Soldier Mine Read online

  The next morning, I show up at the diner an hour later than usual, thanks to an emergency request from Bev for me to pick out matching tablecloths. The moment I chose, she realized I had neither taste nor color coordination ability, so she dismissed me and called my sister.

  Claudia perks up from behind the counter as I enter and take my normal booth. Her ponytail is tied with a fall colored ribbon today, and from her pink cheeks, she walked to work. She meets my gaze briefly before circling the counter with a slice of pie and mug in her hands.

  “You’re late,” she tells me briskly.

  “Had to pick out tablecloths and wall décor for Thursday.”

  “Really? You’re good at interior design?”

  “Nope. That’s why I’m here and not there.”

  She cracks a rare smile. “I still haven’t decided. I’ll save you the effort of asking.”

  “About Thursday?”

  “No. About karate.”

  “No surprise.”

  Her eyes narrow.

  “What about Thursday?” I ask.

  She hesitates. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe,” I repeat, eyebrows lifting. “Did hell freeze over?”

  “No, but your coffee did while waiting for you.” She sets down the mug in her hand. “Drink up, soldier boy!”

  “Very sweet of you to set out my pie and coffee,” I reply with a grin. “I’ll try not to be late tomorrow.”

  She flushes. “I don’t … I didn’t …” Flustered, Claudia whirls and leaves, her usual defense mechanism for when I manage to elicit some sort of emotion from her.

  Unusually satisfied that she almost admitted to waiting for me, I’m smiling more widely than the situation should warrant. That there might be a thaw to her cool courtesy genuinely impresses me. I was beginning to believe either my leg or my perseverance or something else about me was putting her off.

  The coffee is cold and the pie warm from sitting out. I can’t find it in me to care today. I’m too satisfied with my micro-victory to question what happened here. I’m halfway through my cold coffee when Bev sends me another text. This one, I can actually help out.

  Leaving money for the food and my usual generous tip, I stand. I catch Claudia’s pretty hazel gaze. “Gotta run. Be in tomorrow at the usual time.” With a wink, I don’t wait for her to give me the cold shoulder and leave.

  Chapter Seven: Claudia

  Ugh. I don’t know how I managed to let that happen, but I slipped up. Petr caught it, too. I’m beginning to wonder if Eileen is onto something. But I can’t fathom what might remotely interest someone like Petr. He knows nothing about me, and I definitely am not trying to encourage him in any way. The woman he met here the first day was more his type than I am.

  Not that it matters. I’m kinda glad his coffee was cold. I hope that makes up for me almost admitting I was waiting for him today. I tell myself I didn’t any more than I do any other regular.

  But I did, and I know it.

  The day passes quickly, and Todd shows up around three. To my reluctant delight, he’s got a girl with him. I go to his booth, and he looks up. His face is glowing. The girl across from him is a pretty brunette with green eyes and dimples.

  “This is my sister,” he mumbles. “Claudia, this is Maya.”

  “Nice to meet you Maya,” I say with a smile. “Can I get you guys anything?”

  They order sodas and pie.

  Young love renders them low maintenance, and I check on them every hour or so until my shift is over at seven. I’m not sure what to think exactly about Todd having a real girlfriend. It’s not just the fact that he’s growing up but that he’s developing a tie to the locals. It’s been a no-no for so long, I’m not quite ready to endorse something as innocent and temporary as first love.

  We leave the diner and return home. My mind is caught between Todd growing up and Petr’s daily visits to the café. I’m feeling overwhelmed by both.

  Todd doesn’t go anywhere without his phone, and he disappears into his room with the cat to text Maya. I deposit my tips, make him his evening bowl of stew and then sit down at the kitchen table.

  Our budget is pretty straightforward. Usually, it takes me five minutes to run the numbers and ensure we have enough for the apartment, utilities, Todd’s school lunches, and groceries. I have a miscellaneous fund for clothes and anything else we need around the house.

