rule.
“Specialist Loy,” he said when he answered the phone. His voice sounded softer than I expected. And kind. I’m not sure if I can explain what a
kind
voice sounds like. Sort of even and deep. In the background a man yelled, “You sunk my fucking battleship!” Two or three other guys in the room laughed at that. I didn’t say anything right away. I just sort of let his voice sink in. “Loy here,” he said after a moment. The second time he spoke he sounded impatient, not irritated, more like he was pressed for time.
“Hey,” I said, “Specialist Loy.”
“Hey.” His voice changed again. It became even softer and there was a hint of something new in it. Playfulness, maybe. “Who’s this?”
“This is, uh—”
“Lynn?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“It is.” I flopped down on the couch and put my bare feet up against the wall. The kitchen phone’s cord stretched tight as a laundry line.
“I didn’t expect you to actually call.”
“Why not?” I pinged the cord with my big toe and tried to imagine his face. A medium-sized forehead and dark, well-defined eyebrows. A nice, straight nose and good-sized lips. A dimple in his chin. No, no, scratch that, I thought. No chin dimples. It ruined the picture.
“I don’t know,” he said. There was a muffled crash on his end. I heard him tell someone to take it outside.
“Do you have a roommate?”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t him. Just some guys from down the hall throwing a football around.”
I didn’t know what to say. My belly felt like it was full of buzzing radio static. I sat up straight and put my feet on the floor. I watched the moisture prints on the wall shrink and vanish.
“Lynn?” His voice got just the teeniest bit higher. “You still there?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Sorry.”
“You know, you sound a lot like I imagined you would. What are you doing?”
“I’m bored. I’m stuck in the house today.”
“I wish I could drive up there and do something fun with you, but I’ve got to do some bullshit scut work. Excuse my language. I got in trouble this morning.”
“In trouble for what?”
“Oh, it was stupid.” He let out a long breath. “I failed room inspection three times this week, so now I’ve got to go rake pea gravel up on the roof of the armory.”
“Was your room really messy?” I pictured dirty socks on the floor and wrinkled uniforms tossed over the back of a chair.
“No, my sergeant just has it out for me. He has ever since I got transferred to his unit. I never even got discharged. As soon as I came home, they just reassigned me. I got stop-lossed, you know?”
Logan explained why this stop-loss business was bullshit. For a year they’d been telling him he’d get out on such-and-such a day. Less than a month before he was set to leave, they showed him the fine print on his contract, which basically said the Army had him as long as they needed him. All his plans were ruined in the time it takes to drink a Coke. He’d already signed up for a graphic design course at the DeVry Institute. His dream was to illustrate graphic novels. To top it off, nothing Logan did was good enough for his new sergeant. This last time he got in trouble it was because his bed wasn’t made right. The sergeant couldn’t bounce a quarter off it. If he messed up one more time, the man threatened to “section his ass.” I couldn’t help but imagine an ass being pried apart like a grapefruit.
“A quarter?” I asked, thinking of my bed.
“He has it in for me. I’d leave today if I could.”
“Why don’t you then?”
He groaned. “I wish it were that simple. I’d be in a world of shit if I just up and left. Take a lesson from me. Always read the small print before you sign your name to something.”
“You couldn’t just run away? Go to Canada or something? No one could say you were a coward. I mean, you already went once, right?”
“I guess.” He paused for a second, like he might actually be
“Specialist Loy,” he said when he answered the phone. His voice sounded softer than I expected. And kind. I’m not sure if I can explain what a
kind
voice sounds like. Sort of even and deep. In the background a man yelled, “You sunk my fucking battleship!” Two or three other guys in the room laughed at that. I didn’t say anything right away. I just sort of let his voice sink in. “Loy here,” he said after a moment. The second time he spoke he sounded impatient, not irritated, more like he was pressed for time.
“Hey,” I said, “Specialist Loy.”
“Hey.” His voice changed again. It became even softer and there was a hint of something new in it. Playfulness, maybe. “Who’s this?”
“This is, uh—”
“Lynn?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“It is.” I flopped down on the couch and put my bare feet up against the wall. The kitchen phone’s cord stretched tight as a laundry line.
“I didn’t expect you to actually call.”
“Why not?” I pinged the cord with my big toe and tried to imagine his face. A medium-sized forehead and dark, well-defined eyebrows. A nice, straight nose and good-sized lips. A dimple in his chin. No, no, scratch that, I thought. No chin dimples. It ruined the picture.
“I don’t know,” he said. There was a muffled crash on his end. I heard him tell someone to take it outside.
“Do you have a roommate?”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t him. Just some guys from down the hall throwing a football around.”
I didn’t know what to say. My belly felt like it was full of buzzing radio static. I sat up straight and put my feet on the floor. I watched the moisture prints on the wall shrink and vanish.
“Lynn?” His voice got just the teeniest bit higher. “You still there?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Sorry.”
“You know, you sound a lot like I imagined you would. What are you doing?”
“I’m bored. I’m stuck in the house today.”
“I wish I could drive up there and do something fun with you, but I’ve got to do some bullshit scut work. Excuse my language. I got in trouble this morning.”
“In trouble for what?”
“Oh, it was stupid.” He let out a long breath. “I failed room inspection three times this week, so now I’ve got to go rake pea gravel up on the roof of the armory.”
“Was your room really messy?” I pictured dirty socks on the floor and wrinkled uniforms tossed over the back of a chair.
“No, my sergeant just has it out for me. He has ever since I got transferred to his unit. I never even got discharged. As soon as I came home, they just reassigned me. I got stop-lossed, you know?”
Logan explained why this stop-loss business was bullshit. For a year they’d been telling him he’d get out on such-and-such a day. Less than a month before he was set to leave, they showed him the fine print on his contract, which basically said the Army had him as long as they needed him. All his plans were ruined in the time it takes to drink a Coke. He’d already signed up for a graphic design course at the DeVry Institute. His dream was to illustrate graphic novels. To top it off, nothing Logan did was good enough for his new sergeant. This last time he got in trouble it was because his bed wasn’t made right. The sergeant couldn’t bounce a quarter off it. If he messed up one more time, the man threatened to “section his ass.” I couldn’t help but imagine an ass being pried apart like a grapefruit.
“A quarter?” I asked, thinking of my bed.
“He has it in for me. I’d leave today if I could.”
“Why don’t you then?”
He groaned. “I wish it were that simple. I’d be in a world of shit if I just up and left. Take a lesson from me. Always read the small print before you sign your name to something.”
“You couldn’t just run away? Go to Canada or something? No one could say you were a coward. I mean, you already went once, right?”
“I guess.” He paused for a second, like he might actually be
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