"Our Kind of Place"

Night was coming quickly under the winter sun. By the time we left the theater the sun had sank to the horizon and had cast an orange light in the sky. Buildings were lit up and headlights lined the streets. People were huddled tighter than before as they walked in the cold air, cursing their own idiocy. Not that I was any different.

"Admit it, you liked it," Carly said, wrapped around my arm and smiling. She had forgotten about the tense meeting or at least had the courtesy to leave it be.

"Meh," I offered my simple reply.

"Oh please. I saw you smiling." She smiles wider and I look away.

She had chosen some dramatic thriller. Some ham-fisted story of an old soldier or some such having to take on a legion of bad guys to save some family members. Nothing about it was particularly memorable. The only stand out being oddly well-choreographed fights and the man's drive to finish his task, no matter the cost.

"Just happy to be near you."

I paid little attention to the movie. My focus directed more towards Carly as she rested against me. And the events that had transpired earlier. The meeting kept circling in my mind.

"I picked that movie for you, you know."

"Is that so? Are you sure that perfect little Carly Shay didn't just want to watch bad guys get torn apart?" I was teasing her, and it made me smile.

"I admit, the action was probably the better part of the movie. Speaking of which, your opinion?" Her hair was dancing in the breeze. Her cheeks were red and she was as close as she could be to me without being inside my damn jacket. We were walking to a nearby restaurant, some high-end place she had sworn to the quality of.

"Of what? The movie?" I didn't understand. Didn't help I was still drifting around.

"No, the action. I would like to hear a professional's opinion," she said as we swerved around a group of people coming the opposite way.

I huffed. I know she's joking, but she asked for it. there were plenty of things to pick apart.

"Well, for being a soldier he had terrible trigger discipline, couldn't shoulder the rifle correctly, was clearly cross dominant, and didn't know how to throw a punch to save his life. Hence him being thrown around so much."

She tilts her head back and sighs with a smile.

"I can forgive the last one because he was in the Army and they don't learn shit about hand to hand combat. He didn't seem to know a damn thing about guns, like when he scared that guy with his MP5, not even sure how he had one, and said he could fight an army with it."

"Okay, okay, enough," she laughed.

"He never checked bodies, never double tapped, had terrible form. Oh, and my favorite, at the end where he dropped his gun to fist fight the bad guy even though he had the only gun. And the fists fights. Four guys at once?"

"That's it." She stops and plants her lips on mine. A joking gesture to stop me. Welcome nonetheless.

"And shrugging off a bullet..." I start with a smile and she throws her hands up in defeat. "That shit hurts."

Her smile fades a little as she looks at my shoulder. The idea that I knew that for a fact was not something she liked. And she knew I had been shot, she had asked about the top scar last night. In just a moment we went from laughing over my nagging to remembering just how much shit I had been through.

She took a deep breath and put her hand on my left arm, thinking of the nasty field of ruined flesh that had taken place there.

"Does it... does it hurt?" She shifts her eyes to mine.

It's not a question I want to answer. She will know if a lie. She would see the pain hiding in my eyes and realize just how much I had done. But she doesn't look away, doesn't shy or even blink. She just inches closer and keeps looking, keeps digging for an answer.

"Carly..."

She finally looks away, hands sliding down to mine. She takes the broken limb in her soft palms and rubs a thumb across the dark skin left behind. Only the faintest feeling of pressure. The nerves had died, the same way most of me had.

"Yes, it hurts. Most of the time it's numb, the sensation was torn from me. But other times it's enough to make me want to vomit. I wasn't awake when it happened, but being burnt alive is something you feel no matter what."

She doesn't say anything. Eyes closed and shaky breathing as she brings my hand to her cheek. She holds on tight. Like if she let's go I'll suddenly be gone. The idea not too far from the truth. I cup her cheek and she takes a deep breath as I run a thumb across the smooth skin.

"Carly..." nothing. "Carly, look at me." I cup both cheeks, resting my forehead against hers.

She opens her eyes, glassy and the faintest of tears forming.

"Carly, I have been hurt so many times. More than just all the scars. More than you can understand. I've been through so much pain and suffering that it broke me, Carly." I pull back and meet her eyes. "But nothing hurts me more than realizing the pain I caused you by leaving. I'm not afraid of being hurt, but I can't forgive myself for what I did to you."

There it is. The look she's had all day. The look I can't place, but know so well. And suddenly I see it, I see what it is. It's the look I had every time I saw myself in the mirror all these years. It's emptiness. It's disgust at yourself. It's the hatred for the loneliness that has filled your heart. It's the realization of all the wasted days, all the hard times you just let happen and all the good times you let slip past. The look you have when you are dying inside.

She isn't trying to escape the banality of her life. She isn't seeking a carefree day with no problems. She doesn't want to feel like a kid again. She wants to feel alive. She wants that horrible hollowness in her chest to be filled and actually feel like she's doing something.

It almost makes me laugh. All this self-pity. All the self-loathing and the years of remembering her as an angel and in the end she was just as miserable as I was. Still a pair after all this time.

"Was there anything you liked?" she asked, trying to feel like she hadn't wasted part of the day.

