The Last Hour (6 page)

“Whatever, Ray. I get it, okay. You lost friends. Things sucked over there. But that doesn’t take away from how bad this sucks, all right? I had plans for my life.”

I dropped my eyes to the floor and said, “It’s not over yet, kid.”

“How do you know?”

“Because the surgeons aren’t out here telling them we’re dead, all right? We’ve still got a chance.”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling.

Jesus. It’s kind of funny. Dylan was always the king of drama queens. I mean, who the hell shoots a clip of ammo through their laptop? But Sarah just might have the edge on him.
 

On the other hand, she might be right.

“What kind of plans?” I asked.

Her face scrunched up in a skeptical look. “Seriously?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Musician.”

“Oh yeah? Like Crank?”

She smiled. “Better.”

“Nice. That’s why you were showing off the guitar with Crank at New Year’s.”

Our brother-in-law Crank was the lead-singer and guitarist for the very successful alt-rock band Morbid Obesity. I had a chance to see them in concert for the first time back at New Year’s, right before everything went to hell. Carrie got us backstage passes.

I looked over at her. “Your parents don’t know, do they?”

She smirked. “Are you kidding? They’d have a heart attack. As it was, when I got the guitar, my father went all pale and wandered off to his study, and Mom had an anxiety attack. She’s not as bad as she used to be, just ... very controlling. But you know, I’ve played viola since I was tiny. It was time for something new.”

“Viola?”
 

She nodded. “All of us had lessons. Mom says it’s part of being a well-rounded person.
”
Sarah curled her fingers into air quotes as she said the words
well-rounded person
. She continued. “Jessica plays violin.”

“What about Carrie?” I asked. I’d never seen her touch any instrument.

“She hated it. She loves music, but not being a musician. But she studied cello right up into high school.”

I glanced over at Carrie. She had her arm around Jessica, who was leaning against her. Both of them had their eyes closed. “I wish I could have known her back then.”

Sarah said, in almost a whisper, “She’s the best big sister. Always watched out for us and took us places. Gave us hugs and Band-Aids and even after she left home, we talked on the phone almost every day. She’s what I imagine a mother would be like, if my mother wasn’t crazy.”

I sighed as she said the words. We’d had a conversation about that, just once. Most of the time, we didn’t talk about the future. Most of the time, our only goal was to get through the present. But we did talk about kids, just once.
 

It was during a phone conversation. Carrie had returned to Texas, and I was in New York, helping out Dylan and trying to decide what I wanted to do with my life now that I was out of the Army. That night, I had been sitting on the roof of Dylan’s apartment building, looking out over the rooftops and at Morningside Park. It was unseasonably warm, just a couple of days before Thanksgiving last fall, and we were having one of our many long, long phone conversations.
 

“What are you doing?” she had asked.

“Thinking about you,” I said.
 

“Stop that,” she replied. I could almost hear her blush.

“Stop what? I’ve also been working on applications. And babysitting Dylan.”

“Applications? Where are you thinking about?”

I sighed. Awkward question, because I’d given a lot of thought to a few places. “American University. Georgetown. Columbia … Berkeley ... Rice.”

“Oh yeah? Why Rice?”

“Lot warmer in Texas than Long Island.”

She laughed. “How do you rate your chances?”

“Good. I know I seem like a knucklehead, but I’ve got a 3.9 GPA and a full ride from the GI Bill, or close enough.”

She chuckled. “You know I teach undergraduates. Dating you ... if that’s what we’re doing ... it feels like robbing the cradle.”

“Lady, you’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. I’m a lot of things, but ... I don’t feel young. Not anymore.”

She was silent. I’d stepped in it a bit. I usually didn’t even make oblique references to the Army or Afghanistan. I didn’t like to talk about it, and she knew it.
 

“Sorry,” I said.

“You don’t need to apologize,” she replied. “I’m happy to talk about it any time. It’s you who won’t.”

“There’s a lot of good reasons for that,” I said.

“Alexandra said…”
 

Her voice trailed off, and I waited. Finally, after what seemed like an interminably long wait, I said, “Alex said ... what?”

“She said Dylan has talked about Afghanistan quite a bit.”

