and his thick, dirty blond hair needed a real haircut, but he hadn’t made it yet to the barber.
Out in the kitchen, he found the coffee and fixed a bowl of cold cereal. Katie’s brand. So sweet it made his teeth ache, but the box and bowl were right on the table. Proximity was all these days.
He picked up a few sections of the newspaper, balanced them on the walker, and ambled into the living room.
He was just about to sit down when a knock sounded on the front door. These people wanted their Christmas trees. They didn’t care how rude they were.
David decided to just ignore it. They would go away eventually, like the bell ringers. Still, curiosity made him peer out the window to get a look. He tried to step back quickly but it was too late.
She had seen him.
Christine. She was at the door.
What was she doing here?
She knocked again, harder this time. Then she called out to him. “David? Are you there? It’s just me, Christine.”
Just Christine? The two words were totally contradictory. At least, by his definitions.
He let out a long breath and stood up straight. Would she go away if he said he wasn’t feeling well? Doing that meant he would have to talk to her, through the door. That seemed childish, weak. He didn’t want her to think he had turned into a complete invalid.
At least he was dressed, sort of. He looked down at his bare feet and wished he had put on shoes. Too late now.
He had to face her sooner or later. It was probably better to get this over with. Like yanking off a bandage. He looked like a slob, but maybe that was better, too.
“Just a minute. Be right there,” he called back.
He smoothed his hair down with his hand and headed for the door. He had been to war, for Christmas’ sake. He had fought in battles with bullets whizzing by his head and mortar explosions. But he suddenly felt he would rather face enemy gunfire again than open that door and face her.
You can do this, he coached himself. It’s just . . . Christine.
David settled the walker to one side of the door, then pulled it open. She stood in the doorway a minute and stared, taking him in from head to toe.
It was just for an instant—a heartbeat, really—before her features relaxed into a smile. But that single, swift look spoke volumes. His appearance had shocked her. He looked worse than he thought, her reaction said. Much worse.
He suddenly felt embarrassed. Why had he opened the door for her? He couldn’t remember now.
“Hey, David. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by like this. I was on my way to town and I wanted to say hello. I called a few times, but I kept missing you.”
“Yeah . . . I know. Sorry about that.” David didn’t know what to say. If she suspected that his father had been making excuses for him, she hid it well.
“You’re up and around, I see,” she said cheerfully. “That’s good, right?”
“I’m pretty mobile with this thing.” He slapped the side of the walker, which felt like a metal cage about then.
“How do you feel?” she asked, her voice low and sincere.
“Oh . . . coming along. I had a few operations. On my legs mostly.” He wanted to slap himself for going into that. She didn’t need to hear his medical history. He was starting to sound like an old man.
“Yes, your father told me. At a hospital in Germany, right?”
“That’s right. I was airlifted there after . . . after the army medical unit in Iraq.” He felt suddenly awkward, unsure of what to say or do next or how much to tell her. It had been a long time since he had been in the company of a girl.
He looked up and forced a smile. “You look great,” he said sincerely. She did, too. She hadn’t changed a bit. Tall and slim with long blond hair, pulled back today in a ponytail. She had the best smile. He’d always thought so anyway.
“How’s school going?” he asked her. A good topic to get into, instead of his ailments, he thought.
“School is great. I’m just finishing my course
Out in the kitchen, he found the coffee and fixed a bowl of cold cereal. Katie’s brand. So sweet it made his teeth ache, but the box and bowl were right on the table. Proximity was all these days.
He picked up a few sections of the newspaper, balanced them on the walker, and ambled into the living room.
He was just about to sit down when a knock sounded on the front door. These people wanted their Christmas trees. They didn’t care how rude they were.
David decided to just ignore it. They would go away eventually, like the bell ringers. Still, curiosity made him peer out the window to get a look. He tried to step back quickly but it was too late.
She had seen him.
Christine. She was at the door.
What was she doing here?
She knocked again, harder this time. Then she called out to him. “David? Are you there? It’s just me, Christine.”
Just Christine? The two words were totally contradictory. At least, by his definitions.
He let out a long breath and stood up straight. Would she go away if he said he wasn’t feeling well? Doing that meant he would have to talk to her, through the door. That seemed childish, weak. He didn’t want her to think he had turned into a complete invalid.
At least he was dressed, sort of. He looked down at his bare feet and wished he had put on shoes. Too late now.
He had to face her sooner or later. It was probably better to get this over with. Like yanking off a bandage. He looked like a slob, but maybe that was better, too.
“Just a minute. Be right there,” he called back.
He smoothed his hair down with his hand and headed for the door. He had been to war, for Christmas’ sake. He had fought in battles with bullets whizzing by his head and mortar explosions. But he suddenly felt he would rather face enemy gunfire again than open that door and face her.
You can do this, he coached himself. It’s just . . . Christine.
David settled the walker to one side of the door, then pulled it open. She stood in the doorway a minute and stared, taking him in from head to toe.
It was just for an instant—a heartbeat, really—before her features relaxed into a smile. But that single, swift look spoke volumes. His appearance had shocked her. He looked worse than he thought, her reaction said. Much worse.
He suddenly felt embarrassed. Why had he opened the door for her? He couldn’t remember now.
“Hey, David. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by like this. I was on my way to town and I wanted to say hello. I called a few times, but I kept missing you.”
“Yeah . . . I know. Sorry about that.” David didn’t know what to say. If she suspected that his father had been making excuses for him, she hid it well.
“You’re up and around, I see,” she said cheerfully. “That’s good, right?”
“I’m pretty mobile with this thing.” He slapped the side of the walker, which felt like a metal cage about then.
“How do you feel?” she asked, her voice low and sincere.
“Oh . . . coming along. I had a few operations. On my legs mostly.” He wanted to slap himself for going into that. She didn’t need to hear his medical history. He was starting to sound like an old man.
“Yes, your father told me. At a hospital in Germany, right?”
“That’s right. I was airlifted there after . . . after the army medical unit in Iraq.” He felt suddenly awkward, unsure of what to say or do next or how much to tell her. It had been a long time since he had been in the company of a girl.
He looked up and forced a smile. “You look great,” he said sincerely. She did, too. She hadn’t changed a bit. Tall and slim with long blond hair, pulled back today in a ponytail. She had the best smile. He’d always thought so anyway.
“How’s school going?” he asked her. A good topic to get into, instead of his ailments, he thought.
“School is great. I’m just finishing my course
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