Everyone misses you, including Marisol （I know how you hate to call her Mom）。 I hope you are doing well and feeling healthy.
I love you very much, my dear husband.
Cassie
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To: Cassie Salazar
From: PFC Luke Morrow
Subject: RE: Miss you!
Hi cassie! I was so glad to hear about your show! I cant wait to come to one when I get back. I havent been to see live music since I was in middle school when I thought death metal was cool. Remember when I told you about my death metal phase? It was probably when we were walking by the river and stuff. Anyway I never told you it lasted a week because I burst my eardrum at a metal show, but I had snuck out to see that show, so I lied and told my dad that I got in a fight, and when he asked me who it was I made up a name because I’m an idiot.
The name was Rick Richardson. Richard. Richardson. I am laughing just thinking about it. The whole time I was in high school my dad thought I was in this tough guy rivalry with a very obviously made up dude named Rick Richardson. i would get home and he would be like, did that kid Richardson give you any trouble? And i was like no dad, he doesn’t mess with me anymore. At one point my dad even asked me to “point him out” when we were at Jake’s football game and I pointed to some random kid and I had to stop my dad from crossing the stadium to yell at his parents. Like just imagine this big military dude in your face pointing to your kid, who’s name is definitely not Rick Richardson, and him being like, RICK RICHARDSON, DON’T MESS WITH MY SON.
And all because I didn’t want to admit I burst my eardrum at a metal show. And you think you’re an idiot for falling over on a bike. Well you kind of are. We both are. I think that’s pretty clear by now in our marriage. Anyway I remember that night I told you about my metal phase, the night we walked by the river like it was yesterday. That was when I knew I would marry you. :） Things are good here. Had a bit of a cold when I first got here but Frankie had much worse. He was shitting his brain’s out. He really likes to talk about it （like I’m actually serious, he likes to talk about it much more then most people like to talk about shit） so do me a favor and don’t ask him about it next time we skype. I’ve heard enough.
Sorry about my grammar, btw. Community college never gave me many good skills, unless you count making up various funerals for relatives so I wouldn’t have to go to class for a good skill.
Love your husband,
Luke
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To: PFC Luke Morrow From: Cassie Salazar
Subject: RE: RE: Miss you!
Hi Rick,
You don’t exist, but you’re real to me.
Your archenemy’s wife,
Cassandra Salazar
P.S. See you on Skype next week, Tuesday at 11 a.m. your time?! Will give you all the updates then.
Luke
We played volleyball every day. Everyone loved volleyball here. We played soccer, too, but volleyball brought in a more diverse crowd. Everyone from six-year-olds with Mickey Mouse shirts playing over a cord tied between two poles to ANA commanding officers with trimmed, British-looking beards to older men with inch-deep wrinkles on courts that had been up since the eighties. Wherever there was a flat enough space and a net, we played.
Our usual team was me, Frankie, and a gangly eight-year-old named Ahmad, against Majeed, another, college-age interpreter; Randall, a British captain; and Franson, one of the women from the Red Horse unit I knew vaguely through Frankie. Franson actually played in high school, so they’d beat us every time.
Today she’d offered to switch with Majeed, Frankie, or me. Ahmad didn’t know much English but Franson put her Oakleys on her head and smiled at him, pointing to her and to me, making a rotating motion with her hand.
Majeed interpreted.
Ahmad smiled and grabbed our uniforms as we stood on either side of him, shaking his head. “No, no, no, no.”
He said something to Majeed. Majeed said, “Ahmad likes to stay on a team with Frank and Luke.”
Frankie and I shrugged at each other behind our sunglasses. Ahmad and I gave each other a high five.
“We may not be good but we’re fun,” Frankie said.
“It’s only because you let Ahmad serve every time,” Franson joked, backing up to her spot, tossing the ball.
Majeed laughed.
“Yeah, Morrow and Cucciolo don’t know how to serve, anyway,” Randall called.
“Whatever, dude,” Frankie said, bending his knees to get in the ready position. “Watch what you say or Luke will break your nose.”
“All right, all right,” Franson said, stepping behind the line.