Page 15 of Before We Say Goodbye
His eyes snapped to her. “Jesus, Rebecca. Yes, fine. I’m sorry. You try living my life for a while. You had no right to run off.”
Rebecca bit her lip. Otis was in way over his head and kept his gaze toward the fence, listening closely. He wondered what her brother had to do with it.
“What have you been doing?” Marshall asked, clearly working hard to be kind.
“It doesn’t matter. Just beatin’ around in San Francisco. What happened to Jed? Why’d you let him go? What was it, the army?”
An affirmative nod. “You think I had any say in it? As if my kids listen to me at all. Hell, I told him not to join, he did it to spite me. He got tricked by the promises of benefits ... and fooled into thinking he was going to save this country. United States pride.” He saluted. “Ten hut.”
A sadder picture Otis couldn’t remember seeing. It was no wonder she ran away.
Marshall shook his head in disgust. “He thought he’d go be a hero, save the world from communism. He was there three fucking days, Rebecca. Barely two months of boot camp, then three days in the jungle, and he steps on an M14, what they call a ‘toe-popper.’ Both legs gone at the knees. Then two months in the VA hospital, and now he’s back home and wishes that toe-popper had taken the rest of him. There’s your hero.”
Bec fought off tears. “Don’t talk about him like that.”
“I told him not to go. He wouldn’t listen. Just like you.” Marshall went for his beer like it was a pacifier.
“I shouldn’t have left,” she said.
He squeezed the can in his hand till it crackled. “You’re damn right you shouldn’t have left. He might have listened to you. They said they’d pay for college and help him buy a house. Didn’t mention that his chances in coming back whole were slim. I told him ... twenty times I told him.”
Car doors shut out front.
“That’s probably them.” Marshall stood. “I need to help.”
In the driveway, Rebecca’s mom had pulled open the back door of their car. Marshall raced over, and together they carried Jed out while Otis and Rebecca watched from the sidelines.
Jed had a long and untrimmed brown beard. He was certainly the tallest in the family. His eyes, the color of almonds, reflected pain and rage, and perhaps even confusion. Maybe he’d once been handsome, but he wasn’t today. His thick curly hair could use a wash. Hell, all of him could. Swollen muscles and tattoos poked out of the rolled-up sleeves of his army jacket.
“Holy shit,” Jed said, noticing his sister for the first time.
“Rebecca?” her mom asked, unbelieving. Olivia Bradshaw was the only one who seemed to care at all about her own appearance. About the same height and build as Rebecca, she wore a long, casual dress with a thick white belt around her slim waist. Straight hair that was more cream colored than blond fell past her shoulders. Whereas Marshall showed his weariness from the nose up, most of Olivia’s wrinkles had developed around her mouth, as if she’d spent her life biting her tongue and clenching her jaw.
The sadness that she wore like a blanket fell away as she approached Rebecca and made sure she wasn’t dreaming up this reunion.
“I’m sorry,” was all Rebecca could manage to say.
Olivia made a series of grateful sighs as she wrapped her daughter in a hug. “Is this really you, Becca? My God, we didn’t know what happened to you. I ...”
Bec offered a few more apologies and squeezed her mom back.
Everyone gathered in the living room. Otis couldn’t place the musty odor, maybe a spill in the shag carpet that had never been cleaned up. The walls were painted a scarlet red that someone surely regretted.Let’s really brighten up the living room!they might have thought. Then the day after painting:What in the hell were we thinking?
Marshall cracked another beer and handed one to Jed, then one to Otis, who accepted this time. He needed something to calm his nerves, and he silently hoped Bec wouldn’t spring the news of their engagement.
“Who are you, kid?” Marshall asked from the La-Z-Boy throne that Rebecca had mentioned more than a time or two. “What kind of accent is that?”
“London, sir.” Otis sat in a tattered cloth chair with a coffee stain prominent on the arm.
“How do you two know each other?”
Otis held his breath, thinking Bec had to make the play here.
Sitting next to her mother on the couch, she took the cue. “We met on the way to Woodstock.”
“Woodstock. The festival?” Jed asked, rolling forward to join the conversation. “Hot damn, sis. I heard all about that.”
“Yeah, it was pretty wild.”
