Free You Are Here by S. M. Lumetta Page A

this. I coerced my expression into a genial smile, apparently giving Nash the cue to start in on me.
    “So?” He lobbed the word at me, expectantly.
    My chest felt hollow. “So what?” I hedged.
    You chose to be here , I reminded myself as I braced for torture. That damn memory of the keg party stirred up enough of somethingto coerce me into this terrible decision.
    “So what !”
    I thought he was going to jump out of the booth. This level of volume was not unusual for Nash, however. Vivien laughed lightly and tipped her ice water to her perfectly painted ruby red lips.
    “I can’t believe you’d say that to me! Come on! I mean, dude. The last time you returned a call, you were being shipped out for some assignment you couldn’t say anything about. I guessed Africa, but you wouldn’t say.”
    Philippines.
    “There isn’t much about my time in the army I care to talk about,” I said evenly, though my expression barely maintained neutrality. “It wasn’t as if I wanted to be there, exactly.”
    I heard a modest Louisiana cadence taint my words. I calmed the rush of dread with a deep breath.
    “Whatever.” He blew it off. “You’re out now, right?”
    He tried to continue the interrogation, but the waitress interrupted. While Vivien and Nash pored over the menu, I methodically scanned the restaurant again. A baby was crying on the far side of the dining room. A young couple three tables to my right quietly argued over her supposed location the previous night. A tall, rough-looking tourist with one hell of a beer belly stood blocking the nearest exit.
    I brought my attention back to the waitress just in time to avoid more clapping in my face. I ordered a New York strip, medium rare, with a baked potato, and handed her the menu.
    “So what about you, Nash? How long have you two been married?”
    His face brightened with his signature thousand-watt grin.
    “Four years! That is, four years in October,” he said, taking the opportunity to put his arm around his wife.
    Nash smiled at her, squeezing her shoulders with one arm. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. Her eyes floated slowly from the ceiling to a spot in her lap while her mouth curved into a devious smirk. A throaty chuckle escaped her lips. Nash’s lips moved along her earlobe. They might not have noticed if I just left.
    When Vivien got up to visit the ladies’ room, I stood along with Nash. My body continued to betray me. Regardless of what I was now, the concept of being a gentleman remained hardwired.
    “So, I always wanted to ask, but I never, uh … you never seemed to want to talk about it.”
    I didn’t have to wonder to know exactly what he was referring to. And I was not open to discussing the topic.
    “No,” I said firmly.
    “Grey, you never wanted to go into the army,” he argued. “Your dad—”
    “He wasn’t my dad,” I corrected sharply, before I could stop myself.
    He sighed, only slightly defeated. “I know you guys never got along too well, and in the end, I guess it makes sense, but—”
    “I’m not having this conversation.”
    He considered me carefully, my mind bracing to stop the memory he was insistent on discussing.
    I looked down, closing my eyes. My breathing was uneven. What the fuck was happening? My past was all but nonexistent a couple of days ago. Clearly, believing that had been an expert illusion. I was under attack and losing.
    “Grey,” Nash pleaded. “I just want to understand what happened to my brother.”
    My eyes opened with his plea.
    “You’re still my brother, you asshole.” Drew’s voice, obscured and tinny-sounding by the shitty voicemail recording, knocked about in my head. He was so angry as he howled himself hoarse, wondering aloud why I left. Asking why I wouldn’t call back. Telling me what a dick our dad was being to everyone. Before he had finally hung up, his sobs sounded like seizures. That had been when I decided to disconnect my phone, making me the only soldier around