Page 60 of A Secret and a Lie
We met in an online grief group that I joined a few years ago, though I rarely post in the forum. I mostly lurk, but the few times I did comment were always on her posts. My parents dropped out of my life long before they actually died. My grandfather told my mother that he wouldn’t bankroll her life once she started seeing a convicted murderer who never should’ve been released from prison, but then, she got pregnant.
The only gift my mother gave me was a name that repeated.FordCrawford, who fucking does that? It was probably the drugs, but it’s possible she was simply uncreative. Either way, it’s all I have to remember her by.
My grandfather raised me as if I were his own son. My mother and father would drop in and out of my life until my grandfather finally told them that they had to choose: stick around and be parents or stay away. They didn’t choose me. I haven’t seen them since. That was more than a decade ago.
I’m not even sure why I stuck around in the bereavement group for as long as I did.
Maybe I was waiting on her.
I’d never admit that was the reason I clung to.
“Is that Catfish Queen?” Drake calls out, and I turn to find him ducking into our shitty barracks. He drags a rag over the back of his neck that I’m sure comes away damp. It’s hotter than Satan’s ball sack here.
“She’s not catfishing me, asshole,” I mutter. Drake’s convinced that I’m being played by a bored sixty-year-old man. Even if he turns out to be right, which I don’t think he is, it’s nice to have a friend.
He snorts, sinking onto his cot. “I’m not looking forward to this patrol run,” he says, changing the subject, muttering, “I don’t feel good about it.
“Yeah, me neither.”I never do.
Helmand Province has been home for the last year and some change, and I’m nearing the end of my tour. The decision of whether to sign up for another is in my palm, growing heavier with every passing day.
Rereading the message on the screen in front of me, I think through what my response should be. Just as she’s never told me what she does for a living, she only knows that I’m serving overseas. It’s the sole piece of ourselves—outside of our names—that we haven’t shared.
Knowing my time with the computer is running out, I quickly type a message.
@livingh3ll: Why can’t you choose a different path? Life is short. You should do what you want with the time you’ve got, you know?
Who the fuck am I to be offering this kind of advice? There are a thousand paths I should have taken that could’ve led me to a very different life. Shit, I could still take any number of those roads and completely shift the trajectory of my life. Yet, I somehow continue to end up in the clutches of the Marine Corps.
I should be home now, spending time with my grandfather, learning his business so that I can take over for him someday. Instead, I spend my days going on patrol runs, working out, executing raids, gathering intel, and messaging the only girl who’s ever truly captured my attention.
I’m just about to log off when another message pops up, and I’m surprised, given the time difference.
@dc_d0ll: I’m scared to veer off this path because it led me to you. What if my next one leads me away from you?
My stomach clenches. We’ve flirted before, but something about this feels different, deeper. Like we’ve just plunged beneath the surface of the water, and I’m being dragged further from the top, further from air. But I’m not scared of drowning.
Not with her.
Somehow, I know she’ll have the oxygen I need.
@livingh3ll: Our paths have already crossed. I’d say that’s a permanent thing.
“Elwood, Crawford, move your asses,” Major Hale bellows.
Reluctantly, I log off, knowing I’ll be thinking about this message exchange every waking hour since I won’t be talking to her again for several days.
Genevieve
Leo scowls at me, making me shrink inside, my heart shriveling, my shoulders curling inward, and my stomach twisting.
Working for him is hell on earth, and the clients are often worse, but every time I think I can escape, he drags me back here—usually by my hair. I don’t know why the other girls claim he’sthe bestpimp in D.C., a laughable title in any case.
The only bright spot I have left in my life ishim, the stranger on the internet. His messages keep me alive and convince me that I should continue to skim money off the top of what I give Leo, even if it puts me at risk. He’s something I can live for since living for myself these days is feeling a bit bleak.
“When are you going to learn to stop running from me, girl? I willalwaysfind you, and if I can’t, I’ll make sure someone can. I know powerful people.” He leans forward, sneering as he bears his yellowing teeth. “There’s no escaping. I own you.”
Only until I get out.
