Extraction (3 page)

“Zou, you really are funny,” I managed to say once I calmed down.

“Whew.” My hand hit the table. “I was apologizing because I realized you don't have on a shirt and while I was looking at your chest to see if you had broken out or anything, I didn't want you to think I was checking you out. I wasn't.”

He said nothing.

“I wasn't.” I raised my right hand. “Promise.”

He shook his head and if I’m not mistaken, I saw a smirk on his face.

Well, that was progress and I'd take it.

When it was time for me to leave, I said “Okay, Zou. I don't cook breakfast on the weekends. However, you're welcome to come by. I'll have food.”

He raised an eyebrow at me which made me laugh.

“Right, well I'll see you tomorrow.”

“What?” he asked.

This caused me to laugh again and I said, “You're so silly.”

G
oliath

T
hree months
.

I had been in this sleepy town for three goddamn months and life was fine. I kept to myself, minded my business, and kept from being seen. My personal life stayed personal and folks did not get in my way.

The quiet allowed me time to think. Allowed me to escape from the memory of the tumultuous noise and the hustle and bustle that I was used to while in Baghdad. Over there, something was always going on and for a while, when not in combat, it was manageable noise.

For fucks sake, I volunteered and did two tours, but the end of my last tour was the final straw. I was broken and dead inside. There was no life within the shell of a body that remained. There were my routines, things that I was trained to do and that was it.

My parents thought I had post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) but that was ruled out. Well, they said I exhibited slight signs but ruled it out, since I was not reliving the events, avoiding situations that reminded me of war, had no negative changes of beliefs or feelings, and I wasn’t feeling hyper. I was quite the opposite. I wasn’t feeling at all.

Some of my military brothers, Key, Buzz and Jeb, had a hard time assimilating back into society. They said they'd rather just live in the world of war over there because it made sense to them. Nothing about living back here in the states made sense. Relationships seemed to be strained, loved ones distant, and of course the constant reminder that you are a product of your environment. The army life, the only way.

We lived it, breathed it, and became it. Then they wanted us to return to civilian life and function as civilians. It was fucked and so were many of us. Maybe we were the damaged ones? The ones that could mentally make it in the civilian, non-military world existing as a type of the living dead.

My mom said there was a TV show about the dead walking around after a zombie apocalypse. Apparently, they aimlessly staggered from place to place, hopelessly looking for their next meal, and starved at a slower pace than the humans. She told me that story as she cried for the umpteenth time because I didn't want to come out and eat.

I didn't like the daylight hours; it reminded me of the times while stationed in Baghdad we were all outside playing catch or a game of chess. The good times before we headed towards our various destinations. The sun was shining and the sand from the truck convoys was always in the air.

Why I moved outside of my hometown in Onley, Pennsylvania, I didn't know, but the beach was close here. Maybe it was to be closer to what was familiar from both worlds. I tried to stay with or near my folks for a little over two and a half years, but they were worrisome and I had to leave.

Why Lily? I wasn’t sure, but nothing mattered anymore. All my money from my time away had been put in savings so now my rent was paid in advance, my truck paid off, and I lived a simple life. All I needed were the essentials and that's how I lived.

My cooking skills were subpar, but my best and favorite meal was breakfast. Lunch and dinner were usually sandwiches or things that could be easily heated to make a meal. My grocery shopping usually took place at night right before the store closed. There were times when I had to make an appearance during the day, but I usually slept during that time and spent my nights awake.

I didn't have a television. I have an old radio that can only get a few stations. Occasionally, I turned it on and listened, while others times I just sat and read books.

My family tried to reach out on a regular basis and I tried to answer so they wouldn’t make a trip to find out what was going on with their only son. They wanted me to get a job and do something to keep my mind active. These were the words from my father, who was well-read on everything about war, especially the symptoms and ramifications of being soldiers. He usually informed my mother and she would cry, then curse the war and everything about it.

I was an only child, so this made everything about my family relationship intensified to ridiculous degrees and they could be obsessive.

When I was overseas she wrote daily letters, with my father’s insertions of course, even if it was just sharing her day; telling me about her latest pinochle debacle and some fruit combo that would be entered in the upcoming fair. As annoying as they might have been, it was probably the one thing of normalcy that kept me going or even in my right mind.

I had brothers who had no one, so Janice was their adopted Mom, to the point where they regularly wanted to know how she handled her cheating pinochle partner’s latest antics. Before long, the reading of letters from Janice became a communal event.

Guys would walk up to me and say things like, “Man, what did Mom say to Lois again?”

It was unreal but that was our life and we lived it and breathed it, until it was time to go. Some went on a mission and never returned. Some returned as less of a person than what they were and some returned, but they would never be the same.

To the army’s credit, they tried to keep us entertained, but the temporary pleasures of a benefit concert or a celebrity visit were fleeting. These events were appreciated but the lasting wounds that no one would ever see are far worse than anyone could imagine.

Knock.

Knock.

That couldn’t be anyone but that damn woman from upstairs. She had not showed up for breakfast like she did the week before, so I figured my debt was paid off. I hadn’t heard from her all weekend and that was good because her perky demeanor early in the morning was annoying as shit.

If it was her, she wouldn’t leave and at some point would start banging on the door. She needed her firm little ass smacked but that wasn’t my job. At this point, my job was to survive her visit. My hope was that she’d lose interest and move the fuck on. I had no interest in her and she seemed like she needed a friend or a pet.

“Yes,” I said as I opened the door.

“Ahh, you are here.” She beamed her white teeth my way.

Her eyes resembled those big eyes on the cartoon characters with long eye lashes that could occasionally get in the way. She was beautiful and fearless but she was also crazy as shit.

