Back To You Read Free Page B

for showing how anxious I was feeling. I heard
the note of challenge in my own voice as I stared down my father. He had barely
bothered to talk to me lately, and now he was acting like he cared if he slept
through my exit. I tried for a casual expression, resuming my previous
position. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”
    Mike grumbled
incoherently and tightened the belt on his robe. He crossed his arms and leaned
against the counter opposite me. Something in his face changed as he looked at
me, and I watched as he uncrossed his arms with a self-conscious expression. Apparently
he wasn’t big on displaying any similarities with me.
    “You hungry?” He
asked me.
    “I’m making a
bagel.” As if on cue, the toaster popped. I turned to put it on a plate and
went to the fridge to get some butter. I ducked my head into the cool air, and
came back up frowning. “No butter?”
    “Try cream
cheese,” my dad suggested.
    I glanced around
in the fridge again, coming up empty once more. I went to the pantry and found
a jar of peanut butter. I guessed that it was probably a good thing to get some
protein in my system anyway, since it might be a while before I got to eat
again. I set to work spreading the peanut butter over the halves of my bagel. I
never took my eyes off my meal, but I was fully aware that my dad was still
standing at the counter watching my every move. I refused to be the one to
break the silence.
    After putting a
huge helping of peanut butter on my bagel, I held the plate in my hand and
leaned against the counter once more to eat. We weren’t really a
‘sit-down-like-civilized-people’ kind of family anymore. That was just another
thing Dad stopped caring about after Mom died.
    “So, I bet you’re gonna miss Ellie,” Mike said,
obviously grasping for straws to get me to open up to him. “She gonna write you?”
    “Probably, are
you?” I replied, biting into my bagel.
    My dad nodded.
“Yeah, sure, kid.”
    “I’ll write you
first, so you have the address. It’ll probably take a couple of weeks though. I
heard it’s pretty crazy when you first get there.”
    “It is. Receiving
Week is probably the worst part. They put on a big show to culture shock the
shit out of you, but it gets better with every day. I know it’s changed since I
was there, but that part’s still true, I’m sure of it.”
    “Thanks.” I
nodded, swallowing a mouthful of bagel. I hadn’t expected him to actually say
anything worth knowing. It was a shame that we didn’t have a better
relationship or I would have been able to ask him about everything else I
wanted to know.
    Mike pushed up
from the counter and crossed the kitchen to where I was standing. He extended
his hand for me to shake. “Good luck, son.”
    I hesitated for a
brief moment, and then shook my father’s hand. The fact that I instinctively
wanted to go in for a hug shocked the shit out of me probably more than
Receiving Week will. I hadn’t felt any kind of affection for my dad in a few
years. I thought maybe that was a clear sign of my nervousness. The lump in my
throat came out of nowhere as I looked at the man in front of me. When my dad
had left for boot camp many years ago, it wasn’t by choice. Those were the days
when you had a choice between jail and military service if you got in trouble,
and he had chosen the second door. He wound up making a career out of the
Marines just like I planned to, but since he’d been in the system since he was
a little kid he hadn’t had anyone to wish him luck the day he left.
    “All right, then,”
Mike said, awkwardly. He nodded once more, and then retreated.
    My bagel suddenly
tasted dry in my mouth, the lump in my throat tightening further as I watched
my father round the corner and leave me standing alone in the kitchen. I threw
the bagel in the trash, not able to stomach another bite. I took a seat at one
of the four chairs around our kitchen table and waited alone for Sergeant
Moore.
    ***
    Sergeant