Page 44 of Issued
“Alright, alright, I get it. Piggyback.” For a moment, I glance at the broken spine of the piñata and envy its freedom. I’m sure as soon as the kids have tired me out, I’ll be tossed to the side with as much disregard. When Leslie tenses in preparation to spur me on once more, I place a kiss against Taya’s temple, then take off. Leslie squeals, and the rest of the children give chase. It always amazes me how easily impressed children are. I’m not even running full speed, and Leslie is howling as if I’ve strapped her to the front of a roller coaster. I dip beneath the candy bleeding carcass of the piñata long enough to scoop up a hanging piece of taffy. Backtracking around the tree loses several pursuers, and I leapfrog a homemade seesaw. Shabby workmanship. Bear may not look it, but the man can’t tell the difference between a hacksaw and a hammer. I’ll come by in a few days and fix some of those shady screws. Maybe then, the stupid thing will be level.
Jesus.
I sidestep another little girl easily and wonder if the boy currently wrapped around my leg honestly thinks that he can slow me down, or if he’s just looking for a place to sit while he catches his breath. Kids are so weird, there’s no telling.
When I’m ready to claw my way back into adulthood, Bear has to help me pry Leslie from my back. Luckily, the clown decides to show up at that moment; otherwise, we may not have been able to shake her. As the guest of honor, Leslie has a front-row seat for the performance, though, for a frightening moment, she seems more inclined to lord it over the other kids from the safety of her six-foot-four perch.
“You’re getting old.” Bear slaps me on the shoulder as we trek back to the grownups.
“Oh yeah?” I swivel my head around the yard in search of Taya, but she’s nowhere to be seen. She must’ve gone inside to help Marge.
“You’re slow and breathing hard, Jim.”
I toss my head back in exasperation. “You try running with a bowling ball around your ankle, and then get back to me.”
Bear exhales, his lips twitching with amusement. “Last year, you could cart at least three of them across the yard and back. I invited you over for one reason, and that was to tucker out my kid. At this rate, I’ll need a tranquilizer to put her down for the night.”
I arch an eyebrow. “I’m not the fuckwad who thought cupcakes for breakfast and lunch was the way to go.”
“Those were more for me than her.”
I pat Bear’s gut. “Tell me something I don’t know. I might be getting old, but you’re getting soft.”
“Married life will do that to you.” Bear purses his lips, and I roll my eyes at the less-than-smooth sequitur. “Speaking of married life,” he continues predictably, “how are things going with the missus?”
I shrug. “Fine.”
“That’s it?” Bear sounds faintly amused. “Just ‘fine’?”
Though I had no idea what to expect, our counseling session had gone well. We practiced some communication skills, spoke about the progress we were making, and got to know one another a bit better through some exercises. The marriage counselor appeared quite happy with our progress and I can see why they felt Taya would be a good match for me.
And that scares me shitless.
Taya tensed up at my comment about returning to the field. And while I wanted to bring that up—along with what really happened to her arm—in our session, I didn’t want the committee to doubt our success.
Then there was the sad, faraway look on her face when New York was mentioned during one of the exercises. She could be homesick. And that only adds to my concern about her ability to be my wife.
The part at the beginning, though? When she compared herself to a prison sentence, in that uncharacteristically soft voice? That was a stab right to the heart. I hated that I’d made her feel that way. I want to do better.
Even though I’m frustrated at the same time, because, beyond all of my other concerns, I know she’s still keeping things from me.
“She’s hiding something.” Admitting it feels like a betrayal, but I can’t shake the suspicion.
Bear pulls off his hat and scratches his head. “Any idea what it might be?”
“I have no idea. She clams up when I ask about anything to do with her life back in New York. It’s weird as hell.” I rub my fingers against my temple like I’m trying to will some magical answer to appear. “She got really sad when it was brought up in counseling session, like she might cry.”
“You know, she came up to me earlier, and after some chitchat, asked me if I thought that people could get booted from the IPP for various reasons, like not filling out their form accurately. Sounded like she was just making conversation, but could be more.” He shrugs his broad shoulders.
I run a frustrated hand through my hair. “Do you remember the news articles in that scrapbook?”
Bear nods then puts back on his hat. “What about them?”
“Do you remember if any of them mentioned the name ‘Maverick’?”
“Not really. I didn’t really read them, so I can’t say for sure one way or another.” As always, Bear is quick on the uptake. “Think one of those articles might have been about her old man?”
“Not sure.”
