Hunter - Big Girls & Bad Boys (3 page)

“Yeah, yeah. You’re simply stunning,” she replied. I glared at Daisy trying to figure out if she was being serious or not. I decided she was.

“Don’t wait up,” I told her.

“Don’t worry. Just going to post a vlog on YouTube and then read,” she told me.

“Okay. Hugs and kisses,” I told her.

“Good luck,” Daisy replied, winked and made a crude gesture with her hands and mouth. I chuckled and left. Hunter was waiting in his friend’s Prius when I got downstairs. I climbed in and greeted Hunter. I didn’t miss the way his eyes lit up and swept up and down my body. I considered pulling my skirt down where it belonged after it had ridden up my thighs as I entered but I decided to leave it right where it was.

“Missed you,” he said and leaned over. Mildly surprised, I leaned over and kissed him.

“You too,” I said honestly. Hunter put the car in gear and off we went. The Japanese steakhouse wasn’t far. A lot of my friends were vegan but not me. I wasn’t into the whole lifestyle thing. I was anti-war, not anti-fun. I ate meat, I didn’t recycle as often as I should and I couldn’t care less how warm the earth was or whose fault it was. I might have been a zealot but I wasn’t a complete fanatic.

Once we arrived and were seated, we looked over the menus as a nervous silence settled in. I saw what I wanted, a pork Katsu dish with a spicy tuna roll on the side. I set my menu down just as Hunter did the same. Simultaneously, we both said, “What are you having?”

“Sorry, go ahead,” he told me.

“Oh, okay. Pork Katsu and a spicy tuna roll,” I told him.

“Nice. Wagyu Beef skewers and a sashimi sampler for me,” he said.

“Sounds good. I’ll let you taste mine if I can taste yours?” I asked, and though it sounded slightly dirty, Hunter didn’t take the bait.

“Sure,” he replied. The waitress, a Japanese woman in a traditional kimono, took our order and brought us a pot of tea and tiny cups. Hunter poured us each a cup of steaming tea.

“I like this place,” I told him, trying to make small talk.

“My friend, Gary, took me here. He knows I like Japanese food. So what’s your major?” Hunter asked me. I wanted to ask about his experience in Japan but Hunter beat me to the punch.

“Political Science,” I told him.

“You want to be a politician?” he asked me.

“No, I’m more of an activist,” I admitted.

“What kind of activist?” he asked.

“Anti-war,” I told him. Suddenly, Hunter wore a strange look. I went on. I wasn’t ashamed of my beliefs and didn’t think I had any reason to be. “I spend a lot of time protesting. Thankfully, we’re finally out of Iraq and nearly out of Afghanistan but we’re going back? I mean c’mon. Haven’t we done enough damage over there?” I explained.

Hunter was very quiet as I explained my positions but I didn’t let that stop me. Once I was on a roll, I could go for days. “All the innocent lives lost and destroyed. All the people we’ve killed over there. We’ve torn those countries to shreds. Not to mention the poor soldiers. Injuries, PTSD, suicides, it’s criminal. Bush and Obama should both be tried for war crimes,” I said.

Hunter just stared at me and I was beginning to wonder if I’d offended him. Was he one of those people? A hawk? Pro-war? One of those security statists who was fine with the NSA reading all our emails and listening to all our phone conversations all in the name of fighting terrorism? Please, no. Not this guy.

“What is it?” I asked him. Hunter didn’t look away but he did unbutton his left sleeve. He rolled it up over his forearm and then past his elbow. I wasn’t sure what he was doing. As he pushed his sleeve higher, Hunter revealed a skull atop a crossed knife and a wooden paddle. Over the angry looking skull, it read, “Force Recon,” and underneath it read, “Swift, Silent, Deadly.” I’d seen it before. You learned stuff like that when you protested outside of recruiting offices.

“You’re a Marine?” I asked him. Hunter smiled wistfully.

“Yeah. Since I was eighteen,” he told me. I swallowed hard.

“And you’re still in?” I wondered hoping he’d tell me he wasn’t.

“Yeah, I’m a lifer,” he told me.

“Fuck!” was all I said.

“That’s what I get for hanging out at Berkeley,” he said. I shared the disappointment I could sense in his voice but that remark kind of pissed me off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, suddenly defensive.

“Nothing. I guess I should be happy. You’re probably not looking to date me for the benefits,” he told me. I knew what he meant. Lots of girls, especially near military bases, looked for military men to marry. A lot of benefits came with being a military wife. Housing, insurance, shopping on base. I wasn’t one of those women, not by a long shot.

“No, I’m not. I don’t know what to say,” I told Hunter.

“That you wouldn’t mind dating a Marine that’s done two tours in Afghanistan and who loves the Corps,” he said. I wasn’t sure if he was being hopeful or sarcastic. Maybe both.

“You don’t really love the Marines, right? I mean, you can’t really love fighting,” I said. Hunter began to nod slowly.

“Yeah, I do and I can,” he said. This sucked. I finally meet a guy I like that likes me and he turns out not only to be in the military but a fucking Marine...Recon, no less. I guess I was frustrated and a bit angry, mostly at the universe for playing games with me. I sort of took it out on Hunter.

“You’re just a pawn, you know that, right? It’s all about oil and money. They’re using you,” I told him.

“Jesus Christ. That’s garbage. No one’s using me and it’s not all about oil. That’s just so ignorant,” he replied.

