I’m not.
I look both left and right when I enter. I’m able to pick out Carina immediately. She’s sitting in a corner booth, her laptop open, a pair of thick black glasses perched on her face, typing away. Pausing, she brushes her bangs out of her face and then continues the tirade on her keyboard. I make my way to her slowly. She looks up the second Iget in her line of sight and startles.
A funny thing happens. I swallow down the state of Texas, and an unfamiliar calm overtakes my body. I smile. “You must be the famous author I’m supposed to meet?” Taking a few more steps in her direction, I extend my hand.
Removing her glasses, she stands, takes my hand lightly, and shakes it. “Carina Painter. I’m trying to figure out how it’s you, but then I remember I gave you my card. Smith, right?”
I nod and make a joke about giving information to strangers. She doesn’t laugh. I slide into the booth opposite her.
Gently she closes her laptop and folds her arms on top of it. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I appreciate it.”
I eye her closely. She’s hiding a shiner with several layers of makeup. Most probably wouldn’t notice, but she knows the second I do. She slides the thick-rimmed glasses back onto her face to help cover it. Goose bumps prickle my skin, even though it’s warm in here. It would be rude to bring it up.
She clears her throat. The tan skin on her neck draws my gaze.
“I have so many questions. I’m not sure how long it would take to interview you in person, so I thought maybe if you’re comfortable answering some through email correspondence, it may go quicker?”
I tell her I’m not in any rush. That I want to stay herewith her and answer every single question that crosses her mind. No one will give her black eyes if she’s sitting in front of me, in my proximity. I order a large coffee and a sandwich when the waitress comes by and asks if we want anything.
Carina declines. “I’ll have dinner with my…I’ll have to eat at home tonight after we finish here.”
I sigh. Her explanation is brimming with unease. “Fair enough. Where should we begin?”
Carina’s eyes light up. “I’ll start at the beginning. I want to write a piece, an article, maybe even a novel, depending on how inspired I get.”
I hold my hand up. “What if I’m not inspiring at all?” I laugh.
She grins, a half smile pulling one cheek. “Then I’ll have to cast my net again. It took months to get you here, so I’m really hoping you can be as inspiring as possible.” Her gaze, for the first time, dips to my hands. I fold them in front of me. “Tell me about your military career. Just a brief overview to start. I’ll fine-tune the questions after that. If you don’t mind, that is. Everything will be confidential. Your name won’t be associated with anything, and if this turns into a novel, it will even be deemed fiction. Fiction that may help someone, though.” Carina glows when she speaks of her writing.
“As I am still active duty, I’d appreciate the fictionalized version. Anonymity will work out well for a nonfiction piece as well. Well, as I’m not in the habit oftalking about myself or my military career, I’m afraid you’re going to have to try a little harder than that,” I joke.
Her small mouth pops open. “Oh. Of course. What branch of the military?”
“Navy. I enlisted straight out of high school.”
My coffee arrives. Wincing when I grab the hot mug, I set it back down again. Something merely warm feels like scalding water to me. I blow on the black liquid instead. Carina scribbles down notes in a black-and-white spiral notebook. Like the kind you’d carry in high school. The white paper tabs get everywhere when you have to tear a sheet from it.
“I have a question for you,” I say. “It comes off a little personal. If I’m telling you personal things, perhaps we can trade one for one?” It’s a bold move. One I’m sure she’ll shy away from.
With her head still down, she lets just her gaze flick up to meet mine. “Okay. What is your question?”
“Who gave you the black eye?” I ask, wrapping my hand back around the mug, owning the burn.
She raises her eyebrows. “The dresser. I tripped. I believe we met because my own feet got in my way. Remember?” Her smile is weak. She lies about this a lot. It makes me sick. I swallow a sip of coffee, my throat matching the temperature of my stinging hand. Carina doesn’t look at my hand, though. Her gaze is locked on my eyes. She’s sizing me up, figuring out what I reallywant. I see a shrewd knowledge about her. “My turn to ask a question now?”
I nod. She knows damn well I didn’t take her answer at face value. “What do you do in the Navy, and how long have you been in?” In essence, she wants to know my age. I’ve already told her since high school. She has no way of knowing that I read people better than most in the world.
A quick glance around assures me we’re out of earshot of café patrons. “I’m twenty-eight, and I’m a SEAL, Carina.”
“Wow. I’ve read about your kind before. This is going to be awesome,” she says, her eyes wide. Scribbling more notes, I watch her long fingers and unpainted nails as they move. “I know you don’t want vague questions, but some are going to be open as it’s the best way to get information. Can you tell me a little about your experience in that position?” She lets her gaze dart around the room. She’ll be just as cautious and subtle as I will. Amazing.
“It’s my turn to ask a question.”
She sighs. “This is going to take a long time if this is how you want to play it.” Carina tilts her head to the side and looks down at my coffee.
“What’s the dresser’s name?” I ask, my tone just as quiet.
She swallows, fidgets with the collar of her shirt, and avoids my gaze completely. “I’m really not comfortabletalking about this with a stranger,” Carina replies.