I didn’t answer right away. I just looked out at the park. The sun was going down, and headlights bracketed both sides of Morningside Park. So why could Dylan talk about it and I couldn’t? Why could a 60-watt bulb light up a room, yet be swallowed in the darkness of the park below me? Why not ask the ocean why it had current? Or the sky, why there was wind? It was just too big. Too big to get my mind around, too big to think about even. Not to mention that any day now, a JAG lawyer was going to open an envelope, and find a letter and thumb drive inside. And when that happened, my whole future would come into question, my whole life.
 

Or maybe not. Maybe the lawyer would look at the contents, and decide it was better left alone. A simple format command, and everything on the thumb drive would be erased.
 

Maybe I shouldn’t have turned it in.

Maybe I should have gone in person.

No. I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t stay in the Army. At least now, when it all came out, it would be on my terms.
 

Finally, I said, “I think is Dylan is starting to see a future.”

Abruptly, she changed to a quick, almost clipped tone. “Maybe that’s it. I’ve gotta go, talk to you later.”

I sat up straight, as it started to sink in that I’d said something seriously wrong.
 

“Wait,” I said, but it was too late. She’d hung up already.

I get it. I’m not the brightest bulb in the room, but even I know when I’ve said something stupid. I had this awful feeling in my gut. Because if she was feeling about me the way I was about her ... then I’d have been hurt if she said something like that. So I called her back.

It rang three times, and I thought for sure she was going to send me to voicemail before she finally picked up. By the time I heard her voice, I was sitting up straight in my seat, my pulse pounding at my temples.

“Hello?”
 

“Look,” I said without any introduction. “It’s not that I don’t see a future. In fact ... I’m gonna lay it out there, Carrie. I like you a hell of a lot. I rated my possible schools by the places you’re most likely to be. I’m honestly ... a little overwhelmed by how quickly my feelings have developed about you ... us. But it’s an adjustment for me, all right? It’s not even been a month since the only thing I could look forward to was making it through the day without getting shot at.”

She was silent, but I could hear her breathing. Finally she asked, “Did you really do that?”

“What?”

“Rate your schools by where I might be?”

I coughed. “Yeah. Yeah I did.”

“Start thinking Georgetown or American University then. I’ve got a place here at Rice ... but I’m up for a fellowship at National Institutes of Health in Bethesda. I’ll know in a couple more weeks.”

I swallowed. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Nothing to forgive,” she replied. “And … it’s just crazy to pick out schools based on where I might be.”

“Right now it’s crazy for me to think about where I’ll be in a week. Much less, next year. But I gotta start somewhere. Might as well start somewhere with a friendly face.”

“What if you turn out to be a crazy stalker?”

I sighed. “Then you tell Alex, and Alex will tell Dylan, and he’ll hunt me down, and we’ll have an epic battle, destroy some buildings, flip buses around, make a big mess. They’ll call out the Air Force, but those wusses will run away, so then they’ll send in the 82
nd
Airborne.”

She chuckled, but I wasn’t done making an ass of myself yet. “Anyway, when the 82
nd
Airborne fails miserably, as they undoubtedly will, they’ll send over the Marines, and we’ll send them packing for a swim.”

She snorted, and I thought Carrie might be the only person on earth who can make a snort-laugh sound sexy. “What happens then?”

“Well, then they send in Chuck Norris.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’ve lived this long, haven’t I? I know what I’m talking about. Chuck will recognize what badasses we are, we’ll all go for a drink, and then Dylan and I will punk him and get back to business. And then finally the President sends in his ultimate weapon, who finally subdues us.”

“Who? The secret service?”

I scoffed. “Are you kidding me? No, he sends in the IRS.”

“That’s it, you’re doomed.”

“Yeah ... anyway. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied. “It’s just….”

I listened, waiting to see if she’d continue.

Finally she did. “It’s just ... I’m almost thirty. I’m not looking for a commitment, Ray … it’s too soon. But I am thinking about the future. I mean ... I want to be a mom someday. I don’t want to waste my time if you’re just looking to get laid.”

