The Bud Light was icy cold, and Hannah Carter grinned at the golden liquid that had sprayed her wrist as she cracked open the can and took a long, hearty sip. After she swallowed her fill, she leaned back against the windshield of her old seventy-six Chevy truck and crossed her ankles to stare at the soon to be setting sun and the vast desert before her. Next to her, on the side of the road, several kids screamed with delight as a fighter jet flew straight for them and then pulled up at the last second, soaring up into the rainbow sherbet sky. Hannah laughed at the enjoyment of the children and the rush the plane had brought on. She rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms and toasted the plane by holding her beer can up in the air.
“F-16?” her son, Casey, asked as he tossed her his unopened Coke and climbed onto the truck to sit next to her.
“Think so.”
“Badass.”
“Yep.”
As he settled in, his short sandy hair blew in the breeze and his angled jaw flexed as his long fingers worked the Coke can, eventually snapping it open and shaking the excess soda from his hand.
“Blue Angels fly yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Good.”
He slurped his drink and relaxed just as two more fighters did maneuvers overhead.
Hannah watched in amazement.
“I never get over this. It gets to me every damn year.” She’d been bringing Casey to the rehearsal for the annual air show for over ten years now. From back when he was just a little guy, all grin and ears. She glanced over at him and shaded her brow. He’d grown into his ears, but his grin was still as broad as ever and shit-eating to boot.
“What?” He’d caught her looking.
“You’re a handsome devil.”
He shook his head. “Whatever.”
“You are. Eighteen and as handsome as all get-out.”
Red plumed his cheeks, and she let it go, loving his modesty as well. Someday, he’d make someone very, very happy. And she couldn’t wait to see it happen.
She stared off toward the towering purple mountains where the sun hung just above, wavering, trying to decide if it wanted to turn in for the night. Yes, the moment was perfect save for one thing. She cringed as the feeling of loss seeped in. That deep pain resonated in her gut, the one that always came when she thought about Sasha. She’d try to swallow against it, or cough or even try to outrun it. But it always remained until it had had its fill of slowly digesting her insides, leaving her feeling even emptier than before.
“I’m being eaten alive,” she whispered before she downed the rest of her beer. A tear snuck down her face and she let it. She was growing tired of wiping them away. Let them run, let them drip, let them meander. She couldn’t stop them, and what was the use? She was heartbroken.
Casey cleared his throat, and she somehow knew he’d seen the tear.
“Sasha?” he asked.
She didn’t answer verbally, didn’t need to. He nodded.
“Yeah, this is great and all, but there’s definitely one thing missing.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She followed another set of fighters for as far as she could see. One shot straight up while the others remained in formation. She prayed that focusing on the planes would quell the mad feast going on in her insides. But the pain kept on devouring. She touched her abdomen and willed it to stop.
“You never want to talk about it.”
“Well, maybe there’s a reason.” She’d lost weight since Sasha had left. Twenty pounds. She swore it had all been muscle too, for she felt different, weaker. Like a goddamned sack of walking bones.
Casey sat up and fumbled in his bag. He pulled out sunscreen and tossed it to her. “We all have to talk about things that cause pain, Mom. It’s how we get over them.”
“There’s no getting over Sasha.”
He looked at her and patted her forearm, encouraging the application of the sunscreen. “Then go after her. Call her. Do something.”
“I can’t. She made it clear she needed space. She made it clear she doesn’t want me around. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s better this way.”
Casey scoffed. “My God, Mom, sometimes you are so much like a caveman. It’s a miracle you won her heart at all.”
“Hey, easy.” She rubbed on the warm lotion and then applied some to her face. She was getting dark, and Casey was always commenting about how he preferred not to have a leather satchel for a mother.
“I’m serious. I feel for Sash. I really do. You’re impossible sometimes.”
“I’m doing what she wants.”
“You’re doing what you want. Which is not risking another rejection.”
Casey offered her another beer, but she declined. She couldn’t handle anything else in her stomach. Instead she sat back, inhaled the tropical scent of the sunscreen, and tried to find some soaring planes to focus on. At the moment, she wasn’t having any luck.
After a long silence, Casey spoke. “Did you call her today?”
Great. There it was. The sword of all swords. He was bringing up Sasha’s birthday. Her fortieth. He didn’t know it, but he had just killed her, stabbed her right through the gut.
“I texted her.”
“Oh my God.”
“Casey, honestly, let up a little.”
“It’s her fortieth!”
“Yes, I’m aware. But I—I wasn’t brave enough to call, okay? Besides, she was at work, and if the call pissed her off then she’d be at work all pissed off and it just wouldn’t have been good.”
“Did she respond?”
“She thanked me.”
“Oh, how romantic. The two of you are a nightmare.”
“Then leave us alone.”
“I can’t!” He tossed the sunscreen into his bag and sighed. “You two love each other. Like deeply love each other. That is so rare. Don’t you know what you have? Why do you think all my friends wanted to hang out at our house growing up? Their parents were shitty; they fought all the time or they didn’t speak. But you and Sash, you guys were just so easy. You fit together. You worked. And you didn’t even have to try.”
Hannah closed her eyes. She remembered those days. When things were easy and kisses were soft and embraces were long. She’d come home from work, and Sasha would be in the kitchen, sashaying to Led Zeppelin or Steppenwolf, wine glass in her hand. She’d make dinner while she and Casey did a few chores. Then they’d all settle in and eat and laugh and share. And there’d usually be a young boy or two joining them. Casey’s friends. They’d talk for hours, clean the kitchen together, and then change into pj’s and crash on the couch to watch television. Many a night she’d awaken only to find Casey and Sasha fast asleep. She’d carry first Casey, and then Sasha to bed. Her loves. Her little sleeping loves. Oh, how her heart had been full then.
The shrill of fighters forced open her eyes. She watched as one tore right by them seemingly tearing her heart from her chest as it did so.
“Things are different now,” she said into the wind.
Casey heard her, but he continued to watch the planes. “Yeah, I know. But why? And why aren’t you trying to fix it?”
“Because she doesn’t want me to.”
He shook his head. “Bullshit, Mom. I may be a man, but I know for a fact that is bullshit. You have to try.” He dug his phone from his back pocket. “You’ve got to go tonight. You have to.”
“I wasn’t invited.”
“So?”
She rolled her eyes. “So, I’d feel like an ass.”
“I was invited. You’ll come as my guest.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Casey.”
“Well, thank God I never listen to you then.” He hopped down from the truck and brushed off the back of his jeans. He began packing up. “Well, come on then. We gotta go get ready.”
“Casey—”
“Don’t argue, just do. Isn’t that what you always told me? For once in your life you’re going to listen to me. And we’re going.” He stopped to glare at her. “Go on, get your ass off of that truck.”
She thought about arguing, about absolutely refusing. But Casey was determined, and she knew he was right. She should go. Despite it all. But the truth was she was afraid. How much rejection could she take?
She eased down off the truck and fished in her pocket for her keys.
One thing was for certain.
She was about to find out.