“Alright.” He nods. “While some medical situations disqualify you, it’s not a hard no. It depends on your mobility, pain, things like that. You’d have to get cleared by a doctor, but I appreciate the honesty.”
I hadn’t expected him to still want to talk with me. I assumed that any injury would have him waving me away, but instead, he hands me a brochure and opens it to the second page. “I think we should chat. Right now, we’re offering a twenty thousand dollar sign-on bonus, signing eight year contracts—four active and four reserve. You could travel the world, son, make a difference for your country.”
I stare at the zeros in the brochure. I’ve been lucky enough to not have a lick of debt to my name. My parents worked their asses off to set all of us kids up with the basics once we graduated high school. I never went to college, having been recruited to play ball right away. My salary with the minor leagues wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills easily and left some for a slush fund.
I lived off that savings since my injury, and nearly ran it bone dry before I was healthy enough to start working for my parents on the farm. But farm life doesn’t pay twenty thousand as a sign-on bonus. I could probably save all that. It would give Mags and me a hell of a head start for the future.
“So, what do you say, can I have five minutes?”
Nearly an hour later, I’m stomping through the snowy steps of my parents’ front porch. I kick off my boots by the door and shake my head to release the snowflakes from my shaggy hair.
“You’re way overdue for a haircut, dude,” Harper says as she walks by.
“Should I cut it and dye it green, Disco Barbie?” I tease, nodding to the neon green tips she’s sprouting on the end of her platinum blonde hair.
She spins around as she walks down the long hallway that leads to the dining room and kitchen, flipping me off. “If you could make it look this good, sure thing.”
I smile at her and shake my head. At twenty years old, my little sister is a hellcat, and I sure as hell hope she stays that way.
I follow along in her path, moving through the dining room, and around the large oak table that nearly takes up the entire space with the expander leaves open. It’s set for nearly twenty people, and I furrow my brow, wondering who the hell was invited for today.
“Oh, Lukas!” my mom gasps with her hands behind her as she frantically ties her paisley print apron. “Thank you so much, sweetheart, for running to the store for me. How are the roads?” She presses a soft hand to my cheek in appreciation before spinning around to pass the ham to my grandma.
“It was alright.” I stand awkwardly, watching the two women work in fluid motion. My grandma reaches for a pair of kitchen shears to cut the wrapper off the ham, while my mom returns to peeling what looks like a twenty pound pile of potatoes. “Hey,Mom?” I prompt, and she perks her ear to me without turning around.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“I, uh … need to talk to you guys.”
The tone of my voice has my mom pausing her motions with a half-peeled potato balancing on one palm. She drops the spud, rubbing her hands on the skirt of her apron. “Everything okay, honey? Do you feel alright?”
“Yeah … I…” I whoosh out a heavy breath and pull the paperwork from the back of my pocket. With trembling hands, I open it up and hand it over to her, her eyes widening as she reads. “I think I just joined the Marines.”
“Lukas, tell me you’re kidding.”
Magnolia’s voice wavers with the words. I turn off the light and take a few paces toward my bed, the mattress creaking under my weight. “I’m not kidding, baby. I know it’s a surprise, hell, it was to me, too.”
I had planned to go to the grocery store for a ham … never thought I’d end up agreeing to join the military. “I still have to get a final clearance from their doctor, but if that’s approved, I could head to basic training as soon as January first.”
“January first, as in like, less than two months?” she whispers. “That’s so soon, this won’t work, I…”
My heart seizes in my chest. “What do you mean this won’t work? Yeah, it’s going to be a change, and more dangerous, but it could also be really good for me, Mags—for us. I’ll just be in California for a while instead of Iowa.”
She's silent on the other end of the line, and I lie back in bed, adjusting the pillows under me, settling in for the night.
“They aren’t renewing my contract.”
I shoot up straight at her words. “What do you mean they aren’t renewing your contract?” Mags has been with the same ballet theater since she was eighteen. They’ve graciously renewed her contract every year. We’re used to the routine, and the dancers she works with are some of her best friends. “How could they do that to you when you’ve given them everything for the last four fucking years?"
I can hear her whimper on the other end of the line, and I scrub a hand over my face, reeling my anger back in. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m not mad at you, obviously. I just can’t believe this happened.” I had expected my team to throw me away once I was injured. As pissed off as I am, I can’t completely blame them. But Mags is a phenomenal dancer. I don’t think she has ever missed a practice or a performance. She’s never suffered a serious injury that forced her to sit out.
“I guess, I’ve plateaued,” she whispers. “It happens. It’s pretty rare a dancer stays with the same agency their entire career. There are younger girls applying every day.”
“You’re still young,” I point out, and she huffs.
“So, what now?” Her schedule with The Ballet Theater, while strenuous, was somewhat routine. We knew when we had time for longer calls. We knew in advance when she got breaks and we could visit one another. Not knowing where she’ll end up, what the company will be like, combined with my now changing careers might make things a lot harder than they have been.
“It means I need to start auditioning with other companies. I was talking with one of the instructors after class today. She was just as upset as I am. But she … she has connections at other companies and suggested trying to go freelance.”