Part of me wanted to give her a flippant response. Part of me wanted to say, “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong guy.” But that was a small part. Instead, my thoughts turned to Weber. He would have said: snatch the happiness you can, while you can.

So instead, I said, “Carrie, look ... I like you a lot, okay? We’re still getting to know each other. Let’s give it a chance.”

“Okay,” she responded.

“Good. You defend your dissertation the week after Thanksgiving, right? What are you doing after?”

“Getting a good night’s sleep.”

“No,” I said.

“What?”

“You’re picking me up at the airport.”

“Ray…”

“No arguments. I’m taking you out for a fancy dinner Friday. And dancing. And whatever movie you want to see. Or drinks. Or whatever in the world you want to do. Okay?”

“Okay.” Her voice was quiet.

“I’d come out earlier, but I promised my mom I’d be home for Thanksgiving.”

“It’s all right, I’ll be in San Francisco this weekend anyway.”

“Whole family getting together?”

“Pretty much ... all my sisters except Andrea. She’s in Spain at our grandmother’s, and I don’t think she’s coming home this year.”

“So we’ll see each other soon.”

I could almost hear her smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

And so we clicked off. I stayed there on the roof for a little while longer, smoked a couple of cigarettes, and thought. The thing was, I knew I was on borrowed time. At some point, I didn’t know when, the story was going to break, and I didn’t know what was going to happen. There were a lot of possibilities, and almost all of them were ugly. Was it fair to Carrie to get involved with her with that hanging over my head? When she, as she put it, didn’t want to waste time?

I really didn’t know the answer. Considering that it was just as likely the whole thing would be buried, how could I live my life in complete limbo?

I didn’t know then what the right decision was, and to be honest, I still didn’t know. Looking at her now—huddled with Jessica, in so much pain and worry and fear—I couldn’t help but ask myself if I’d made a mistake, if I should have told her then that my life was just too complicated, that she should stay far away.

When Jessica’s phone rang, they both shifted position. Jessica looked at the phone, saw who was calling, and passed the phone to Carrie. Then she just curled up again. Jesus Christ.

Carrie answered the phone.

“Hello? Alexandra?”

I leaned as close as I could so I could hear.

“Carrie? Oh my God, I’m so glad I reached you. Are you okay?”

“I’m all right,” Carrie answered. “Jessica and I are just waiting. Ray and Sarah ... they’re both in emergency surgery.”

“Oh, God. Listen, Dylan and I are at JFK, our flight boards in ten minutes. We’ll be there as soon as we can, okay?”

Carrie swallowed, and her eyes watered a little. “Have you talked to Mom and Dad?”

“Yes. I made them promise not to call. They’re catching a flight, but may not be there until morning.”

“Thanks. Um ... how is Dylan? What about Ray’s parents?”

Alex responded in a no-nonsense tone. “Don’t worry about any of that. I’ve talked to Ray’s parents—they’re on their way. I’ve taken care of everything. You just hang tight, and we’ll be there soon.”

Carrie squeezed Jessica’s hand in hers and whispered into the phone, “Please hurry.”

Then she hung up the phone and passed it back to Jessica.

I sank down on my heels and exhaled. I would have done just about anything to be able to comfort her, to reassure her. And since it looked like there was nothing I could do, at least Alex was coming, and soon.
 

Jessica stirred a little and said, “I’ll be right back.” She stood and walked to the nurse’s station, and I heard her quietly ask directions to the restrooms. Without Jessica to comfort, Carrie looked out of her element. Her eyes wandered around the room, as if they were looking for something, anything, to fix on. She sighed, crossed her legs, and then uncrossed them.
 

I’d seen her like this before. This was Carrie needing to do something, needing to fix something. Never one to wallow in her emotions or thoughts, she always preferred action ... even when there was nothing to be done.
 

Finally, she stood. I glanced at the clock. It had taken approximately three minutes for her patience to break. She marched to the nurses’ desk. I followed.
 

A glance over my shoulder showed Sarah, still sitting in her chair in the corner, legs folded up under her. She stared into space, her eyes an impossible blue against her black hair. She was too young for this. Too young to be worrying about whether or not she was going to live. Too young to have to worry about saying goodbye to her twin.