Page 27 of Badd Ass
I swallowed hard. “Shit, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just...I figured you’d be up by now.” I cleared my throat. “I’m calling to check in. See how you’re doing. Make sure there’s…see if there’s anything I can do.”
I dug the heel of my palm into my eye socket, as if to rub the raw emotional pain out of myself through direct force.
Annalisa was silent for a long time. “It’s been several months, Zane. Why now?”
I hesitated. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I just…I don’t know.”
She blew out a breath. “Let me make some coffee. I’m just gonna put you on mute for minute, okay?”
“Yeah, fine.”
There was a good minute or two of dead silence, and then I heard Annalisa click back onto the line. “Hey, I’m back.” I heard her take a sip of coffee, and then she spoke in a low tone, meaning her son was sleeping somewhere. “So you’re checking in, huh? I don’t know what you want me to say, Zane. Things are hard.”
“Tell me the truth, I guess, whatever it is.”
“I miss Marco, that’s the truth. I don’t know how to cope without him. I mean, he wasn’t around much, but we got to FaceTime, and I got letters from him pretty regularly, plus he’d get leave once in awhile, so I’d actually get to see him.” She sniffled. “He never met Tony. Tony never…he’s never known his father. All he’s ever known is me and my parents. So…I miss him. I just miss him. He’s gone. He’s dead, he’s never coming back and I’m alone and I don’t know how to do this.”
I felt my eyes burn and my throat close up. “Shit. I know. I keep going to call him, or text him, and then I remember.”
She sniffled again. “We get some money from the government, but it’s not much. It doesn’t cover…everything. My parents aren’t young anymore and they’re retired, so they can’t help much, and…I’m working midnights at a nursing home, which is why I was still asleep. I just got home from work an hour or so ago. I’m struggling, Zane. That’s how I’m doing.”
“Fuck. Why didn’t you call me? Or Luis or—or any of us? You know we’ll do anything for you.”
“And say what? ‘Hey guys, I’m a poor war widow, please send money?’” She snorted. “Yeah, right. I’ve gotsomepride.”
“Fuck pride, Anna. Weoweyou. You’re Campy’s wife. He was our brother and that makes you our sister, and his kid is…goddammit.” I cleared my throat. “Text me your address. I’m calling the guys. You’re getting help, Anna. You shouldn’t have to work midnights to make ends meet, not when you’ve got all of us.”
“I’m not accepting your charity or your pity, Zane. He died doing what he loved. You didn’t get him killed any more than Luis or Oscar or any of the other guys did. There’s no guilt for any of you. You don’t owe me anything.” Her voice softened. “Thanks for calling, Zane. It’s good to hear from you.”
“Anna, goddammit, it’s not charity or pity. Just give me your address.” I barked the last as an order, gruff, harsh.
She just laughed, a soft, sad huff. “Fine. I know better than to argue with you. You’ll just have your baby brother stalk me online or something.”
“I would never,” I protested.
She laughed again. “Would, and have. Remember when you had Xavier hack into Marco’s email account? You sent everyone in the unit creepy clown porn from Marco’s email address.”
I laughed. “God, that was hysterical. He waspissed.”
“That one you sent? Where the clown has to take off the fake nose to go down on the girl? Marco almost passed out from laughing so hard.”
“You watched that shit?”
“Of course we did. We watched the clown porn and then we got it on like Donkey Kong. He kept honking my boobs like they were a clown’s nose.” She laughed, but it turned into sniffles. “He was only pretending to be pissed at you. He thought it was funny.”
“I know. He was shitty at being mad at people. He couldn’t hold a grudge if his life depended on it.”
“I broke up with him three times while he was in BUD/S. He’d be pissed for a day or two, but then he’d call me and convince me I hadn’t really broken up with him. He refused to let me.”
“You’re what got him through BUD/S,” I told her.
She couldn’t quite answer clearly. “I—I know.”
“And he got me through it,” I said. “So yeah, I do fucking owe you.”
She sighed. “Are you coping, Zane?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying.”