  I stare at the numbers without registering them. Todd has his Christmas present early – the iPhone – and I’ve got the funds set aside to send my mom a little something, too.

  Blinking away thoughts, my gaze slides to the phone beside the notebook where I do my budget. Something’s been bothering me all day, and I have a feeling I know what.

  For the first time in a very long time, I want to call Simon. It’s usually a duty I don’t care for, one I perform just to check in with him so he can tell my mom I’m okay. There’s a very small piece of me resigned to the life I live now, to running forever. I don’t rely on the government to take care of my problem.

  Tonight, I really, really want Simon to tell me something good is happening. Or maybe to give me more than his normal response about how slow progress is with the government.

  I want Todd to have the chance to date a girl. I want to go to the Thanksgiving feast without feeling guilty knowing I’m going to walk away from everyone here without so much as a farewell.

  Picking up the phone, I go to my room and close the door. My stomach is twisting once more, my emotions in turmoil. I dial the number to Simon’s office and am transferred to him.

  “Hey, it’s me,” I say with a quick glance to ensure the door is closed.

  “Good to hear from you, Claudia,” Simon replies warmly. “Your mother wanted me to tell you she loves and misses you both.”

  I smile, eyes watering at the thought of my mother. I haven’t seen her since we started running. “Tell her we love and miss her, too, Simon,” I whisper. “Any news?” I hold my breath, afraid to hope for good news and equally aware I’ll be devastated if there is none.

  “I’m afraid not, Claudia.”

  “No worries.”

  “Call back in a week? After Thanksgiving.”

  I should’ve considered things would be slower this week and probably for the next month as well, until after the New Year. “Sure.”

  “Take care.”

  I hang up.

  This time, the news I’m expecting disturbs me. I’ve heard the same story for years now. It rarely pierces the wall around my emotions. I’m accustomed to being disappointed, to acknowledging the truth of my situation: I made one bad decision and my penance will probably last until I die.

  Lying back on my bed, I stare at the ceiling. I want to cry, but the tears won’t come. I have the confirmation I needed, though. Whatever Petr’s intention is at the diner, I need to push him away. There’s no need for him to be affected when I leave.

  I’m not worth remembering. I’m also not worth the risk.

  “Hey, Claud!” Todd pounds on my door.

  Sitting up, I do what I can to suppress my roiling emotions. “Yeah?”

  “Can I go to Maya’s for dinner tomorrow night?”

  It breaks my heart knowing he can’t get too attached, and I hurt to once more consider denying him the ability to make friends and be a normal teen. “You can,” I answer finally. “You will check in every fifteen minutes.”

  “I know.” He gives an exasperated sigh.

  Leaving my room, I try to drown my thoughts and emotions in watching television.

  Petr is there when I arrive the next morning. I don’t look at him this time when I walk in and take more time than usual getting ready.

  It’s stupid to avoid him. I mean, I don’t even know if he does like me more than he should. The best way to handle it is not to avoid him anyway but to pretend like there’s nothing between us.

  Taking him his usual order, I set it down without speaking. He’s gazing at me. My focus is elsewhere,
however, and I manage to leave before he has a chance to speak. He eats and drinks his coffee in silence. I stay behind my counter, but … I don’t really like it. I’m disappointed and uncertain why.

  I’m not expecting him to come to one of the stools at the breakfast bar. Startled when he does, I look at him. “What’re you doing?” I ask suspiciously.

  “I’m tired of that seat.”

  “You can’t sit here.” I hear how ridiculous it sounds. It’s too late to take it back, though.

  His eyes twinkle, and he drinks his coffee.

  With my safe space invaded, I lean back against the wall next to where the orders go in to the cook.

  We stare at each other for a long moment.

  “Karate?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “Is that a decision, or are you refusing to make one still?”

  “Decision.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” He appears genuine. “Thanksgiving?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Good.” He leans back. “You’re more withdrawn than usual today. You okay?”

  I bristle. I don’t like the thought of someone prying into what I feel is my privacy.

