An Army of One Less - Part 2

I’ve got your back…and I’ve got your front.
- Brad Paisley

11:50 a.m.: “Ahh, look at the baby horse,” Jessa says lowering her window. “And that calf. I like anything babies.”
12:03 p.m.: Sign along highway reads: Drive the speed limit or PAY THE PRICE!
12:04 p.m.: “Let me drive,” Jessa says. “I don’t’ like being threatened like that. There’s no reason to threaten us. Pay the price. Fuck them.”
12:04:22 p.m.: You really want to drive? I say. “Yes. Pull over at the next rest stop. I have to go to the bathroom anyway,” she demands. OK, I say.
12:18 p.m.: Reach over to change the radio station and Jessa slaps my hand. “That’s Faith and Tim, asshole.”
12:31 p.m.: Pass graveyard. “I read somewhere that when you’re buried with fake breasts they’re the only things that will remain intact,” Jessa says. “So if they dig up your coffin after two hundred years all that will be in there is a set of silicone breasts.”
12:32 p.m.: “In a thousand years they’ll be nothing of me left,” she says. “Real breasts are fleeting.”
12:33 p.m.: “You can write that down if you want,” she says. “I know you like to write shit down.”
12:34 p.m.: Write it down.
12:36 p.m.: Hey, I say. I was reading the other day about this superstitious guy who whenever he bought a coke would have to open several of them first because he claimed he could tell by the sound of it opening whether it was a lucky coke or not.
12:37 p.m.: “Your nonsequitors are tiresome,” Jessa says. “We passed a graveyard, that’s why I told you about the breast implants. You’re just blurting out stuff. Plus, now you’re making me thirsty. You should have packed a cooler.”
12:38 p.m.: You caught me off guard, I say.
12:42 p.m.: “How’s Katee doing?” Jessa asks. She’s like all the people I know who are going to start their lives tomorrow but never do, I say. “Like you,” Jessa says.
12:45 p.m.: “When we get near your house I want to go to the bank and get all my money out of the ATM,” Jessa tells me. “If the military can direct deposit they can direct withdrawal. I’ve got to get to the money first.”
12:46 p.m.: “Oh, and I need to get Q-Tips. You can get everything on base but Q-Tips. I don’t know why. You know I’m going to have to stay with you guys for awhile.”
12:46:14 p.m.: I figured as much, I say. “I just don’t want to surprise my parents with this right now. My Dad won’t understand,” she says.
12:47 p.m.: What about your mom? I ask. “She’s been fucking her boss and telling my Dad she’s been going to Curves. I don’t’ think she’ll care one way or the other,” Jessa says.
12:48 p.m.: What do you want to do when you get back?
12:48:43 p.m.: “I don’t know, apply at Spencer Gifts.”
12:49 p.m.: “And I want to go to the Warped Tour. Will you drive me to the Warped Tour?” Sure.
12:50 p.m.: “Am I the only one looking forward to Rush Hour 3 (italics) coming out?”
12:50:14 p.m.: No.
1:03 p.m.: I don’t see any official rest stops coming up, I say. Do you want me to just pull off and find a gas station? I’ve got to get gas anyway. “I’m not going to the bathroom at a gas station but do what you have to do,” she says.
1:12 p.m.: Stop to get gas and Jessa goes into convenience store.
1:17 p.m.: Almost done filling tank when Jessa comes up from behind and pops open a coke about two inches from my face. “Lucky enough for you,” she says.
1:18 p.m.: Did you use the bathroom? I ask. “No way,” she says. “The sight of that bathroom made me never want to go to the bathroom again. So I’m not.”
1:18:14 p.m.: We can go to the Bob Evans across the street. “What for?” she says. “I no longer go to the bathroom.”
1:20 p.m.: Jessa takes the wheel and we begin to make very good time.
1:41 p.m.: “I told you about Matthew”, Jessa says. “What about you and what’s her name?” She doesn’t’ think she can love me but I think she can, I say. “You’re such an optimist,” she says.
2:13 p.m.: Go to bank and Jessa is feverishly trying to get all her money out of the ATM. I remind her there’s a limit at the ATM and she neds to go in the bank. “I don’t want to go in a bank wearing camouflage,” she says. “It scares people. Besides, if you wait a few minutes between withdrawals the machine forgets you. Here, here’s 20 dollars. Go buy yourself something pretty.”
2:20 p.m.: Walk over to the car and try to get love bugs off the hood by spitting on it.
2:25 p.m.: Jessa comes back with wad of cash and tells me to hold it for her until she “gets her motherfuckin’ shit together.”
2:31 p.m.: Katee is ecstatic to see Jessa. “You look great. You’re all clavicle-y. And I love your pants,” Katee says hugging her. “When people wear faux camouflage I think it’s stupid but when it’s real it’s cool.”
2:31:31 p.m.: “Trust me, nothing’s cool about these pants,” Jessa says.
2:32 p.m.: Tell Katee that Jessa no longer has to go to the bathroom. “Ever?” Katee says.
2:32:12 p.m.: “Ever,” Jesse says.
2:32:23 p.m.: “That’s awesome,” Katee says.
2:33 p.m.: “How’s Matthew?” Katee asks. “Useless,” Jessa says.
2:33:21 p.m.: He can’t do the fucking motion anymore, I say.
2:33:29 p.m.: “Oh, that’s too bad,” Katee says. “Let me try on your Army boots?”
2:36 p.m.: Wearing nothing but a sleep shirt and the boots, Katee starts stomping around the apartment and kicking everything in sight. “These are awesome. My foot doesn’t feel anything when I kick,” she says. “I could kick stuff all day with these. How do you get them so shiny?”
2:39 p.m.: “Cool Whip,” Jessa says. “It’s an old Navy trick but we use it in the army too. “We have Cool Whip. I’m going to go polish my shoes,” Katee says cheerily.
2:44 p.m.: Jessa looks at me wearily and says, “I need to lie down.” You can sleep in my bed, I say. “I don’t’ want to sleep on your smelly sheets,” she says. “This couch is perfect. And hey, if I change my mind later will you take me back tonight?” No, I say.
2:45 p.m.: Katee comes out with Cool Whip. While both spooning it into her mouth and dabbing little blobs on to a pair of pink high heels, she starts blabbing about some peace rally where Doorway 27 is going to be playing. “They suck. And I don’t give a crap about peace. This couch is my fucking peace,” Jessa says crashing down and burying her face in the sofa.
2:46 p.m.: With her voice muffled by the cushions she says, “If anybody goes out, get me some Q-Tips.”

Note: This column is dedicated to the memory of Spc. Jessa T. Galan and Pfc. Sam W. Huff.