Chapter Thirty-Eight
Taylor
I’d had no luck convincing my father to let Dylan and I go to the prom. I’m sure he’d heard stories about how girls lost their virginity on prom night. Well, that ship had sailed. Of course, my father didn’t know that. He wouldn’t suspect.
I turned to my mother for help. I wanted her to see what a good guy Dylan was, that he needed to stay, and that at least he was a known variable in the dating world. At least they knew who he was.
So, I decided to make my mother feel sorry for him – to realize that he was a good guy, despite where he’d come from. As a mother, her heart had to go out for his situation.
To do this, I asked my mother to go for a drive.
“Me?” she said.
“Yes, you, Mom.”
She looked at me as if I had two heads. “You sure you don’t want to go with your father?”
“No, Mom, you.”
“Okay.”
I directed her as she drove. I wanted her to see Dylan’s trailer. I wanted her to see what we’d saved him from.
“Why are we going down this rutted driveway?” she said. “Who lives here?”
“I’ll explain when we get there.”
She pressed her lips together, but kept driving. When we came in view of the trailer, she stopped the car. “Why are we here, Taylor? I don’t have time for games.”
“No, games. I want to show you something.”
I urged her to park closer, so she did. We climbed out of the car. I retrieved Dylan’s spare key, then unlocked the front door. We stepped into the place that hadn’t been aired for a few days. It stunk of gasoline from Dylan’s uniforms. My mother had made him take off his uniform in the garage his first night working and living with us. He kept sweats in the garage so he wouldn’t have to walk through the house in his underwear.
Not that I would mind.
“Who lives here?” my mother said, standing in the doorway.
“This is Dylan’s trailer. Or where he was living.”
“Why did you bring me here?”
“Because I want you to see what will happen if you kick him out. This is the best there is to offer him. After it’s sold, he has no place to live.”
“Then he needs to keep his nose clean.”
“He has been, Mom. I’m the one who has been screwing up. Not him. I don’t have anything to lose but privileges.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I don’t want him to be homeless because I’ve been stupid. I’m trying to abide by the rules, but I love him, Mom.”
Her mouth opened slightly at my revelation. I don’t think she realized until that moment that I had real feelings for him. I think she thought I was just playing. I had to prove to her that I wasn’t playing, that I was growing up.
She leaned against the closed door behind her. “Did I ever tell you about the first boy I loved?”
“No, Mom.”
“Your father wasn’t my first love and that’s okay. He’s my last.”
She glanced around as if she’d been here before, or she was going somewhere in her mind.
“Go ahead,” I said.
I leaned against the back of the couch. Waiting. I didn’t know much about my mother’s past.
“I never told you about my childhood, either.”
“No,” I said.
I knew lots about my father’s family and how he grew up. My mother was always tight-lipped about what went on in her childhood.
“I grew up in a trailer just like this.”
I gasped. I never would have guessed. My mother was frugal when she could be, but she’d never spared any expense for me. “Okay.”
“I mean, just like this. Same lack of space. Same smell, almost.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Never thought about your mother that way. My parents loved me. There were happy times, but I was always eager to be out. I never wanted to be reminded that we were poor.”
I would never have known. “Then why didn’t you have compassion for Dylan?”
“I’ve never thought about that trailer once I graduated from college. I had a good job. I met your father, who had a good job. I never was poor again. My parents died not long after I graduated. They both died in a fire in that trailer. I figured if I never thought about it again, I’d never be touched by it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I hated being poor. I wanted to forget that I was ever that way. With Dylan in our lives, I had to remember.”
I walked over and hugged her. “He’s a good person even if he’s poor.”
“I know that. At least, some part of me knows that. Not that I’m thrilled that you have feelings for him.”
I stepped away from her. “Think about it this way. You know more about him than you would know about any other guy I could date. You know where he came from. You know his influences. You know that he wants to do anything he can to stay in our house, so he isn’t going to do anything to hurt me.”
My mother looked down at me as if she had never seen me before. “You’re growing up.”
“I am. I’m glad you noticed.”
“You really care about him?”
“I do. He’s good to me. He’s more mature than the other guys at high school.”
“That’s good and bad.”
I knew she was talking about a physical relationship. He would want that. Well, I wanted it, too, but that didn’t need to be said here. “You need to trust me. You need to trust Dylan. We both have plans for our future and neither of us want to mess that up.”
