two?”

Buckeye’s was the place we always used to sneak into. Or we’d loiter outside and try to get drunks to buy us alcohol for our parties.

“I don’t know,” says Pat, looking down at his wristwatch with a leather band. “Christy’s getting home soon, and I was supposed to mow the lawn.”

“Screw the lawn,” I say. “Come have a beer with your old buddy.”

“I don’t know. Christy really wanted that lawn mowed. She’s been on my back about it all week.”

“Come on, man,” I say. “Where’s the Pat that I know?”

I can see something changing in his expression, in his face.

He looks so much like Jimmy Stewart right now that I almost expect him to say, “Aw, shucks,” when he finally caves in.

But instead he just says, “OK, let’s go.”

“Hop in,” I say.

He gets in the passenger seat, and I start driving before he’s got his seatbelt on.

“You still got that Mustang?” says Pat.

He seems a little nervous, and he’s apparently trying to do what so many nervous people do when there’s the potential for silence—and that is making small talk. I figure I probably intimidate him a little. There’s something about being in the military that does that to people. And there’s definitely something about being a Seal that intimidates people.

“Nope,” I say. “Sold it when I joined up.”

“You’ve been away for a while, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. “A while. It’s been a while. Everything’s different.”

“I saw you on TV talking about your book,” says Pat.

I nod my head.

Things aren’t clear in my head for me right now. I’ve got her on my mind and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to rid myself of her presence there. I don’t understand how she has this power over me. I fucked her once. That was it. I’ve done that to plenty of women. But none of them have caught my thoughts up like this. None of them brought my thoughts to them again and again.

“You ever see Hana around?” I say.

“Hana from high school?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure, I see her. She’s a graphic designer now. She comes into the bank to deposit her checks.”

“You work as a teller or something? You’re cashing Hana’s checks for her?” What’s become of the world, is what I want to scream. Everything has changed since I’ve been gone. Everyone I used to know has taken the roles that they swore they’d never take. At least that’s the case if I can judge by Pat alone. But I have a feeling that I can.

“Yup,” says Pat happily. “And I’m on track to getting benefits and everything. I’m going to work my way up.”

I nod my head. Honestly, this doesn’t interest me in the slightest. It interests me about as much as going over to Pat’s house for dinner with him and his wife.

“So you see her a lot, then?” I say.

Pat’s starting to relax a little, and he laughs. “You got a thing for her or something? She’s single, if you’re looking.”

I shake my head. “No,” I say. “We sort of… dated or something right before I left for the Seals. I was just wondering what happened to her. And I ran into her today, and she said she’d stay to talk. But when I was done with my talk, she was long gone.”

“Probably her kid,” says Pat.

“What?”

“Probably her kid, you know. She probably had to go pick her kid up from daycare or something. She’s got a four year old. He’s really cute. He’s always coming into the bank with her.”

“Hang on,” I say. “She’s got a kid?”

“Yeah.”

“But she’s single?”

“Yeah. No ring, no nothing.”

I sigh.

I can’t believe she has a kid.

This changes everything.