Page 78 of Callow

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

“What was the Vietnam War like?” she asked, making Sabrina snort out a laugh.

“How the fuck old do you think I am?” I asked, making Sabrina lose her fight and burst out in laughter.

“What?” Daph asked, genuinely perplexed.

“The Vietnam War started in ’55. I wasn’t born yet,” I told her.

“What about Grenada?”

“Still before my time.”

“What about the Gulf War?”

“Think I was still learning to tie my shoes when that went down. You got a history paper due or something?”

“It’s for a debate, actually,” she admitted.

“What is the debate?”

“Those pro versus against war. In general.”

“Which side are you on?”

“Against,” she said. “I guess you’d be pro?”

“That’s… a big question.”

“But you were in the military for, like, ever.”

“Which is why I saw a lot of how pointless most wars are. How many innocent people die because of the ideas a few people at the top have.”

“What’s complicated then?” she asked.

“Sometimes wars help liberate oppressed people. Sometimes they take heartless dictators out of office. But, as a whole, it’s just a lot of suffering and death.”

“Would you do it again?”

“That’s complicated. I did it to get away from home when I was young and miserable. It let me travel. It taught me a lot about duty, sacrifice, and teamwork. Would I go back now if it was possible? No. But I dunno if I would want to erase the experience either.”

“How did you go from the military to an arms-dealing biker?”

“Daphne!” Sabrina hissed.

“What? It’s not like we don’t all know what he does for a living,” she said with an eye roll.

“It’s alright,” I said, turning my coffee cup around on the counter a time or two before answering. “I think, in a way, it was familiar. The brotherhood, the teamwork, the sacrificing the individual wants for the good of the whole. I was used to strict authority structures. And, yeah, I know a thing or two about guns. And don’t shy away from dangerous situations. It made a hell of a lot more sense to end up as an arms-dealing biker than, I dunno, a used car salesman or some shit.”

“Does it pay a lot?”

“Daphne, for God’s sake. I might not have been Miss Manners, but I’m pretty sure I did teach you that you can’t ask people what they make for a living.”

“It’s fine,” I said, reaching out to swipe some flour off of Sabrina’s arm. A movement that Daph tracked, a little smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, it pays well.”

“How well?”

“I give up,” Sabrina said, closing her eyes and shaking her head at her kid’s prying questions.

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