Out There: a novel by Sarah Stark Page A

ride and the waiting and the walk back to the neighborhood. Though he felt that in some ways it had gone well, he also knew he would not be returning to her office, and he was not sure which part of the story to share with Esco. She’d become a worrier, and this fact made him uncomfortable and generally complicated their conversations.
    “The office walls were blue,” he said finally.
    “Yeah?”
    “Yep, sort of an ocean blue. Dark, but calming.”
    “So that’s it?”
    “Pretty much.”
    Knowing that food would be a good distraction, he began opening cabinets and feigning hunger. Esco hovered a few feet away, pretending to sort mail.
    It was impossible to find anything in his grandmother’s cabinets. She had a horrible sense of order, and so, as Jefferson thought back to the meeting with the doctor in Albuquerque, he began taking all the spices and cans of food out of the pantry and sorting them into groups on the counter. If someone had asked him, he would have said there were no better words in the entire novel for him to share with the young doctor than the ones he’d chosen. Out there. He chuckled to himself, thinking what perfect words, what a gift that he had been able to recall them just before he’d had to leave the office, and he felt himself swell with pride. It was a good example of everyone doing his or her part to make the world a better place. Him, Jefferson Long Soldier, reciting the perfect words to her, Dr. Wesleyan, the words she needed to hear if she was going to put herself out there like that, trying to help ex-soldiers, trying to get in their heads and reshuffle their bad stuff. There had also been a few looks of interest among the veterans in the waiting room as he had continued chanting while being escorted from the office.
    He hummed the words again now as he spooned peanut butter onto a rice cake.
    You ask where I have been and I answer: Out there. Out there.
    Jefferson felt confident that at least one of those guys in the waiting room had benefited from his recitations. He told himself, just as he’d told himself every day in the war zone, that if he’d reached one person, that was enough to make the effort worthwhile.
     
    Esco moved closer to Jefferson, trying to remind him that she was there, she was standing right next to him. Where had his mind traveled now? What was all this garbled humming? And what did he plan to do with that pile of blankets on the couch?
    “Are you hungry?” she asked. “I was gonna make dinner in a little bit, but I could start now.” She gave a heavy sigh as she surveyed the contents of her cabinets, strewn across the counter, and clucked her tongue. She didn’t really mind, though; it wasn’t the first time Jefferson had organized her cabinets. In fact, it was one of the things she’d missed when he was at war. She would not have chosen this moment for it, but then again, at least he was home and alive. Let him do it. Busy his brain and his hands with something a little more useful than finger-crocheting and chanting.
    Ah, he was a little heavy now, but the skin-and-bones would be back soon enough. That was his nature. She’d probably never stop worrying that Jefferson was undernourished, even now when he was eight pounds pudgy and eating peanut butter. As a baby he’d been underweight and prone to ear infections, and then too, she would always be the grandmother, trying to make amends. Feeding Jefferson had been the best way she knew to try to make things seem okay for him.
    He was smiling at her, that goofy smile that was new since he’d returned, almost like he’d had a stroke and was visiting a distant galaxy, and now he smacked another bite of the peanut butter rice cake and told her he could wait for dinner. He just wanted a snack.
    “Okay, sweetie. Okay.” She took the sponge from the sink and began to wipe down the countertop where the rice cake had crumbled.
     
    Jefferson hoped Esco wasn’t upset. Her short round frame bent down and