Chapter Nine
Dwayne
I was alone in my new house. Everything was quiet, tense, and empty. If this was my new reality, then there would be no going back to civilian life. It wasn’t a home. I wasn’t sure I even knew what that meant, just what it wasn’t. I had an old TV sitting on a milk crate in the front of the room and a pair of lawn chairs sitting across from it. I’d purchased them a few hours earlier just so I could have something to sit on until I could get furniture. Now, I felt like an idiot having them there at all.
I sighed in frustration and walked down the hall into my bedroom, where I’d setup my old twin bed from high school, along with the dresser from my old room. There was a pile of clothes sitting in the corner that needed to be folded, and I had nothing but time, so I sat down, working through the socks, boxers, then shirts and finally, pants. I didn’t have the foresight to purchase hangers, so I had to fold them up and put them in the dresser.
I took my time making sure that they were all neat, perfectly folded, in the place where they belonged before I stepped back to get a look at them. It was perfect, of course, but I still had an hour before I had to pick up Gillian. I was losing my mind, nitpicking at every little thing.
I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes. I had to stop thinking about her. It didn’t matter how wonderful she looked in those shorts, how she had attached herself to me immediately, or how when she smiled, her cheeks folded in, creating the perfect dimples.
I stood up, groaning. This wasn’t me. I was the pragmatist, not the romantic. I was the guy that talked people out of the clouds and made sure that they saw the harsh truth before they got themselves hurt.
It was probably because it was my first date since I was a teenager. I didn’t get many chances to go off base. Most of the time, the only women I saw were covered from head to toe. It only made sense that I’d be sexually frustrated, but this wasn’t just about sex.
Gillian was vibrant and bubbly. She had a way of making me smile when all I wanted to do was punch everyone else around me. It was infectious, irresistible, and I wanted more. I stood up and checked myself in the mirror mindlessly.
I was wearing a white button up with the sleeves rolled up just enough to emphasize my muscles, and a pair of dark, fade wash jeans that highlighted all of the right areas. I looked good, but I wasn’t satisfied. I’d never be fully satisfied.
I checked my phone again. It’d only been ten minutes since the last time I checked. Even if I left in fifty minutes, I would still get to her house early. I didn’t want to seem desperate. I’d just have to wait.
I took out my laptop and started looking for something to watch online. I settled on a World War II documentary, shut off the lights, and propped myself up in bed, determined to cut off all distraction. But I couldn’t focus on what the narrator was saying. All I could think of was her face when she handed me the napkin and how scared she’d seemed.
She wanted me. I shouldn’t have had to worry, but I was worried. I could be intense and closed off. I didn’t want to alienate her. I promised myself that I would try to make conversation and open up to her.
But what would I talk about? Al Qaeda? The various uses for goat’s milk in the Afghani desert? What if we didn’t have anything in common? Why did I care so much? I went back and forth between the movie and my thoughts, hoping to find some peace in between, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep myself from worrying.
Finally, five minutes before I was supposed to leave, I gave up and called Gillian. “Hey,” she answered. “I’m ready. Are you?”
“Yeah, I was just about to head out.”
“Great. I’ll see you in a minute.”
I rushed to her house, weaving through traffic like a madman, determined not to keep her waiting. When I got to her complex, she was standing outside, wearing a tight black top and pants that hugged her body in all the right places. I could already feel my cock getting hard.
When she got in, I caught a whiff of her perfume, like a meadow of flowers. “Hello, how are you?”
“I’m good.” I got the car going. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m starving.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her looking at me. I tried not to let on that I noticed.
“Good because I’ve got the perfect place. I hope you like Cajun.”
“I could die for some etouffee.”
“That’s exactly what I planned on ordering.”
“I’ll bet you haven’t had good Cajun in a while.”
“I haven’t. If I have to even look at another hummus plate again, I am going to kill somebody.”
She laughed. “I’ve never tried Arabic food before. Is it any good?”
“Not where I was.” She looked out the window as I pulled onto the freeway, watching as the city passed us by, until we reached our exit and I pulled up to the restaurant. It was a small shack with faded white paint and a ship’s steering wheel on the front door.
I had the waitress bring us in back to a private booth, and we ordered. The entire time, from the minute we got out of the car, till after we sat down and started waiting for our food, Gillian kept looking at me, sizing my body up. I loved it.
“Are you glad to be out?” she finally asked me.
“It’s weird. You get used to things being one way and then everything changes. I’m told it takes some time to get used to it.”
“I can’t imagine what it was like for you.”
“There were high and low points. I don’t regret enlisting, though. I got to see a lot and learn about the world.”
“Tell me something about the world.”
“Hmm,” I thought about it for a moment. “Americans tend to think everyone has the same standards of living. We all have houses and cars and electricity and running water, but in reality, we’re lucky. I’ve seen people living like they would thousands of years ago. It was shocking, and it still shocks me just how little the people had and how bad their lives were.”
“You’re talking about Afghanistan?”
“Yes.”
When our food came, I focused on it. I didn’t want to alienate her, and a conversation like that could easily take a controversial turn. I wasn’t about to let things go down that path. We sat in a tense silence while I tried to think of something to say — anything, just to end the standoff.
“Are you all moved into your house?” she finally asked.
“Yeah, I only have the things I brought from my parents, though. I still have to make it a home.”
“You’ll get it. Everyone has that problem at first, then it starts to come together. I’ll bet you’re doing all this for the first time, aren’t you?”
I didn’t want to admit to that, but she’d know that I was lying if I denied it. “It’s easy stuff.”
“I know this sounds strange, but I’m kind of in a bad situation,” she said, changing the topic.
“Really?” I stopped eating.
“I mean, I’m not in trouble or anything. It’s just that my friend Lexie wants me to go to this speed dating thing with her, and I really don’t want to do it, but she doesn’t want to be alone with the guys. I was thinking maybe you might like to come along.”
I went back to eating and focused on my plate. I felt like a complete idiot. She thought of me as friend, not somebody she could date. I was too serious for her, too stoic and weird. She’d want somebody with more energy that could keep up with her infectious attitude. That wasn’t me.
“I could go,” I said, mostly because I didn’t want to seem rude.
“Really? Thank you so much. I don’t want to be there alone, either.”
“I don’t blame you — all those guys.”
We finished quickly and left soon after. I didn’t know what to say to her or how to act. I’d made a fool out of myself, and now I was just trying to cover up my intentions. She didn’t say much on the way back to her place. I was convinced at that point that I’d messed everything up. I just wanted it to be over. If she didn’t want me, there was no point in drawing it out.
When we stopped at her house, she turned to me. “Thanks for dinner. I had a lot of fun.”
“Me, too.” I tried my best to smile. I had been so sure that she wanted me.
“Well, good night.” She got out.
I drove away, ready to hide under my covers like a scared child. I just hoped she didn’t think I was some desperate creep trying to relive a high school crush.