She smiled. “I guess I have to let you grow up.”
“I thought you were excited about it. You’re starting something new,” I said.
“It’s bittersweet, Taylor.”
I nodded, understanding. “Now, how do we get Daddy to let Dylan take me to the prom?”
***
My mother and I managed to convince my father to let Dylan take me to the prom. He’d even taken Dylan out to rent a tuxedo. My mother and I had gone shopping, and I ended up with a green dress that didn’t show too much.
It had spaghetti straps, which was a compromise from the strapless one I wanted. I still loved the dress. After my mother helped me with my hair, she stood behind me as we both gazed into the mirror.
“You are no longer a little girl,” she told me.
Guess she wasn’t ready for me to grow up. “Thank you for helping me convince Daddy to let Dylan take me.”
“You’re welcome. Now, he’s waiting downstairs. Nervous. He gets an audience when he sees you.”
I glanced back at my reflection once, happy with how I looked. I almost didn’t recognize myself.
My mother opened the door for me. I grabbed my clutch that matched my dress, then walked down the steps. Dylan was pacing at the bottom. My father leaned on the doorway to the living room a small smile on his face. When he looked up at me, his smile broadened.
I stopped hallway down, and Dylan finally looked my way. His lips were open and I knew he was surprised. His eyes widened as he said, “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, kitten. You do look beautiful.”
We took pictures out on the lawn. Dylan was a gentleman and held the door to the limousine that my father had rented for us. He held my hand the whole way to the venue.
“I can’t stop staring at you, Taylor. You look amazing. Awesome.”
“You look pretty handsome, too, Dylan. You clean up well.”
He laughed. “Your father had to help a little.”
Now I laughed. “At least he did. He could have protested.”
“Oh, he let me know that we were to come home after the dance and that if we were going somewhere tomorrow, we weren’t staying over.”
I rested my head against his shoulder. “I don’t need any of that. Just you.”
“That’s sweet, Taylor.”
I shrugged.
The ballroom was full of teenage couples. The tables were decorated with blue and white balloons, our school colors. I couldn’t believe the day had finally come. This was the last big event of our senior year.
After this, it was only a few weeks until graduation.
I held Dylan’s hand as we entered the room. I heard a squeal and was hugged fiercely by Helena. I looked her over. “You look pretty amazing.”
She smiled. “You look beautiful, too. I grabbed your place cards. You’re sitting with us.”
“Cool.”
She wore a dark blue dress that accented her eyes. Cole, her date, wore a matching cummerbund. Those two had met at one point during the drama of Dylan and I, and they’d hit it off. I told Cole that if he didn’t treat her properly, he would have me to answer to.
So far, he’d been a very good boyfriend to her.
“Do we get pictures first?” I said.
“Yeah. Cole and I got ours,” Helena said.
I turned to Dylan. “Let’s get this over with. I don’t know how good I’m going to look after I’m dancing.”
“Dancing?”
I laughed. “Yes. We’ll be dancing.”
“Did I agree to that?”
I laughed and swatted his arm. “It’s implied when you take someone to a prom.”
“Oh, okay. Didn’t know that.”
The smile on his face told me he was teasing me.
We did the pictures, and then there was a slow song. Dylan held me as if I were china. “Why didn’t you run for prom queen?” he asked me.
I shrugged. “Didn’t seem important with all that was going on with you.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Nope. I get to dance with only you all night instead of the prom king.”
“I like that idea.” He nuzzled my neck. “This is kind of nice. Kind of fun.”
“Better than you thought?”
“Much better, but I think that has to do with my date,” he said.
That filled me with such a warm feeling. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, but I didn’t think I was ready to be that vulnerable. Yet. Maybe by the end of the night.
The prom queen was crowned and the fast music started. I dragged Dylan out on the dance floor.
“But they just served dessert,” he said.
“It’ll be there when you get back,” I said. “I want to see you dance.”
“I’m not very good.”
He actually was okay; he had more rhythm than a lot of guys on the dance floor. He had nothing to be embarrassed about. We didn’t sit down for three songs. Then I needed a drink.
The cake was gone. He looked like a puppy who had been kicked.
“I’ll bake you a chocolate cake tomorrow.”
Dylan’s face lit up. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Okay, then.”
