Cary felt very cold. His peacoat was in his seabag. “I think I know what you mean.”
“Nobody’s coming after you with a shotgun, Cary. You didn’t sign a mystic contract with your penis.” She pushed on his upper arm. “Go start your new life, it’s okay.”
“Is that still what you want?”
“Do I want you to start your new life, free of obligation and regret? Yes.” She turned her head toward the road. “There’s a bus coming—is this your bus?”
“I don’t know.”
She grabbed on to his arms. “I’ll write you, okay? Will you write me back?”
“Yeah.”
Itwashis bus. Shiloh didn’t kiss him goodbye or make it easy for him to kiss her. She touched his shoulders and elbows and patted his bag.
The last thing he felt was her hand on the small of his back.
She did write to him. The same sort of letters that she’d written before. About her classes and the plays she was in.
Her letters made Cary feel insane.
He sent postcards back.
He called her a few times. It was hard to catch her in her room. She couldn’t afford long-distance calls, so he told her to call him collect—but he wasn’t always around to take her calls.
When they did talk, it was strange. He was never alone in his barracks.
He wrote her a letter once, saying how he felt—trying to say what he really felt.
Her next letter was exactly the same as all the others.
Nine or ten months after Cary saw Shiloh in Des Moines, Mikey told him that she had a boyfriend.
Cary stopped writing to her.
He realized that she’d already stopped writing to him.
Twenty
Shiloh couldn’t reach her dress, and there were no blankets to pull up over herself.
“You hoped I’d be different?” Her voice came out thick. She was surprised it came out at all. “That’s funny, Cary. I hoped you’d be the same.”
Cary was fastening his belt. He was facing away from her. Straight-backed. Bare-shouldered. Shiloh found his shirt on the bed and threw it in his direction.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “This was a mistake.”
She crossed her legs and pulled a pillow in front of her chest. She was crying now. She tried to stop. “Yeah, I guess that’s how you’ve always seen me.”
He jerked his head around. “What?”
“Don’t look at me,” she said through tears.
“Jesus Christ,” Cary said, like this whole thing was too much for him. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about...” He bent over and felt around the floor. A few seconds later, he held her dress out behind his back.
Shiloh grabbed it. “I’m just agreeing with you. You’re right, I haven’t changed—I’m still someone you’d regret sleeping with.”
“That’s not— I don’tregret—”
