Travis rolled his eyes, like that was a complicated question. He looked tearful. “Sir, I just... some days it’s harder to be away from home.”
“Six more weeks, Jones.”
Travis nodded briskly, blinking back tears.
“Is there a crisis?” Cary asked.
The man’s eyes closed briefly. “No, sir. It’s just... my son, sir. He’s had a rough week. He’s been given a rough lot in life.”
Cary wasn’t sure what to say. Travis had been in the Navy at least ten years. With a break for college. He knew about as much as Cary did about the realities of deployment. “How old is your son?”
“Fifteen, sir.”
Cary tried not to widen his eyes. Travis was thirty-one, thirty-two tops.
“What’s his name?”
“Corey, sir. He’s...” Travis opened the work folder he carried. His family’s photo was taped inside, across from a yellow notebook.
There was Travis, in his dress blues. He was a small guy with a smile that looked like a laugh. Pretty wife with red hair—a little older than Travis, it looked like. Three kids under seven or so, and a big adolescent boy who was already as tall as Travis and twice as wide.
Travis pointed at him. “That’s Corey, sir. And that’s my wife, Alicia, and Nevaeh, Travis Jr., and Jasmine.”
In the photo, Travis had his hand on the older boy’s shoulder. All the kids were smiling and wearing nice clothes. This was probably taken at a ceremony.
The ship pitched and caught Cary off guard. His shoulder hit the wall.
Travis gave him a surprised look.
“You have a beautiful family,” Cary said.
“Thank you, sir.”
“I mean it, Travis. You’re lucky.”
Travis knew Cary well enough to know that he wasn’t married. He probably felt sorry for Cary. He probably should.
“Would a phone call help?” Cary asked. “I can get you on the sat phone later.”
“No, sir, thank you.” Travis smiled, rueful. “It was a phone call that fucked me up. Sir. I’ll shake it off. I just... I’m here for them. I hate feeling like I’d be better offtherefor them.”
There wasn’t anything for Cary to say. “Six more weeks, Travis.”
“Yes, sir.”
Fifty-Five
Thank you for the postcard, Cary.
Is that a picture of your ship on the front?! This is going to sound strange, but it’s smaller than I was expecting.
I showed it to Junie, and she wanted me to point to your “apartment.”
Also, thank you for the engraved Zippo lighter. It cracked me up—and, no lie, I’ve always wanted a metal lighter. I love the way they smell.
I feel like this is the sort of lighter someone would have used to light my mother’s cigarettes in 1978.
What else can you get with your ship engraved on it??? Silver flasks? Belt buckles?
