I had two weeks clear in August after a summer job, and called to see if she was interested in a visit. Seemed like the right thing to do. I wondered whether there had been marriage troubles that drove him into the military.
"Yes, please come. It will be good to see you. My relatives have a cabin at a lake in the mountains. I'll take a couple of day's vacation. We can hike and swim."
My older brother and I had never been close and so I wasn't close to his girlfriend either. Girlfriend who married him right out of college. Like other young people, they fled the small town in Ohio where my dad ran the only drugstore, and washed up in San Diego.
Months later, we heard that he had joined the Marines, and Meg was in nursing school to take her mind off his absence.
Two years later, in early summer, he was blown up by a roadside bomb in Afghanistan. After an unhappy wait, a closed casket with his remains arrived at the airbase in Maryland, to be held for a family decision on burial. By that time, my parents seemed numb about the whole thing. Margaret flew back and stayed with us while they talked over the funeral.
He was eligible for burial in Arlington, and on a very hot Virginia morning in July, two sets of parents and Meg and I stood to one side as the Marines buried him according to military ritual. The rifle shots were meant to honor a hero, but they had a barbaric echo to me.
Margaret said she needed to get back to her nursing job in California. She had decided to stay there and get on with her life without Mark.
The day after my plane flight, we were on the sofa in her studio apartment. She sat there silently, gazing at the ceiling.
"Why did you marry my brother?"
"He had that look in his eye that turned a girl on. Turned me on."
"But everyone knew he had a crazy streak. If you could sleep with him, why marry him?"
Her hand reached out and caressed my face. "Peter, it's hard to understand. I certainly don't. But he is dead and we shouldn't talk ill of him."
At midnight, tipsy from too many drinks, we found our beds and collapsed. Sometime when it was still dark, she climbed in with me and hung on tight. In the morning, with sun in the room, I lay quietly, afraid to wake her. Her breathing changed and a finger poked me in the side. "I guess I am a bad girl, climbing in my brother in law's bed."
I pulled her to my chest, ignoring the hard erection her thigh was touching. My hands found tough, muscled flesh down her spine and into her behind. Her lips found mine and said, "That's very nice, please don't stop."
Her head pressed down on me. "I'm going to cry, Peter, damn it. I still have everything bottled up inside.
Softly, I said, "Go ahead. Hit me if you need to. Tell me how useless men are."
For long minutes, her sobs went on. She tried to stop, but waves of sad grief kept coming. I had known several girl friends in college, and parted friends without tears. So far at least. I would graduate in a year. Mark and Margaret's example wasn't steering me toward an early marriage.
I handed her some tissue from the nightstand, and she sat up, wiping red eyes. I tried not to look, but it was hard not to appreciate her beautiful body.
She smiled a little, and said, "Naked bad girls get checked out, don't they?"
"You are worth checking out. The best I've seen. Have you found any male company?"
The smile turned into a grin. "You are it." She reached for my shaft and asked, "You are already a friend, what about some benefits?"
"With a body like yours, you are playing with fire."
"That's what your brother said. I never got to finish teasing him because he always had me over his shoulder finding a bed."
She stuck out her tongue and asked, "What would you say if I said it was time for someone to light my fire? That it's been too long since I felt like a woman."
"I'd say we were going for a hard run, a nice breakfast, and more conversation."
"But it might happen?
"Yes, it might happen."
She was fast. Almost as fast as I was, and I worked out most days because of soccer. Breathing hard, I asked, "Where did all this speed come from?'
Her fist hit my arm sharply. "You said I could hit you?"
"Let it out. All of it."
"I am. You are not feeling like a victim, are you?"
"No, I'm feeling like a stud who is going to get his reward soon."
