Page 30 of Hot Doggin'
The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the memory. “We waited to see what they would do. After all, it didn’t immediately pose a threat. The bus was filled with women and children.”
Stiles's expression changes, hardens. He doesn’t have to remember the story to know what’s coming.
“There was a boy. He had to be younger than ten. He poked his head out the window and waved to me. Not like he was excited to be there, or anything, just a little wave. He smiled. I remember thinking he had such white teeth, which was odd, since he probably had never seen a dentist, maybe even a toothbrush.”
I clear my throat and glance at Danny’s stone, wishing he were here to help me tell the story.
“Everything seemed fine. Maybe they had just broken down or something? I mean, nobody was shouting at us, or sticking guns out the windows. So I made the call to proceed and go around the bus. I was the first one to move forward, with Danny not far behind me. Next thing I know, I’m off my feet and flying through the air, landing on my ass some twenty feet away. I still remember the heat of the blast. Singed my fucking eyebrows and eyelashes off.”
“I was knocked stupid. Got my bell rung good. Couldn’t hear, couldn’t see, nothing but the tornado inside my head that wiped out everything around me. When the fog cleared, that boy's head was lying at my feet. His eyes were open, and he was staring up at me.”
Stiles clears his throat and rubs his face. I’m sure he’s sorry he asked.
“My body absorbed shrapnel from the bus.” I touch the scar on my cheek. “My leg was cut to shit, bloody ribbons of flesh. One piece sliced nearly clean through my shin. We lost two guys that day on the other side of the bus.”
“Is that how you lost Danny?”
“Nah. He came to see me the next day in the hospital, after I woke up from surgery. I guess he came to say goodbye. At least that’s what it felt like. I remember thinking at the time, it felt a lot like goodbye. Like, is this what it feels like when you know it’s the last time you’re gonna see someone? But then I thought,no, he’s just shaken up. He’ll be okay. They found—” My voice cracks, and I have to clear my throat before I can continue.
My gaze falls heavily on Danny’s headstone. A trace of the pain I felt that day washes over me like a tidal wave, drowning me in sorrow. “They found him down the hall in the bathroom with a gunshot wound to the head. I guess… He couldn’t deal with what he saw. Maybe me losing my leg pushed him over the edge. I don’t know. He was close with one of the guys who we lost. I was so devastated over losing him that I didn’t even worry about my leg until I got back stateside. Maybe that’s why I didn’t spiral like West did. Losing my leg was a drop in the bucket compared to losing Danny.”
Stiles reaches for my hand and squeezes. “How did he end up here?”
“He didn’t have any family. A cousin or something, but they weren’t close. The guy said I could do whatever I wanted with him. I was still bedridden in Germany, and I just couldn’t make decisions like that at the time. So I had him cremated. When I got back to Fort Bragg, I collected his ashes, and when I moved out here and realized I was finally home, I bought this plot and buried him.”
His throat works as he struggles to swallow and find his voice, which comes out all beat to hell. “How come you didn’t just keep his ashes with you?”
That was a question he never asked before. “I just couldn’t stare at it day after day, thinking of him, remembering what happened and how I lost him. That’s too fucking much. Plus, I refuse to put him on my mantle so he can sit and watch me jack off at my computer. Fucking creepy, man. So, I stuck him out here, where he can rest peacefully, and I try to make it out here when I feel strong enough to deal with it.”
He’s quiet for a while, looking around in the distance at the other graves being visited. Finally, he turns to me, and he looks a little sad. “You’ve told me all this before, haven’t you.”
It’s more of a statement than a question. “A time or two,” I tease with a smile.
Stiles shakes its head. “You’d think I wouldn’t forget something that important.”
I flip our hands, so that mine is covering his, and squeeze. “Honestly, I think you block it out because of the trauma. Your brain has had enough and doesn’t wanna remember that shit.”
He looks down at our joined hands. “Thanks for telling me again. I know it’s not easy.”
A rush of emotion hits me hard, and I have to swallow past the lump forming in the back of my throat. “I’ll tell you a thousand times if you ask. I'll never get tired of helping you remember.”
“I wish I could’ve met him.”
“I told him I kissed you. I bet now he wishes he would have stuck around so he could meet you too.”
His dark brows draw together tightly. “Sometimes at night when I find you in the kitchen on the floor, is this what you’re remembering?”
“Yeah,” I choke. “I can’t stand the quiet at night. I can hear them screaming, I can hear the scraping of metal and the blast. The ringing in my ears that lasted for weeks. I can smell it and feel the heat on my face again. It blocks out all of my senses and I get lost inside myself. Something about that cold, hard kitchen floor, so opposite from the hot desert sand, grounds me, brings me back to the present.”
His gaze drops to our joined hands, and he laces our fingers together. “Next time, I won’t pull you up off the floor so fast. I’ll just sit down there with you and hold your hand until it passes, until you can find your way back to me again.”
I lose the battle with my tears, and they fall hot down my cheeks. His promise—I hope that’s something he doesn’t forget. I need him to remember for next time.
He rolls and pushes to his feet. “Come on, it’s been a long day. Let’s go home.”
Home. Our home. Together. It’s the only place I want to be right now.
CHAPTER
