The bell chiming to signal a new customer walking into the bookstore makes me tear my gaze from Leo’s. “I have to go.”
I glide past Leo, catching a whiff of his cologne, which only makes me think of our kiss in his kitchen, with his bare chest pressed up against his old shirt that I refuse to throw away.
The shirt that hasn’t been washed since that night, because it still smells like him.
Later that day, Leo texts me.
Leo: Did I ever tell you about the time we were coming home from Afghanistan, and we had a layover in Dublin?
Me: I don’t think so.
Leo: We got into a drinking game with a couple of locals.
Me: Oh, I definitely didn’t hear about this. I’d have remembered that. How plastered were you?
Leo: Evidently, I lost the ability to move my right foot.
Me: Just your right one? So did you hobble around?
Leo: There’s a video somewhere of me sort of dragging my right leg behind me, and hanging on Sergeant Baker.
Me: Was Baker the one who used to send videos to his kids where he’d sung lullabies?
Leo: No, that was Stitchum. Baker had the two German shepherds that he considered to be his children.
Me: Oh, I remember him! Where he’d watch them on the camera that dispensed treats.
Leo: Yeah, until one of the shepherds actually ate the camera.
Me: Oh no! Did it survive?
Leo: The camera? No. The dog? Yes.
Me: Are Baker and Stitchum still active duty?
Leo: No. Baker was injured the same time as me. Stitchum didn’t make it.
Me: Oh, no. How many children did he have?
Leo: Three.
Leo: They’re doing okay. I keep in touch with their mom. She’s getting married in the summer, actually. Seems like the dude is a good guy. Kids really like him.
Me: That’s good at least. You keep in touch with her? Do you do that with anyone else?
Leo: All of them. I keep in touch with all the wives. It’s my duty as the first sergeant of the squad. I didn’t keep their husbands alive, so I make sure they’re doing okay now.
Me: Is that how you really think of it? Like it’s your fault your convoy hit an IED?
Leo: It doesn’t matter about the semantics, El. They died on my watch.
Me: How would you make things different, if you could?
Leo: Well, they wouldn’t be dead, for one.
Me: I mean anything else. Would you plan your route differently, or move a day later? Would you ask for more insight into the area?
Leo: It wouldn’t have mattered what time we left, or if it was a day earlier or later. The IED was already there.