“Ignorant? That’s funny coming from a jarhead who risks his life for the military-industrial complex,” I told him.

“You don’t know anything, Mel. You’re just parroting left-wing propaganda. It’s mostly bullshit. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got plenty to complain about when it comes to strategy and policy but I’m making a difference. Can you say the same?” he shot back, clearly agitated. So was I now.

“If I can help prevent a war or keep a young man off the battlefield, yeah, I am,” I said.

“You’re delusional. Did you choose Berkeley because you’d fit in or did they brainwash you after you got here?” he asked me.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve been anti-war since I was a kid. Ever since I saw what war did to people. I’ve done a lot of research. I know all about war,” I said smugly.

“Really? You know a lot about war. How many tours have you done over there?” Hunter asked. I guess telling a Marine I knew a lot about war was kind of dumb, but I didn’t let that stop me.

“You don’t have to fight to know about it. Besides, you just see one side of it. You’re just a tool, Hunter,” I explained.

“Okay, Mel,” he said and I could tell by his tone that Hunter considered the conversation over with. He flagged down the waitress and called her over. “Can I get the skewers to go, please?” he asked her. She nodded politely.

“And for the lady?” she asked.

“No, she’ll be eating here...alone,” Hunter told the Japanese woman. What?

“You’re leaving?” I asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for your dinner. If you don’t mind, that is, me paying with the dirty military money I no doubt earned killing innocent farmers, raping their wives and eating their babies,” Hunter said, his words dripping with sarcasm and vitriol. Very funny.

“How am I supposed to get home?” I asked him.

“Don’t care,” he said and then turned to the obviously uncomfortable waitress. “I’ll be in the bar. Just bring my skewers and the check when they’re ready,” he said and walked off towards the bar. Okay, he was joking, right? No, he wasn’t. Hunter was pissed off and now I felt bad. I was a nice person and I let this get out of hand. I liked him as a person even if I didn’t like what he did for a living. I followed him, walking past the confused waitress. I caught up as he was ordering a beer.

“Hunter, you don’t have to leave,” I told him. He laughed and turned to face me.

“Do you really think I’m going to sit there all night and listen to you bash me. Listen to you bash the Corps and everything I’ve sacrificed? Good luck. It’s been real,” he said and turned away from me. I stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. Hunter ignored me, like I wasn’t even there. Finally, I went back to the table and sat there feeling sorry for myself. I’d said some harsh words and I’m not even sure I meant all of them.

I wasn’t against the men and women who fought and sacrificed. I felt for them. I admired what they did even if I believed what they were doing was a farce. I was about to get up and apologize when my meal arrived. I thanked the waitress and as she left, I turned to see Hunter walking out with a beer in one hand and a box with his dinner inside in the other. I got up to go after him but I wasn’t quick enough. Hunter was gone by the time I got outside.

>>O<<

“You’re back early?” Daisy said as I walked into our room. I’d taken a bus back to campus but had to walk in my heels for nearly a quarter mile from the nearest stop. I took off one shoe and threw it at my bed. I removed the other and slammed it to the floor. “So, it went well, I take it,” Daisy said.

“He’s a Marine,” I told her. Daisy sat up in bed.

“No shit? The haircut. Fuck, I just didn’t expect to meet a Marine at Berkeley,” Daisy remarked.

“Yeah, he showed me his tattoo after I told him I was an activist,” I explained.

“You didn’t see it the other night? Did you fuck with your clothes on?” Daisy asked.

“We went to the Grove. It was dark,” I told her.

“So, what are you going to do?” she asked me.

“Nothing. I pissed him off and he left me there. At least he paid for my dinner. I had to take the bus back,” I told her.

“Typical. All those jarheads are conceited assholes. He probably thinks he’s doing God’s work or something,” Daisy said.

“Pretty much. I tried to explain to him that he’s just a pawn but that made him mad,” I said and went to my bed after picking up my shoes. I plopped down on the bed and sighed.

“You feel bad about it, don’t you?” Daisy asked.

“I...he’s a human being. I don’t like hurting anyone,” I told her. Daisy shrugged.

“Even a cold-blooded killer?” she said. Daisy’s disdain for the individual men and women went deeper than mine. I saw the military men and women as victims of a system bent on war and destruction to maintain its power. Daisy saw them as willing participants bent on doing evil. Both generalizations, of course.

“He’s...that’s not fair,” I replied. Daisy got up and sat next to me. She glared at me.

“You’ve fallen for him,” she accused.

“No! I had sex with him...once. I’m not falling for him,” I argued without the conviction I’d hoped.

“Fuck! You’re hot for him,” Daisy said. I couldn’t reply to that and the matter was settled anyway.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. It was nice but I could never be with a Marine...never,” I assured Daisy. I wanted to believe that but even saying it felt hollow and wrong. Maybe some anonymous Marine in theory, but when I thought about Hunter, I wasn’t sure I meant that.

“Good riddance. They should totally ban the military from campus. We don’t need their kind here,” Daisy told me. She was militant when it came to her beliefs. She was a good roommate and a nice person but when it came to her activism, watch out.

“Yeah, we don’t need their kind,” I agreed, admittedly half-heartedly. I stood and began to undress and put on something more comfortable. Once I was in yoga pants and a t-shirt, I grabbed a pint of chocolate fudge brownie ice cream and climbed into bed. “Want to binge-watch some Mad Men and share my ice cream?” I asked.