Page 102 of Chaos

“We were able to recreate my kit.”

“So many.”

There are three in a row, along with a veritable rainbow of horizontal bands. I don’t know what any of them mean, but I can guess.

Someday I’ll sit down and make him explain every single one of those medals and stripes to me and Auden and Shane, and we’ll teach them to Maybe, so she knows all about this wonderful, brave, brilliant man who is her father.

I step closer to him, getting a whiff of that intoxicating Yorke smell, as he walks us smoothly back toward the dance floor, and sliding us into a slow sway. He dances like he does everything, not effusive or embellished, but fluid, competent. Not like he took cotillion, but like he knows his body very,verywell.

The music has shifted toI’ll be Home for Christmas. Hank shuffles past us with his reindeer horns on his bald head, and a light-up Rudolf nose on his stupid Christmas sweater as he turns Pearl in a sedate tempo, his old-man hips waggling.

Yorke’s holding my right hand, but my left is free. I slide it up above the embroidered ribbons and metals on his chest to rest beside an epaulet, over a pale blue braided rope that runs from the top of his right shoulder under his arm.

“This morning …” I rise up, and my lips brush his ear, making him shiver. “I liked when you—”

“There you are,” a voice booms out. That would be Church. “I didn’t say it to you before, Frankie because I couldn’t see past the red”—he gestures vaguely at Shasta with an appreciative grin—“but you’re a vision in emerald. And Yorke, decorated well tonight. He has, by the way, ribbons and medals all over his uniform. And to be honest, so do I. Quite a few of them.”

“Are you drunk?” Shasta elbows his rib. “Who talks like this?”

He leans into her conspiratorially. “I’m giving you visuals, Blondie. Don’t shame me for trying to be your eyes when you can’t see. I was shooting for subtle. But I also wanted you to know I am a man of accomplishments.”

Her lips part. “That’s why you’ve been describing everything like a bad showman all night?”

“Obviously.” He makes aduhface.

I’m pretty sure if I lifted her sunglasses, her unseeing eyes would be dopey-shaped hearts.

She finds his chest, her fingers sliding up his jacket, lingering over his ribbons that speak to heroism and efficiency and skill. Her thumb slides back and forth, the most tender gesture I’ve ever seen out of Shasta. “Tell me more. Tell me they look happy.”

Church tears his gaze away from her shiny, red lips, and his grin fades. “Uhhhh. Actually, Yorke looks … half stupid.”

“Half stupid?” she echoes. “Ishedrunk?”

“No. In fact, now he looks irritated.” He studies us for a minute. “I think we stepped in something.”

“Are they fighting?”

“No. The opposite.” He snags her hand. “Come on, Blind Betty, let’s go annoy Jacquetta. I’m sure she’s off glaring at someone somewhere. Later Yorke, Yorkewife.” He drags Shasta away before she can ask.

The second they’re gone, Yorke yanks me back against him. “What were you about to say?”

“I thought of one last thing I want for Christmas.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

24|Each semi-playful sentence healing over a scar

FRANKIE

WE LEAVE THE PARTY BEHIND,and head for the stairs, taking them fast, our hands together.

Just outside our door, he stops, holding the key and says my name. “Frankie …” I’m not honestly sure if he’s ever said my name like that before. Maybe. He tugs me under his arm, so I’m facing him, back pressed against the door.

I don’t always notice his height, I’m so used to it, but I’m suddenly intensely aware of his size as he hovers over me.

“This morning, the talking? Did it help?”

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