Starts with a Match

Hurdling Boundaries like it's an Olympic Sport

We haven't talked for two days.

Which works for us.

I'm gone for post before they wake up. They're in their room or at work by the time I get home. While I'm showering, they make dinner for themselves. While I make dinner for me—weak leftovers from the food they set aside for me with my name on it, or yogurt—they're doing yoga, or taking the truck to the gym. I'm in bed before they get done with either.

Claire called me this afternoon while I was at work. Invited Toby and I to stay the weekend, celebrate Alex's birthday. He'll be thirteen.

There was a time when I was scared I'd miss it. I haven't talked to them since I got in other than Zoom or facetime calls. I'd love to see them in person. Would hate to show up without Toby.

But I apologized and they didn't care. I used the words, at least. Didn't back them up with anything.

I'm sitting in my desk, staring at a text I've started to Claire. Everyone else has gone home for the day. I think the last door closed an hour ago.

-Hey, thanks for the invite but I won't be coming. Toby might though. Toby and I aren't really talking right now. Basically I never grew up, and I'm no better than the asshole that I was in high school who loved picking fights for no reason, other than the need to get in someone's business. Guess you were right, when you called me that day I was in the field and screamed that I'll never make anyone happy cause I'm too busy caring about myself.

Yeah not gonna send that. I delete the chunk, toss my phone to the desk, and drop my face into my hands, elbows on my knees.

My phone vibrates, and I get a split second of fear where I think I sent the text accidentally and this is her replying that I'm a piece of shit.

It's Donovan. They're doing a guy's night tonight, celebrating Jim. He got transfer orders, they're sending him to Fort McNair in DC next week. So he's over the moon, of course; happy he won't be going to the field with the rest of us and will instead be putting his connection skills to use at the Pentagon.

I, of course, congratulated him like a true friend via delayed text, and didn't reply to the voicemail he left me this morning when he called me so elated about it.

Could apologize and hang out with Jim if I buddy along with Don. He's now texting me, too, offering to DD since Toby's got the truck at work, can pick me up in three hours. I say I'm not sure if I'm up for it.

He's offering to pay. I reply that I'll be ready to go as soon as I get home and change.

—

I make a mad dash across post before I leave, at Jim's request, to meet up with him and Hannah.

I also have to control my glare long enough to talk to Jim, otherwise he'll think my anger is directed at him, and I'm yet to figure out how to inwardly glare, cause I'm really more pissed at myself than anyone else. I guess that's just glaring, but at the floor, or maybe a mirror.

He greets me like a ball of sunshine and I've never wanted to punch him more. "How's it going, Kevin? You in for tonight?"

"Yeah, I'll be there." He nods with another bright grin behind his bandanna and leads us down the path toward orange unit.

Sounds more or less like he's explaining a bit about that Rustavi trip we've all got coming up, all but him anyway.

Sounds more or less like it's a bunch of shit, and there's really no reason for us to be going at all.

He offers to buy me a coffee, cause he got Medrano's tea earlier since she's been hunched over a computer for the last ten hours. My reply is more guttural grunt than words, but he figures it out, and we take a left to go into the new Dutch Bros on post.