And for one quick moment, I saw the teenage Dylan. Not the serious grownup one that had been around lately. Not that I minded, either.
“Last song of the night, girls and boys,” the disc jockey said.
I turned back to Dylan. “One more.”
He kissed my nose. “Of course.”
He held me close again, and I never wanted the night to end. His warm body was pressed against mine, his bow tie was in his pocket, and his sleeves were rolled up.
He was all mine. At least, for now.
When the song ended, he led me to the table. We gathered our things said goodnight to everyone. I really didn’t want to go back to reality. This had been wonderful.
I held onto Dylan’s arm, my high heels in my hand. “This was great. Thank you.”
He smiled down at me. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
I stopped him before we climbed into the limousine.
“Is something wrong?” he said.
“No. I just wanted to tell you that I love you.”
His smile lit up his face. “I love you, too.”
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SEAL’D BY HIM
By Naomi Niles
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Naomi Niles
One
Dwayne
I knew that we were flying through the air, but I couldn’t fully convince myself that I was in a plane. The light hit the seat in front of me and took on an elusive quality as if it were a mirage reflecting off of the Afghani sands below us.
Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack.
The sound seemed to rise up out of nowhere, almost like I had been dreaming and now I was waking up.
Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack.
I was dreaming. I couldn’t imagine how it happened. The sound of the helicopter rotors drowned out everything, even my thoughts. I had to focus. There was a group of children holed up in a school less than a hundred miles from where we were flying now. It was my job to go in and take out the Taliban operatives holding them prisoner before they killed the kids.
I tensed up and waited, watching as the Afghani desert passed below us. “Go! Go! Go!”
I jumped out of the helicopter, my body suspended in that split second before gravity caught me and pulled me back down to the ground. I was staring at a patchy, yellow canvas with jagged gray lines etched in the sand. They called it Allah’s cat box, the place that he forgot.
I could believe that. Nothing had changed there since Biblical times. The people still dressed in long pieces of cloth draped around their body. Their houses were crumbling mud brick, and they survived off of nothing but opium, wilted pot, and bread so tough it scraped against your throat going down. Life was cheap and fragile, not something to be cherished because it wasn’t worth living.
It was no wonder the Taliban didn’t have a problem using children as human shields. Everyone was disposable.
The next thing I knew, I was leaning against the back wall of a crumbling school, a concrete building with barred windows and a caved-in roof that’d long since been abandoned. I could hear the sounds of children, running around in the room on the other side, laughing and playing.
No, I couldn’t think of the children. I was in the plane. I told myself that over and over. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. I tried to see the rows of seats in front of me as part of the material universe. They existed. I could touch them, and I could smell the air around me – but I could also feel the dust blowing into my eyes as I loaded my weapon.
I couldn’t do this. I reached out to touch the headrest in front of me. Instead, I realized I was reaching out to the Afghani children staring at me, all lined up in a row, their eyes wide, like they thought I was going to shoot them.
I shouldn’t have burst in. That was stupid. The children were meant to be a deterrent. The Taliban knew we couldn’t bomb the base and risk losing our rapport with their villages. We had to go in after the kids and hope that we didn’t get killed in doing so.
The room was dark, save for the light coming in from a hole in the concrete roof. Behind the children, a tall shape was leaning against the back wall, like a pillar, black, save for the sheer fabric around her eyes allowing the woman to see through her costume.
“Are you really going to kill these children?” I asked her in broken Pashto.
My response was a hairy hand reaching out from under the burka holding an armed grenade. I looked at it, weighed my options, and decided to run, all in the time span of less than two seconds. I barely managed to get behind a crumbling, mud brick wall before I heard the crack, like the earth itself had been split in two.
“No!” My throat still hurt from the force of that scream.
“Howell!” I was back on the plane, and my commanding officer Jacobs was sitting next to me. “Get it together, soldier. You can’t let that happen.”
“What are you talking about?” I never told anyone that I was shell-shocked.
“You just yelled.” Everyone was looking at me. My head fell into my hands. “You’re going to need to learn how to stay in the moment if you want to make it on the outs.”
I nodded my head.
“How are you feeling about the discharge?”
“Jesus,” I leaned back against the headrest. “I’ve been a SEAL since I was eighteen.”
“You’re institutionalized. Reintegrating back into civilian life is a process. It won’t just happen overnight. Now, I need to know that you’re not going to have another flashback and start attacking people or something.”
