was.
“Is there someone else?” he asked, uncaring.
“Not that it matters, but yes. Hell, Cotton, we’ve been apart five years. I’m sure you haven’t been a monk during that time.”
“You’re right. It’s time.”
“You really going to retire from the navy?”
“Already have. Effective yesterday.”
She shook her head, like she did when Gary needed motherly advice. “Will you ever be satisfied? The Navy, then flight school, law school, JAG, the Billet. Now this sudden retirement. What’s next?”
He’d never liked her condescending tone. “I’m moving to Denmark.”
Her face registered nothing. He might as well had said he was moving to the moon. “What is it you’re after?”
“I’m tired of being shot at.”
“Since when? You love the Billet.”
“Time to grow up.”
She smiled. “So you think moving to Denmark will accomplish that miracle?”
He had no intention of explaining himself. She didn’t care. Nor did he want her to. “It’s Gary I need to talk with.”
“Why?”
“I want to know if he’s okay with that.”
“Since when have you cared what we thought?”
“He’s why I got out. I wanted him to have a father around—”
“That’s bullshit, Cotton. You got out for yourself. Don’t use that boy as an excuse. Whatever it is you’re planning, it’s for you, not him.”
“I don’t need you telling me what I think.”
“Then who does tell you? We were married a long time. You think it was easy waiting for you to come back from who-knows-where? Wondering if it was going to be in a body bag? I paid the price, Cotton. Gary did, too. But that boy loves you. No, he worships you, unconditionally. You and I both know what he’ll say, since his head is screwed on better than either of ours. For all our failures together, he was a success.”
She was right again.
“Look, Cotton. Why you’re moving across the ocean is your business. But if it that makes you happy, then do it. Just don’t use Gary as an excuse. The last thing he needs is a discontented parent around trying to make up for his own sad childhood.”
“You enjoy insulting me?”
“Not really. But the truth has to be said and you know it.”
He stared around at the darkened bookshop. Nothing good ever came from thinking about Pam. Her animosity toward him ran deep and stemmed back fifteen years to when he was a brash ensign. He’d not been faithful and she knew it. They’d gone to counseling and resolved to make the marriage work, but a decade later he’d returned home one day from an assignment to find her gone. She’d rented a house on the other side of Atlanta for her and Gary, taking only what they needed. A note informed him of their new address and that the marriage was over. Pragmatic and cold, that was Pam’s way. Interestingly, though, she’d not sought an immediate divorce. Instead, they’d simply lived apart, remained civil, and spoke only when necessary for Gary’s sake.
But eventually the time came for decisions—across the board.
So he quit his job, resigned his commission, ended his marriage, sold his house, and left America, all in the span of one long, terrible, lonely, exhausting, but satisfying week.
He checked his watch. He really should e-mail Gary. They communicated at least once a day, and it was still late afternoon in Atlanta. His son was due in Copenhagen in three weeks to spend a month with him. They’d done the same thing last summer, and he was looking forward to the time together.
His confrontation with Stephanie still bothered him. He’d seen naïveté like hers before in agents who, though aware of risks, simply ignored them. What was it she always told him? Say it, do it, preach it, shout it, but never, absolutely never, believe your own bullshit. Good advice she should heed. She had no idea what she was doing. But then, did he? Women were not his strong point. Though he’d spent half his life with Pam, he never really took the time to know her. So
Stephanie Beck
Tina Folsom
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Ditter Kellen
M.R. Polish
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Jimmy Breslin
bell hooks
Mary Jo Putney