Farm Tag

Chapter 13. « Military. »

"Marshall, get out of that body."

"What about Sonya? You gonna leave her alone too?"

"She's already dated a soldier, she knows how to be patient."

I look away, gritting my teeth. They talked about their past.

"You can have your bed back, isn't that a good thing?"

"It's just a bed."

"It's not just a bed. When you've been in the army, it's heaven."

"Excuse us, big guy."

He smiles and tucks one of my locks behind my ear, revealing my face.

"Do you still hate the army so much now?"

I bend my knees against me.

"Shut up."

"I'm not leaving, kid."

I look at him, frowning.

"Haven't you seen what my legs look like? It'll take me at least a year to get back into my routine. I'm not going back to the army anytime soon."

"You lied to me, you bastard!"

I punch him in the torso and he bursts out laughing, falling backwards.

"It was so cute, I thought you were going to cry for me."

"You're crushing my book."

"I'm as light as a feather."

"My box spring contradicts you."

"Your box spring loves me."

"Are you really dating Sonya?"

He gets to his feet with the help of his abs and stands up.

"She's cute."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Why are you so interested, kid?"

"You want to know why Quentin hates me, I also want to know a little more about you."

"She invited me to dinner the other night, which is why I wasn't there."

"Did you kiss her?"

"I shouldn't have?"

He smiles at me. I pick up my things and put them in my bag.

"I'm really happy for you."

"It would suck if you were sad."

"I won't give you the pleasure."

"Says the girl who was on the verge of tears two seconds ago."

"Shut up!"

"You're lucky I can't run."

I step back and taunt him with a smile.

"Oh, that sucks."

"Go ahead, make fun of me."

"You know, I've always hated the military. I think you're all arrogant, you feel superior because you're protecting our country."

"It's true."

"See? You are arrogant."

"What else?"

I keep looking at the sky, pretending to think.

"Oh, you're assholes, pieces of shit. You hit your wives. You text when you're on duty, when there are beautiful things called letters."

He keeps moving towards me, his eyes darkening.

"Pretty guy has a chain with plates and all the girls are throwing themselves at him? You poor thing, your life really does suck."

I jump when I feel something touch my back, it's the fence of the paddock. Reid approaches me, his hands resting on the fence beside my shoulders.

"The military isn't all the same, just so you know. If we settle for texts, it's because we don't have time to write to you, put on lipstick and kiss our letters. War isn't like in the movies, it's romanticized to make you think it's manly to be a soldier."

He's getting closer and closer to me.

"But all you get from being in the army is fear. The constant fear of losing your comrades, the fear of getting shot every time you're not under cover and never seeing the faces of those you love again. It's seeing the faces of your loved ones as you feel your strength ebbing away because your body is bleeding out in enemy territory while you haven't even blown out your 50 candles yet.
Want to know why we all have two plates that turn you on?"

He pulls his necklace out of his T-shirt and takes his two plates in his hand.

"This, kid, is no passing fad. These plates stand up to extreme conditions that even the biggest, most muscular body can't withstand. It identifies your fucking corpse so your comrades can tell your family and wife that you were so blown up they had to look at your plate to find out who you were."

He looks me in the eye without stuttering.

"You see, here is marked my blood type and my religion in case I die, to respect the funeral. That's what saved me, I was so unconscious I couldn't even say a word. You have two because, when you die, you keep one with you in the coffin and the other is given to the family as a souvenir.
And one last thing."

Our faces are inches apart, and I can feel his warm breath on my face. He's lowered himself slightly to my height.

"I would never, ever hit a woman."

****

"Take them out of the oven, quick!"

"Yes, just a second!"

I grab the tea towel and pull the apple pie out of the oven onto the stone worktop.

"We've still got four to go."

"Why make so many?"

"For the juries and the participants. Are you just discovering the principle of the pie contest or what?"

She presses the dough into the mould with her floury fingers. The pies we make are for the town competition, and whoever makes the best one and wins the jury's votes gets a prize.

"I hope there's some money in it this year!"

"We've had some luck with the auction, so don't count on winning too much."

"You're a pessimistic girl. Put the pies in the boxes, and don't break them!"

I put them away carefully. Reid is mowing the lawn in front of the kitchen.

"It warms my heart to see him recovering."

I don't answer and put the pies away.

Dad arrives in front of Reid and starts hammering nails.

"What's he doing?"

"You'll see."

Marshall opens a bag of stones and makes a path to the nails, alternating between small stones and large rocks.

"Go put the pies in the fridge for tomorrow. Why don't you invite Judy over tonight?"

"Where would we sleep?"

"In the barn, we can make beds with blankets."

"Can I invite another friend?"

"Okay, but only one."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Marshall's best friend will come too."

"The one with the round glasses?"

"His name is Xavier."

"Why do you let us invite our friends?"

"Because you have to have fun once in a while."

"Do you have a fever, Mom?"

"Stop or I'll cancel the whole thing!"

"Okay, okay, fine!"

"Reid won't be here tonight, he's having dinner with Sonya."

I give a thumbs-up and warn the girls of the upcoming sleepover.