Eternal Spring YA short story collection

Off Balance by Renee Pace

Off Balance

By

Renee Pace

What the hell? Is that Jen pushing a stroller?

Shit, after all the frigging time I spent writing her those stupid letters, after she dropped me like a used cigarette, I can’t believe she’s the first person I see on my leave. That’s the type of karma I’m having these days. First I find out that Eje’s going to be late returning to Halifax, and now this. I glance around and wonder for a second if I can walk past her like she doesn’t exist. That’s probably what she’ll do. I never thought of her as being that cold, but not once did she respond to my letters. All I wanted to know was why. Why was it over? I get that a long-distance relationship is hard, but it’s not like I was going to be away for freaking forever. Maybe she’s seeing someone else. Christ, the thought of that makes me want to puke up the donair I wolfed down faster than a souped-up car.

With my palms sweaty I feel more nervous walking toward her than my first day at boot camp, which sucked. For once the movies got something right. Boot camp is downright ugly. It was all running, learning how to function on little sleep, and forcing yourself to eat crappy sludge military food. That was the first week. Then it became more running, which alternated between pushing your sorry legs through large motherfucking knee-deep water the Sergeant called puddles—I swear to God, if he said that one more time, I was going to drown him in one of those so-called puddles­—and lots of time spent cleaning weapons. After fourteen weeks of the same routine, with the only deviation being waking up earlier and earlier and learning to heave your tired, beyond-achy body past the breaking point, it was hit-the-books study time.

“Wow, guess who I get the pleasure of running into.” I hate that when I look at Jen, my heart drops to my feet. She’s changed but the same. She’s skinner than I remember and there’s a wary deer-in-the-headlights look in her eyes that makes me want to check over my shoulder. I resist that urge and hope to God I’m not drooling. Her chestnut-colored hair is pulled back in a ponytail, but wisps of it frame her pixie-like face. Her cheeks look flushed and she smells like fresh, clean air.

“Nice to see you, Charlie.”

Nice to freaking see me. It’s on the tip of my tongue to shout at her, but one thing the military ingrained in me is that it’s always best to keep my big mouth shut. The few times I did speak up, I paid for it with sweat, and there’s nothing fun about working out when everyone else has gone to the barracks.

“Yeah, great to see you too, Jen.” I’m so lame. Small talk was never my strong suit. I find myself shuffling my feet and I don’t want to keep walking. What I want more than anything is to sweep Jen into my arms and kiss her like I fantasized about night after night.

“So, how is the military?” she asks, making sure to keep the stroller moving. She must have taken a nanny job. Funny, I never thought of her as suited to clean poopy diapers and all. I’m glad the kid’s asleep and oblivious to us.

“Great.” The kid, a baby I realize, starts to squirm around in the stroller. I attempt to peek in but Jen moves the stroller forward. I can’t see the baby. Fine. Whatever. With expertise, Jen pops the soother back in the baby’s mouth and then turns to face me.

“So you really like the army?” she asks, again. I nod. “It’s hard though. Lots of physical work, and the school stuff is a lot harder than the stuff taught in high school. But yeah, guess I really do like it.” I know now I’m rambling but hell, she was the one who asked. “So, what have you been up to?”

For a weird second her eyes dart back to the stroller, and then she looks up at me. “Not much. Stuff,” she says, which is so unlike Jen I think I must be making her uncomfortable.