That made me laugh, and some detached part of my brain wondered if it was a little too loud.
“Whenever I’ve ordered them anyplace else, they’re never as good. And if anybody saw me drinking it . . . my reputation would be shot. Our captain once said that real men drink whiskey sours, so . . .”
“So that’s what you drink in public?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t really drink in public because of that whole thing with my parents. The last thing I would need is to be out of control where somebody could take a picture of me. But it’s what I drink when I hang out with my army buddies.”
I took another drink. It really was improving with familiarity. “Do you see them very often? The guys from your unit?”
“My company, not my unit. I’m one of the few bachelors in the group. So they’re busy. I’m busy. Our lives are pretty radically different, but we do try to keep in touch via email and text. It helps with the guilt.”
“The guilt?” I questioned. “Why would you feel guilty?”
“From leaving them early. I really struggled with it in the beginning, and it still flares up from time to time. That I was pretending to be a warrior in movies while they were actually fighting. Logically, I understand that it wasn’t my fault and things just happen, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling what you feel.”
If anyone knew that you couldn’t stop feeling what you feel, it was me. And this was actually a really good drink. Why had I thought it tasted bad before? “You did what you were supposed to do.”
“I know that, but it’s like getting cast in a part, going to all the rehearsals and all the fittings, and working with your director and castmates. Then it’s opening night and it’s time for you to go onstage, but you’re the only one who isn’t allowed. You’ve put in all this time and effort, but you don’t get to see any fruits from your labors.”
“You sound like you miss it.”
“I miss a lot of things about it. The structure, the discipline, how everything had meaning and purpose. I miss my buddies the most.”
“That makes sense,” I said. “And back to your guilt thing, you didn’t ask to get blown up and sent home. And I hope those friends tell you that.”
“They’re some of the best men I’ve ever met, and yes, they’ve done their best to help mitigate my guilt. They’ve been some of my biggest cheerleaders and encouraged me to keep making movies and helping veterans out. But if I’m being honest, I’m the one who envies them. They’ve shown me what I’m missing out on.”
“The white picket fences and family?”
“Yes.” He took a long drink this time, nearly finishing it off. “Speaking of family, you should tell me about your parents.”
“That was a very smooth transition,” I assured him. “Not at all awkward.”
“Thank you.”
“Why do you want to know about them?”
“Finding out about someone’s parents makes you understand them better. What makes them tick.”
I had another quick drink. “And you like understanding people better?”
“It’s kind of my job. Plus, I want to get to know you better, chum. Also, I told you all about my dysfunctional parents.”
That was true, and it seemed only fair that I do the same. “Well, Dr. Freud, my story is fairly boring. I’m close with my mom, who was pretty much a single parent my entire life. She and my dad got divorced when I was two years old.” My glass was nearly empty, which seemed very sad to me.
“Why did they split up?”
“Mostly because my father was a player who wasn’t ready to settle down and then cheated on her. I also think it had something to do with my older sister dying as a baby. From SIDS,” I added before he asked how. The few people I’d ever told about my sister always asked how it happened. “I think I was supposed to replace her and it didn’t really work that way. Sometimes when I was younger, I used to blame myself for not being enough. Not filling her shoes so that he would want to stay with us. But he slept around and that, understandably, ended things.”
“I’m sorry. I had an older brother who died.”
Before I could stop myself, I totally overreacted. My eyes flew open wide, and my mouth hung down slightly. “You did? I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“How would you?”
Right. I wasn’t supposed to have any knowledge about him or his family. I tried to compose myself, because I was not behaving normally. I might have been a bit buzzed. “What happened?”
“He had cerebral palsy. He died from pneumonia when I was four. I only have these vague memories of him. And sometimes I wonder if they’re actual memories or just photos I’ve seen that I’ve transformed into memories. I sometimes think that’s why my parents were so focused on me, because they’d spent so much of their time caring for him and they just transferred all of that to me.”
“I’m sorry, too. I’m glad you have some memories of him.” Now I understood why it was important for him to visit sick kids in private.
“Yeah.” He shook his head, as if to clear it. “But we were talking about you, not me. Are you close to your dad?”
“Not really. He moved to Arizona and got remarried and has a new family, new kids. I just wasn’t ever very important to him. I mean, sometimes he emails or texts. When he remembers he sends me birthday and Christmas cards. I have half siblings I’ve never met. His wife is super into social media and I’ve found it’s painful to see pictures of their happy family, so I stay away from it. But that’s not the only reason I stay away from it.”
Wow. Had I really just said that last part out loud? I hadn’t meant to. Or maybe I’d just imagined it. It was currently hard to be sure.
I was guessing it had been completely internal when he took the tumbler from my hand and put both of our glasses on the floor. “I’d offer to get you another one, but you might have to drive home later.”
Wait. Had he said “might”? Or did I imagine that, too? I was a tiny bit tipsy, and in the past I had misinterpreted things people had said when I was drunk. Like the time a woman in college said to me, “I like your shirt,” and what I’d heard was, “You should come over here and pour your beer on me and scream in my face because you think I insulted your clothing.”
So, I could have misheard him.
“Are you going to ask your parents to help you out financially?” he asked.
“Nope, it’s fine. I got a job today. I’m going to dog sit Mrs. Kravitch’s dog for the next two weeks. You and I are going to be neighbors! Do you know Gladys?”
A look of disgust curled the edges of his mouth. “I know Mrs. Kravitch. Rhymes with—”
“Hey,” I cut him off. “Be nice. I like cantankerous old ladies.” I planned on being one someday.
“She’s the lone holdout on the HOA board and is the one keeping me from getting my fence for Magnus.”
Oh. I hadn’t known that. “Maybe I can talk to her when she gets back.”
“I already tried laying on the charm. It didn’t work.” I had a hard time picturing that such a thing could be true. I mean, I was only barely resisting it, and he wasn’t even really trying with me. I tried to picture what it would be like if he focused his full-blown charm on me, and I imagined it would probably be a little like walking out onto a darkened stage and having a bright spotlight beamed right into your eyes.