  He seems to sense it and chuckles. “I noticed. That’s it.” He holds up his hands in playful surrender. “If you come in sick one day, I’m not sure who else knows how to make cold coffee.”

  Do. Not. Smile.

  “Or give me a piece of pie that’s more than an inch wide.”

  The corners of my lips tilt up, and I duck my head. I am pretty ornery towards him. I wonder if he considers that flirting and if so, if I have been leading him on without realizing it.

  “There we go,” he says, smiling. “Now I’ll piss you off. Please reconsider letting Todd go to karate.”

  “I made my decision.”

  “I know, just like I know I’m a complete stranger whose opinion probably doesn’t matter. But he needs to go. He needs the interaction with others his age, a healthy hobby and the confidence sports and martial arts instill in kids.”

  The words are damning. They almost hurt to hear.

  They infuriate me. Not because Petr is wrong or being obnoxious or sticking his nose in my business. But because someone else noticed that my brother isn’t normal, and it’s a reminder I’m hurting Todd by denying him the chance to live the life of a teenage boy.

  “You can go,” I whisper, somewhere between crying and screaming at him. “Please.”

  “Okay.” Petr studies me briefly before standing. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Unable to summon a response, I nod.

  I’m failing Todd, and I’m humiliated that it’s so apparent to an outsider.

  Chapter Eight: Claudia

  The rest of the day passes quickly. I’m doing my best to keep the world and my emotions at bay, and it leaves me in a rather distracted haze. I’m too rattled by Petr’s insistence to be offended by him offering his advice about my brother. I can’t get over the thought that I’m preventing Todd from being happy.

  I don’t know what to do or how to make life better for my brother.

  He brings Maya in briefly before they head to her parent’s for dinner. As ordered, he texts diligently every fifteen minutes and warns me he’ll be home around nine.

  For the first time in forever, I walk home alone and stand in the apartment, surprised by how empty it is without him. We’ve spent little time apart over the years, usually only when he’s in school.

  I despise the feeling of loneliness. Turning on the television loudly, I straighten the house and venture into Todd’s room. It’s a mess, as usual, and I gather the dirty laundry and clean up where possible. In his closet, precariously balanced on top of his suitcase, is his Secrets Box, the name we give to the container I’m not allowed to open. It’s his privacy vault, where he can put whatever he wants, a sort of compromise in parent-kid relationships we arrived to when he turned thirteen and brought home his first Playboy. He’s too good of a kid to sneak drugs into the house. Every once in a while, I wonder what he’s hiding but respect our agreement enough not to pry.

  Cleaning around the shoebox-sized box with warning stickers all over it, I bend over to pair and line up his shoes and end up knocking the box over with my shoulder.

  Muttering a curse, I bend to retrieve the container, praying it stays closed so Todd never has a reason to distrust me.

  It’s landed on its top, and I pick it up carefully. Whatever is in it is too heavy for the lid to stay on, and I lift the box and leave the lid.

  The contents render me too shocked to speak. For a long moment, I stare at the box’s secret, unable to process a single thought until my surprise wears off.

  I pick up the cold, metal black handgun. It’s not a revolver, but I don’t know enough about weapons to name what it is. Berretta? It smells of gun oil, which tells me he maintains it. There are three clusters of bullets held together by thick rubber bands, a spare magazine and a small cleaning kit.

  The box contains nothing else.

  “Todd,” I whisper, my heart sinking.

  There’s only one reason he has it, and it’s directly my fault. Todd has wanted to take care of me since he was waist high, and I’ve always told him it’s the older sibling’s responsibility. Resting the weapon in my lap, I can’t take my eyes off it or shake off the cold chill working its way through my body.

  I swore never to look at the contents of his Secrets Box. Now that I have – by accident – I feel trapped. There’s no way in this life or the next that I’m going to let Todd shoot the man chasing us. This is my burden, and Todd bears too much of it already. I can’t imagine how he was able to obtain the gun, but I’m guessing it was from someone at school. There’s no other way. He doesn’t leave my sight when not at school, except for tonight.

