“Okay, Jolene,” Michael said one morning in early November. He came into her bedroom and flung back the curtains, letting light steamroll over her.
She had a pounding headache. Had she had an extra glass of wine last night? “Go away, Michael. It’s Saturday. I’m not going to rehab.”
“You’re going somewhere else.”
She sat up, blinking wearily. “Where is it you think I’m going?”
He stepped aside. Seth walked into the bedroom. He was dressed all in black—wrinkled black corduroy pants and an oversized black short-sleeved shirt with an envelope stuck in the breast pocket—and his hair pulled back in a samurai topknot that only Johnny Depp could pull off. My kid’s a fashion disaster, what can I say? She heard Tami’s voice so loudly, so clearly, that Jolene caught her breath. For a split second, she thought she saw her friend standing in the corner, her arms crossed, her face lit by a smile.
“Miz Z,” Seth said, coming forward.
“Seth,” she whispered, feeling a stab of guilt. “I should have come over to see you. I’ve just been…”
“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.”
Jolene wanted to fill the sudden painful silence, but she couldn’t.
“Her locker,” Seth said at last.
Jolene knew what he was going to ask of her, and she couldn’t do it.
“They want us to clean it out. Dad doesn’t even know where it is. Will you take me to the post, help me get her things?”
She wanted to say no. Instead, she nodded, her eyes stinging again, and said, “Of course, Seth. Maybe next week—”
“Today,” Michael said. “We’ll all go.” He came to the bed, held out his hand.
She stared at it, afraid to let him touch her. She felt so breakable right now. But Tami had asked this of her—take care of Seth—and she’d be damned if she’d let her best friend down. In an act of will, she took Michael’s hand, let him help her to her feet. She stared into his eyes for a moment, seeing the strength that was offered there, unable to take it for her own. “I’ll get ready.” She gave Seth a weak smile.
In the bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her face was healed now, but even so, it was different. Sharper. Harder. Her cheekbones were bony ridges above hollow cheeks; her lips were chapped and pale. And there was that slightest pink scar along her jaw. “You can do this.”
Of course you can.
It was Tami’s voice again, so close, Jolene turned sharply, looked behind her. There was no one there.
She limped toward the shower. When she was done, she dried her hair, coiled it in a bun, and went to her closet.
Her ACUs were right there in front. Michael must have brought them down. But she wasn’t a soldier anymore.
The thought came to her before she could guard against it.
She gritted her teeth and dressed in a pair of black pants and a gray turtleneck. When she went out into the living room, Betsy and Lulu were standing by Michael. Seth stood off by himself, his arms crossed tightly.
“Okay,” Jolene said. “Let’s go.”
She limped into the garage and opened the passenger door of her SUV. She opened it and hoisted herself up into the plush seat.
In no time, the kids were in back: Seth and Betsy were sitting together, with Lulu on the left side of them. In the rearview mirror, Jolene saw Betsy poke Seth’s upper arm. He blinked in surprise and pulled the earbuds from his ears. Betsy leaned closer to him, whispered something. He looked at her, his eyes widening at her smile.
Jolene turned away, looked out the window, watching the gray landscape blur past her. Now and then Michael tried to begin a conversation, but she didn’t bother to answer, and soon he gave up.
All she could think about was Tami. Her friend should be in the car now, cranking the music up, saying, Hey, flygirl, Prince or Madonna today?
When they drove up to the guard post, Jolene felt a sharp stab of emotion—longing, disappointment, loss.
So much of her life had been spent here. With Tami beside her, always.
They parked in front of the hangar. Jolene steeled herself. It would be a tough day—and not just because hours on the temporary prosthesis came at a price. She climbed out of the SUV and stood there, both feet firmly planted, waiting for Seth.
Michael said, “Lulu has to go to the bathroom.”
Jolene nodded. “It’s in that building right there. First door on the left. We’ll meet you back at the car. It … won’t take long.”
Michael leaned forward, kissed her lightly on the cheek, whispered, “You got this, Jo.”