Moondogs - Alexander Yates [40]
When the waiter left Joseph announced that he wasn’t fighting anymore.
“You don’t get to end it by yourself,” Monique said.
“I did not say I was ending it. I just said I was done. You can keep fighting all you want.” He turned and stared deliberately over the balcony. The courtyard below wasn’t too crowded yet, though some of the first transvestite hookers already haunted the perimeter. Fountains gurgled and Chinese lanterns swayed from drooping palms. A restaurant band did a sound-check on a little stage, counting down into microphones, adjusting Panama hats and tuning acoustic guitars. Joseph tapped his fingers to the non-beat on the terrace railing.
Drinks arrived and Joseph raised his to make a toast. “To the great escape,” he said, clinking his glass against Monique’s beer.
“Uh-huh,” she said. “I get it. It’s so incredibly terrible here.”
“Is that what I said?”
“You remember who they were escaping from in that movie? Nazis.”
“I see. Are you going to be like this all evening?”
She chewed her lip and watched him sip his soda. She knew she was being awful, and wanted to be even worse. “You know, if you just came in with me, if you stuck with it for a week, your time here might feel less like torture. The construction job in the annex is a big deal, and Jeff needs all the trailing spouses he can get. He’s got more than enough work to keep you busy. You don’t even have to think of it as a job—it’d just be a way to fill up the day.”
“Sweetheart.” Joseph put his palms together and rested his nose on his middle fingers. Like prayer, but condescending. “You lay off the kids when they try something once. Please, could you extend me the same courtesy?”
To be fair, he had tried. He applied for his security clearance even before they packed out. He got his Interim Secret clearance pretty quick—prior drug use and a failed marriage, but no financial debts or questionable publications—and he spent a full month as an escort. He led Filipino cleaning crews through controlled-access areas, making sure they didn’t slip printouts into their watering cans, getting snubbed by officers when he tried to make small talk. He was no star among his colleagues back at American University, but the step down still humiliated him.
“It even sounds demeaning.” Joseph opened his palms and laid them flat. “Trailing spouse. Like toilet paper stuck on your shoe when you walk out of a public restroom. How embarrassing. Besides, Jeff is a Neanderthal.”
The waiter returned to see if they were ready to order. Monique said something in Tagalog that made him leave the terrace.
“I can’t go on vacation next week,” she said.
Joseph stared at her.
“We’re already understaffed, and with Chuck in Kabul I’m the only one left who can run American Citizen Services. I took over this afternoon. They need me here.”
He opened his lips and sucked air through clenched teeth. “So, we have to postpone a little?”
“A lot. Chuck doesn’t come back until September, and by then the kids are in school.”
“Can someone else do it? We have been planning this for months.”
“There’s no one else. It’s summer. Everyone’s on their way out, and the replacements haven’t arrived yet. I don’t have a choice. And besides that, it’s a big move for me. It’s a lot of responsibility. You should be happy for me.”
“Happy for you?” He sounded the words out. He put his calamansi soda to his lips and set it down again. Was he shaking? Was he tearing up? “No. No. In the shuttle—Jeff already knew about this, didn’t he? Your whole office knows about this. And you have got me packing. I’m finding someone to look after the goddamn gecko and lovebird. I’m picking up traveler’s checks.” His voice rose with each sentence. People in the courtyard began to look up. “This is my vacation and I’m the last to find out? What the hell is the matter with you? How long have you known?”
“Just