Project Reunion Read Online Free

10, so you’d see me tomorrow. But I didn’t want to wait that long, so I came over to wait for you. But I fell asleep. Hasn’t it been more like 36 hours by now?”
He snorted softly. “More like 10 since I asked for 24. But yeah, a day and a half since I asked you about Popeye.”
“So I need to go, because you’re still mad?”
He considered that, still petting me gently in the dark. He was going to put me straight back to sleep if he kept this petting so platonic. “It’s not so much that I’m mad at you. My temper’s still too close to the surface. Doesn’t matter. I’m exhausted. Come to bed.”
“If you don’t want me here, I should walk home.”
He drew me up into a hug. “Come to bed,” he repeated, in my ear. “Don’t make me carry you.” He stood up and yanked me to my feet, by the arm. He left me standing there, to go brush his teeth and change for bed.
At that mixed message, I thought maybe I should leave after all. But that thought made me tune in to the weather. Keening wind. Ozone and ions in the air, and a wet smell of burnt dust, overlaid with fish. A sudden spit of drumming rain on the roof, then none. I glanced out a window to pitch black. Emmett had lit two candles, one in the kitchen, and one in his bedroom. They seemed to provide the only light in the universe, and the candle flames were guttering like mad. No, it wasn’t a good night to walk home. I blew out the kitchen candle and took my turn brushing my teeth.
I tried to give him space by lying as far to my edge of the bed as possible. He climbed in and dragged me onto his shoulder. “So. What couldn’t wait?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, Emmett. This was a bad idea. I invaded your space, right after you asked for space.”
“Uh-huh. Dee, the rooster out there is gonna crow in an hour. Out with it.”
“ I didn’t call America the ‘evil empire.’ Popeye is a pig. I defended you at that meeting. I explained why we needed the Army for New York. Maybe not as hard and glowing as you would’ve liked. But it was a hostile audience. And I wanted them to do something for us.”
Emmett was silent, stroking my side with the hand attached to his arm beneath me.
“What did you say to Popeye, anyway?” I went on.
Emmett clamped his other hand over my mouth. “Stop. Dee, we’ve never had a good fight before. Some ground rules. Don’t change the subject before I respond to the first subject. You damned Yankees talk too damn fast. I listened to you. Now I’m thinking. You wait.” He unclamped my mouth and resumed his silence.
A clock ticked in the kitchen. A buffet of wind struck the southwest corner of the house. I puzzled over why the air smelled so fishy tonight. Dead sponges smelled especially rank. Was the Sound really rough yesterday? That often tossed sponge fragments up onto the beaches to die. I waited at least 15 seconds. Southerners talk too damned slow. Did Missouri even count as the South? Emmett’s Ozark accent sure sounded southern when he laid it on thick. The Ozarks extended into Arkansas, didn’t they? Arkansas was definitely South.
“What do you really think of the U.S. Army?” he asked, jolting me back to the present.
“Umm...” I thought giving my honest opinion would not help here.
“Uh-huh,” he responded. And he waited, damn him.
“Look, Emmett, I didn’t support any war we’ve been in for... I don’t remember the last war I did support. I think we usually did more harm than good, and mixed into fights that were none of our business. We invaded countries, on insufficient grounds. And yeah, I think you could call that ‘imperial’ behavior. Possibly one could even make a case for ‘evil.’ I think the U.S. government and the military-industrial complex have spiraled out of control for a long time.
“But that’s not the same as being against the people in the Army. I respect our soldiers. I don’t blame them for the orders they carry out. As an American, I owe them for their service. And you