“Get your stuff, so we can go,” she said.

Yup, crazy.

“Go where?”

“To the nursery. We have to get some things for the backyard.”

We?

What?

I ran my fingers through my hair because I always felt like I had missed out on a conversation that took place only in her head. She just fucking makes decisions and then tells me like I’m supposed to read her mind and understand the words that she blabbers on and on about.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked.

She laughed out loud.

She always laughs out loud and it’s a contagious laugh that coats over you and seeps in to stay. I could hear her laughing even when she was not around. It’s not a sound that I can say I’ve heard before, but it is one that I won’t ever forget.

“Zou, our back yard.” She kept laughing but managed to point towards the back of the building. “It has food, flowers, and other things that we need to take care of. Ollie and I planted it a few years ago because the landlord didn’t care. This helps us to keep things organic and it’s another way we make income. Ollie isn’t at his best right now; the chick upstairs is never home so that leaves you.”

She pushed into my apartment, for the sixth time, since I never invited her inside.

“No, I didn’t sign up for this. I signed up for a place to stay. I pay my rent, mind my fucking business, and I just want to be left alone.”

I swore to God, if she laughed I would probably turn her over my knee. She was trespassing anyway, so spanking her ass would not be so out of line.

It must not have been the time because she did not laugh but said, “You have a truck, so come on silly. We need the extra space, otherwise I’d use my car. Go put on a shirt because I don’t want the women beating me up to get to you.”

Then she parked her ass on my couch and crossed her legs. Leaving no room for debate or even a counter argument.

What the hell?

I growled out loud, turned towards my bedroom and that was when I heard the laugh.

It was seeping into me and that was something I could not afford.

* * *

“
H
ey there
, Phoebe. How ya doing today?” the clerk asked, as we walked into the humongous nursery filled with plants, vegetables and flowers sorted by the various products each one produced.

“Hey,” she sang and hugged the older woman standing in the middle of the dirt aisle. “How’s Emily? Is she over the ‘I hate Mommy stage’?”

“Ha, I wish. Now, it’s the ‘I hate Mommy and Daddy stage.” The woman with the salt and pepper colored hair laughed. “I welcomed Pete to the club. He’s walking around like a lost puppy.”

The two women laughed out loud at the poor man’s misfortune and proceeded to go towards the end of the aisle.

I must be chopped liver because not only was I not introduced, but she didn't even turn around to see if I’d followed the cackling women.

I did, but the point was I had been ignored.

“So, who’s your friend?” the woman asked.

“Oh my God,” Phoebe shrieked and ran over to me. “I'm so sorry.”

Both arms snaked around my left bicep as she hung on and those big eyes landed on me. “Please, forgive me. I'm so used to coming here by myself. I just got caught up.”

Fuck.

What was I supposed to do or say when she was holding onto me like that and her face filled with remorse. My head nodded and her smile showed those bright teeth behind pouty lips, almost blinding me. Not literally, but figuratively. It was like her smile engulfed a person in warmth, much like her laugh.

Phoebe’s thumbs swiped my arm twice, then she let me go. I didn't realize I had inhaled her scent; it was a sweet warm fragrance. I didn't realize I’d kept it trapped in my nostrils until she let me go and I exhaled.

Holy shit.

Phoebe apologized again and said, “This is Zou. He's my neighbor and he's volunteered to help with the backyard.”

What world did she live in because she said that with a straight face? The woman damn near threatened to stay in my place until I put my shit on to leave. Parked her ass on my couch and everything.

“The name is Goliath,” I corrected her.

Phoebe turned her head with that fucking smile and a raised eyebrow.

“Ahh,” she nodded.

“So glad you volunteered. This girl right here has been running the project, practically by herself, and she does it well.”

What project?

I had scoped out the grounds before I actually moved in. When I went out back, there was a huge space but it was covered with black plastic, hiding what was underneath. I assumed there was construction being done and dismissed the view.

It was surprising that there was an entire garden out there where produce was cultivated and then sold. That took entrepreneurial skills, management, and a lot of other talents that didn’t jump out when looking at the annoying woman.

“Oh and my name is Rose. Yes, I know I work at a nursery and it's ironic, but I didn't name myself,” she chuckled.

“Nice to meet you, Rose.” I held out my hand.

She gripped my extended palm and the color rose to her cheeks.

“Oh my.” Rose fanned herself with her handkerchief.

Phoebe smacked my chest and said, “See what I mean. Now imagine if you would have come out with no shirt.”

What the hell was going on
?

My groin tightened slightly as my eyes landed on Phoebe’s. Her smile caused a warmth to pass through my blood. Though I did not know what type of look I was giving her, for the first time since I met her, she blinked, stopped smiling, and turned her head to avoid my gaze.

“Oh yes,” Rose added.

“So,” Phoebe cleared her throat, “let’s get everything I will need because I have a lot to do before dark.”

We did not spend a lot of time there since my neighbor had everything already mapped out to the last nail needed to secure the tarp.

When we arrived back to the apartment building, I helped her bring everything into the backyard and it was definitely not the same as what I saw when I first moved in.

“Thanks, Goliath.” She put emphasis on my name. “I can handle it from here.”

“This dirt is kind of heavy. Do you need me to drag it somewhere?”

She looked around and my eyes dropped to her denim short-shorts, emerald tank top and the slide-on athletic shoes.

Damn.

Nope, I wouldn’t be able to handle much more of her.

“It’s okay.” She looked back up at me. “I think I can handle it.”

“Okay.” I turned and rushed to get away from the woman who was affecting me in more ways than I’d care to admit.