children ran and yelled. Young wives cuddled against the husbands. A fair part of the crowd had tears in their eyes.
“You boys hungry?” her dad asked after a while.
“I could eat a frozen cow,” Robbie said. “The Corps fed us in Kabul.”
“They didn’t give you anything on the plane?” Amanda asked.
“Nope. Air Force doesn’t do in-flight meals, and the connection from Florida wasn’t long enough for one.”
“Well, we can take care of that,” her mother said. “Any preference on where to go?”
“Anywhere with decent beer on tap.”
Dylan stayed quiet.
The baggage return started up with a clanking groan. Scarred duffel bags rose from the bowels of the machine. A few suitcases mixed with the green and tan.
She elbowed her brother. “You don’t look old enough to drink.”
“Twenty bucks says I don’t get carded in this getup, though.” He tugged his lapel with the Marine insignia sewn onto it.
It melted her heart to see him so happy. “No deal. What about you, Dylan? Are you old enough to order a beer?”
“Almost.” He said it with a rueful grin. “I’m old enough to die for my country, but I have to do it sober.”
“Not in Wisconsin, you don’t,” her dad said. “We’ll see to that.”
“There’s your bag,” Robbie told Dylan. The other soldier yanked it off the conveyor and dragged it over. It was half as big as he was.
A minute later Robbie’s came around the turn. Luggage in hand, they all headed out to the parking lot.
Unwinding
A MANDA poured a dollop of Bailey’s into her coffee and gave it a stir. The back porch light buzzed on the other side of the window. “You sure you don’t want anything else?” she called into the living room.
Robbie grunted something unintelligible.
“I’m good,” Dylan said.
“Not even a coffee?”
“You have any decaf?”
She rooted through the box of plastic cups and came up with one that had an orange on black foil top. “Sure do. Cream? Sugar?” She slotted it into the coffee maker and grabbed one of the Go Badgers! cups from the cupboard.
“Black.”
When the coffee finished, she gathered both steaming mugs and carried them back to the living room. Robbie and Dylan each had one end of the couch, so she passed Dylan his mug and lowered herself between them.
“You guys going to watch another game?”
The TV blared on with ESPN talking heads blabbing about LSU squeaking out a win and whether that would get them ahead of Oregon in the polls. She didn’t care. If it wasn’t the Badgers, it didn’t matter in her book.
Robbie shrugged. Grunted again.
“That’s good coffee,” Dylan said. “You have a French press in there?”
“It’s just a k-cup. Why?”
“You haven’t had coffee until you’ve had it in the Middle East. They take that shit seriously over there.”
Robbie shifted beside her, crossing a foot over his knee.
“You okay, Robs?” she asked.
“I’m…” He pushed up from the couch. “Be right back.” He half-ran, half-stumbled toward the bathroom.
“What’s wrong with him?”
Dylan took a sip. “He’s a lightweight.” The bottles on the end table clinked as he pushed them together to make room for his mug. There were even more on Robbie’s side, and some crumpled cans to boot.
“You’re holding up okay, though.”
“He’s had like fourteen beers or something stupid. Doesn’t know how to pace himself.” He glanced at her.
“You’re hardly old enough to be an expert. You said you weren’t even 21.”
“Just twenty.”
“So how have you been in the Marines for three years?”
“I joined when I was 17. They let me signup a year early.”
“Your parents were okay with that?”
He laughed. “Parents? I bounced between foster homes my whole life. The folks that had me the last six months were happy to be rid of me.”
“Oh. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is. What about you? Robbie said--”
“I’m adopted. I was just a baby. Not much
“You boys hungry?” her dad asked after a while.
“I could eat a frozen cow,” Robbie said. “The Corps fed us in Kabul.”
“They didn’t give you anything on the plane?” Amanda asked.
“Nope. Air Force doesn’t do in-flight meals, and the connection from Florida wasn’t long enough for one.”
“Well, we can take care of that,” her mother said. “Any preference on where to go?”
“Anywhere with decent beer on tap.”
Dylan stayed quiet.
The baggage return started up with a clanking groan. Scarred duffel bags rose from the bowels of the machine. A few suitcases mixed with the green and tan.
She elbowed her brother. “You don’t look old enough to drink.”
“Twenty bucks says I don’t get carded in this getup, though.” He tugged his lapel with the Marine insignia sewn onto it.
It melted her heart to see him so happy. “No deal. What about you, Dylan? Are you old enough to order a beer?”
“Almost.” He said it with a rueful grin. “I’m old enough to die for my country, but I have to do it sober.”
“Not in Wisconsin, you don’t,” her dad said. “We’ll see to that.”
“There’s your bag,” Robbie told Dylan. The other soldier yanked it off the conveyor and dragged it over. It was half as big as he was.
A minute later Robbie’s came around the turn. Luggage in hand, they all headed out to the parking lot.
Unwinding
A MANDA poured a dollop of Bailey’s into her coffee and gave it a stir. The back porch light buzzed on the other side of the window. “You sure you don’t want anything else?” she called into the living room.
Robbie grunted something unintelligible.
“I’m good,” Dylan said.
“Not even a coffee?”
“You have any decaf?”
She rooted through the box of plastic cups and came up with one that had an orange on black foil top. “Sure do. Cream? Sugar?” She slotted it into the coffee maker and grabbed one of the Go Badgers! cups from the cupboard.
“Black.”
When the coffee finished, she gathered both steaming mugs and carried them back to the living room. Robbie and Dylan each had one end of the couch, so she passed Dylan his mug and lowered herself between them.
“You guys going to watch another game?”
The TV blared on with ESPN talking heads blabbing about LSU squeaking out a win and whether that would get them ahead of Oregon in the polls. She didn’t care. If it wasn’t the Badgers, it didn’t matter in her book.
Robbie shrugged. Grunted again.
“That’s good coffee,” Dylan said. “You have a French press in there?”
“It’s just a k-cup. Why?”
“You haven’t had coffee until you’ve had it in the Middle East. They take that shit seriously over there.”
Robbie shifted beside her, crossing a foot over his knee.
“You okay, Robs?” she asked.
“I’m…” He pushed up from the couch. “Be right back.” He half-ran, half-stumbled toward the bathroom.
“What’s wrong with him?”
Dylan took a sip. “He’s a lightweight.” The bottles on the end table clinked as he pushed them together to make room for his mug. There were even more on Robbie’s side, and some crumpled cans to boot.
“You’re holding up okay, though.”
“He’s had like fourteen beers or something stupid. Doesn’t know how to pace himself.” He glanced at her.
“You’re hardly old enough to be an expert. You said you weren’t even 21.”
“Just twenty.”
“So how have you been in the Marines for three years?”
“I joined when I was 17. They let me signup a year early.”
“Your parents were okay with that?”
He laughed. “Parents? I bounced between foster homes my whole life. The folks that had me the last six months were happy to be rid of me.”
“Oh. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is. What about you? Robbie said--”
“I’m adopted. I was just a baby. Not much
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