  How do I handle this without alerting Todd that I broke my promise to him, even if it wasn’t on purpose? The weapon is too dangerous for me to leave here. I mean, does the kid know how to shoot a gun?

  It’s moments like this when I want so much to call my mother but am afraid to. The Monster that ruined my life keeps tabs on her in case I make direct contact, and I won’t risk putting her in danger.

  I replace the contents of the box, return it to its place and stare at it.

  I have no freaking clue what to do. I can’t bear the thought of driving Todd away by confronting him. I’m already limiting what he can do with his life, who he can hang out with, what entertainment he’s allowed to have. As Petr pointed out, Todd has no hobbies and doesn’t play sports.

  Petr’s quiet words return to me, those he uttered the first day we met. He said he thought Todd was scared, and martial arts would help him become more confident. The gun was bought out of fear. Did Todd buy it because I refused to let him go to karate? How long has he had it?

  Aching to talk to him but fearing the discussion, I finish cleaning his room, troubled and worried. After some internal debate, I empty out the contents of the Secrets Box and replace the empty container where it belongs.

  The weapon I hide in my room under my mattress. It feels icky knowing I’m betraying Todd’s trust, but I can’t ignore something like this.

  He returns around nine, as promised, grinning like a lovesick fool. I’m grateful for the distraction of Maya and hope she’ll take his mind off the danger following us.

  Heading to bed, I doubt I’ll be able to sleep with the gun in my room.

  Petr is present as promised the next morning. I don’t try to avoid him this time, sensing he’s direct enough to confront me if I do. He’s back in his normal booth and already has his coffee.

  Not sure why that irks me, but it does. I take him his pie. “Cheating on me already?” I quip and then immediately wish I could take the words back. “With coffee.” Yeah, that doesn’t help much. “Eat your pie.” I’m neck deep in the hole I’m digging and too stupid to stop.

  He grins, the roguish expression lighting up his features.

  I give him the
cold shoulder, at least until it’s time for a refill. I’ve never had the urge to stalk someone’s coffee cup in my life like I do his, and I wait impatiently for the opening that a refill gives me. Finally, it comes, and I approach.

  “I, um, changed my mind,” I say casually as I pour. “Todd can go to karate.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  He’s starting to smile.

  “Don’t try to take credit for it,” I snap.

  “No ma’am.” His eyes are sparkling. “What changed your mind?”

  “Aside from the fact you’re right?” I ask in a disgruntled tone. “I guess I had a come-to-Jesus moment last night. He’s growing up, and I have to let him be a teen.”

  “And …”

  Petr’s too smart. Somehow, he knows I’m not the kind to change my mind without a damned good reason.

  There’s something about Petr that makes me want to tell him. Our brief interactions aren’t enough for me to know fully what kind of a person he is, but … he’s different. Very different. I’ve been emotionally isolated for so long, it’s tempting to tell him, to trust someone else, even just a little. I’m also out of practice, afraid and feel myself hit the brakes considering it.

  “That’s it.”

  “I’ll take it,” he replies. “Start Monday?”

  “Sure.” I hesitate to leave, my heart heavy with what I discovered last night. “Do you think it’ll help him?” The way I say it sounds awful. “Not that he needs help but maybe it’ll make it easier for him to adjust?”

  “It should. I’ve seen a lot of troubled kids turn it around with sports or martial arts.”

  “Troubled. You really think he’s troubled.” Oh, god. This is the most painful conversation ever.

  “Sorry. Troubled might be harsh,” Petr answers softly. “He’s a good kid, but I do think something is bothering him. An after school activity might take his mind off things.”

  Nibbling on my lower lip, I nod. Petr is gentler than he needs to be about the topic, and I’m secretly relieved he’s not judging me or Todd.

  “And … tomorrow? Do I get a two for one today?” he asks.