“Wow, thank you.” I don’t tell her that I thought about flaking, then didn’t. Personal growth or whatever.
“Your hair isveryshiny today.”
“Thanks, I condition,” I say, and we both take bites of our respective wraps. God, this is good. The only place you can get falafel in Sprucevale is this one diner that’s near downtown, and it’s not worth it.
“But you do look a little rough. Which I say out of loving concern.”
“Next time I’m in town, we’re getting lunch on my first day, not my last day,” I say. “I always look like shit after a couple days with my family.”
“I thought you were leaving Saturday.”
“Change of plans.” I take another bite. Castillo watches me expectantly, with this look of distaste. I’m ninety-five percent sure the distaste is at the thought of changing plans. “I’m heading back after lunch because I got into a fight with my dad and then a fight with my momaboutthe fight with my dad and then?—”
I stop mid-sentence because: should I tell her? Wasn’t it about twelve hours ago that we agreed to secrecy? Except it’sCastillo, who’s seen me do way worse things and still puts up with me and who also doesn’t know any of these people. Who’s she gonna tell?
“—do you remember about two years ago, not long after I got out of rehab, I went to a bar and hooked up with someone?”
“Sure. The highlight of your social calendar that year, I believe.”
“My social calendar was great, thanks.” It was not. “I saw her again.”
“Do you mean you literally saw her or you had sex with her?” she asks.
“Sex,” I say around a mouthful of falafel.
Castillo, also chewing, gives me a thumbs-up. “Fun again?” she asks after she swallows.
“Fun again.”
“There are worse ways to blow off steam.” She shrugs. “Unless that’s why you’re running back to the boondocks earlier than you’d planned? I know you…”
She stops, wrap held in front of her, and looks like she’s trying to figure out the next move in a game of chess. Castillo is one of my favorite people on the planet, but nuance is not necessarily her strong suit.
I raise one eyebrow because I’m not helping her out of this one.
“…had a thing for her,” she finishes, and I’m already shaking my headno.
“She’s cool,” I say, which is true. “And we had a good time together, but there’s nothing else there.” I look Castillo dead in the eye because I’m telling her the truth and that’s what you do when you’re telling the truth and you want someone to know that you’re telling the truth.
Castillo just nods. “What was the fight with your dad about?”
Ten minutes later, we’re both finished eating, I’ve just gotten throughand then she called both my siblings, and Castillo is making a face.
“I don’t blame you for leaving early,” she says, and then, “You living with your dad would be a terrible idea. One of you would murder the other. And if you did the murdering, you’d go to jail.”
I just look at her.
“He’d probably be court-martialed and disciplined but not given a jail sentence,” she explains. “Come on. Admiral Lopez is going to do a better cover-up job than you would, and I’m sure he’s got plenty of favors to call in, not to mention friends in high places.”
I consider arguing, but I don’t really want to talk about getting murdered by my own father, so instead I ask, “How are you?”
“I’m well,” she says, accepting the subject change.
“You look great,” I add belatedly, but it’s true: Castillo is always polished and put-together in a way I couldn’t even dream of. Obviously one of us made a better Marine than the other.
“My collection got a pub date, and I think I’m dating someone.” A hint of a smile tugs at one corner of her mouth.
“Mmph!” Baklava flakes shower onto my plate. Castillo looks unimpressed. “When? Can I preorder it?”