“What? You’ve known me for years. Have I ever done anything that stupid?”
“No, but I’m not taking any chances. Drink this,” she handed me a shooter of whiskey, “and calm yourself down.”
“Alright.” I downed the shot, ignoring the sickening feeling of the alcohol sliding down my throat.
“What are you planning on doing about work?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“I thought so.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a card. “My brother runs a security company in Chattanooga. When I heard that he needed help, your name was the only one that came to mind.” She handed me the card. In the middle, etched in dark green letters were the words, “Granger Security.” I stashed the card in my pocket.
“Sounds like a lot of standing around and doing nothing.”
“It’s something to consider.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s a good job. They pay well, and you’ll be treated with the respect you deserve. If you want, I can call him when we land and set you up right away.”
“I don’t see how I can turn down something like that.”
“Smart boy.” She patted me on the shoulder and walked back to her seat.
I closed my eyes and rested my head back, determined to get some rest. If I could get rid of this panic, slow my breath, and calm my heart, then maybe I could stay in the moment. It’d worked before. I just had to perfect the technique.
I focused straight ahead and tried to get lost in the rhythm of the in and out. I could feel the world sliding away and my muscles relaxing. I smiled. It was working.
I’d learned the trick from one of the other recruits. They were one of those semi-profound eastern philosophy types. They called it mindfulness meditation. It was a way for people to turn their mind away from anything that was distracting them from being fully present in the moment.
I’d focus on my breath for a few seconds, then catch my thoughts drifting. Every time I did that, I thought, Breathe, like a mantra to bring my focus back to my breath and the world around me. I stuck with it until I started to forget where I was and drifted off to sleep.
“Hey.” The sound of Jason’s voice jolted me awake. I opened my eyes. He was standing in the aisle. “Scoot over.”
I did. “I was almost asleep.”
“Sorry, Jesus. Can’t expect me to sit here and twiddle my thumbs the entire flight.”
“You are the worst partner imaginable.”
He laughed. “What’d sour pussy have to say?”
“Her brother owns this security company in Chattanooga. She wants me to go work for him.” I sighed.
“She wants your jock.” He elbowed me, and I scooted to the edge of my seat away from him.
“I’m sure that’s the last thing on her mind.”
“Please, a sour old bat like that — she’s probably got a vibrator stash the size of an armory.” He laughed at his own joke.
I was getting tired of seeing his bald red head. “I don’t know.”
“I can’t wait to leave, man.” He made a sound like his body was deflating. “The second we do, I’m going to find the nearest titty bar and drink until I forget where I am.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“I’ll bet you can’t wait to find something to sink your dick into.”
“Guess so.” I leaned back and closed my eyes.
“Isn’t it crazy? We’re leaving at the same time.”
“Yeah… I’m getting tired, man. I think I’m going to pass out.”
“Ah,” he groaned, “you’re no fun.” He finally got up and walked back to his seat.
Jason had attached himself to me the moment he met me. At first I thought he was just lonely or upset about everything that we’d seen in Afghanistan, so I gave him some slack, but over time my patience started to wear thin. He would keep me up late at night asking about my life. At first, I didn’t tell him much, just quick one or two word responses, but he would keep pushing until I had to answer just to get him to shut up long enough to let me sleep.
That was a mistake. The second I’d opened my mouth, he latched onto me like we were best friends. He followed me around everywhere, constantly yammering about one thing or another. He was vulgar and moody with the sense of humor of a grade schooler, laughing about farts and talking about boobs. I couldn’t respect a man like that.
I was relieved when the Navy announced my discharge. I was certain that I’d finally get a chance to get away from him. That lasted for about three hours. Then he ran into the dorms to tell me that he was getting out the same day. Now, I was stuck listening to him talk about everything he wanted to do and how I should visit and drink with him and all the things that we could do together.
I almost told him to leave me alone when I first met him, but it occurred to me that he would probably be hurt by it. He was sensitive. He internalized everything, and I needed to be able to rely on him when I was in danger. Now that we were leaving and it didn’t matter, I decided to keep quiet to avoid having to hurt his feelings.
I went back to focusing on my breathing again, letting my thoughts pass me by with sense of detachment. I grew more and more distant as the time passed and eventually drifted off to sleep.