"Yeah, I like his attitude. I liked that he knew he couldn't stop till it was over," I say and she nods. "People are staring at us. Let's go get that dinner you keep bragging about." My voice low and warm as she blinks a few times as my words click. "Come on." I lace my fingers with her's and nod down the street.

She gives a smile and wipes away another forming tear. She wants a day where she's alive, and I need to give it to her. It's all I can do at this point.

We walked in silence, holding one another and staying warm. The restaurant wasn't far away, but the walk was sobering. She had steadied herself and put the face back on. Acting like she was happy and carefree. Was she doing it for me?

The restaurant was a swanky place. Sleek and modern. The dark color scheme and the tall front windows drew the eye to the finely dressed people inside as they ate their expensive meals and spoke of business. It was high society from floor to ceiling. The exact kind of place I didn't want to be anywhere near.

"Is this really it?" I ask.

"What's wrong?" she asks, head tilted.

"Carly, this is the kind of place I usually get thrown out of."

"Well, this time you are in pleasant company. I say we see what happens." She was smug and smirking at the compliment she gave herself.

I sigh and look around the area. I look at all the buildings and cars and people, all much better off than most. I look at the snow covered sidewalks and the people traveling them. At the dark sky high above the building and at the row of shop around a nearby corner across the street.

"Fine, but if they have small servings, I'm leaving." I finish with a smile and she returns it, nodding in agreement.

"I would expect nothing less from Sam Puckett. Come on, wanna get in their while there is still room."

The doors opened with a blast of warm air and a wave of sounds and smells. The place was packed with good-looking people wearing sharp and elegant clothes and eating gourmet food. There was a small line of people waiting for their table. Well dressed wait staff zipped around and quietly served the patrons. They even had a maitre d' standing at a small reception stand and politely ushering people inward.

Everything about this place was far beyond my realm. And from the look of the people around us as we stepped in line to be seated, everyone knew it. It was all glares and upturned noses.

But Carly didn't care, didn't notice. The looks weren't at her, so she didn't see them. She was simply gazing around the room at the people and waiting for someone to guide us.

"So, uh, how do you know this place?" I asked. I was almost nervous. It was odd, almost funny.

"I eat here once or twice a month. Have the occasional meeting or two. The food is great."

"You always did have a nose for the finer things."

She smiled and pulled me closer. "And an appreciation for the simpler things," she said. "Besides, a place like this is no fun without good company."

"As much as I would like to take the compliment, Carly, look around at this place. It's so..."

"Fancy?"

"Snooty. I was going to say snooty and uptight. I'm already getting bad looks and the main floor hasn't even seen me yet."

The line moves and we step forward, only two places back from the maitre d'. He seemed to notice me and was clearly unimpressed.

"You make it sound like we're at some grand gala." She seemed confused by my reluctance. This whole thing was normal to her. Commonplace.

"I may as well be a barbarian that forced her way into the palace ball."

She laughed, "Well, would that make me the princess you steal away?"

"I think it would." She was smiling, but I wasn't.

The line moved again and we were one away. She was still treating this like it was some fantasy. And I had agreed to be apart of it. But every story needs a little realism. And in the real world, people like me didn't get to eat at places like this.

"Oh, come on, Sam. What's wrong?"

"This just... this isn't my kind of place, Carly." I took a deep breath and faced her. I wanted her to understand. "I mean, when did we ever go to places that were like this? When did this become normal for you?"

"I don't..."

"People that eat at places like this aren't happy, Carly. This isn't a place for me, hell, for either of us. Growing up, our fancy eating place had smoothies and foods on a stick."

The line cleared, it was just us. But we weren't looking at the man. He didn't matter yet.

"Do you really not want to be here?" She was sincere. It may have gotten through, might have clicked.

The maitre d' cleared his throat and I looked out the window and down the street across from us and saw something. He cleared his throat again and this time I heard him.

"Do it one more time and I will strangle you with that fucking handkerchief," I growled and he visibly recoiled as I turned to Carly. "What if we went someplace else? Just the two of us, being us. Not acting all pompous for the sake of the assholes around us. Huh?" I pulled her hands up and waited.

After a moment she smiled and sighed. "What matters is that it's us."

I smile back. It was what I wanted. The maitre d' it clearly agitated in the corner of my eye. I can see the impatience, the disapproval. He brings a hand to his mouth and I snapped towards him.

"Do not fucking test me."

He lowers his hand I take the first few steps towards the door. Carly is right on my heels, a smile on her face as we step into the cold.

"Okay, what now?"

"I can already see a place better suited for us."

"Is that so?"

I smile wide and pull her hand, starting a slow jog with her in tow. She laughs at the sudden action and doesn't stop as we move quicker and quicker down the street and across to the other side, heading down the side street I saw earlier.

"Really, Sam?" She tried to sound disappointed but couldn't hide the smile.

"Yup, this is perfect."

We stopped in front of a small diner. It had low windows and cracked paint. The chairs and tables inside were old and beat up. It was empty except the pudgy man wiping down the counter with a yellow rag.

"Is this place even open?" she asked.

I opened the door and stepped in, a small bell ringing and the man looked up, a goatee covering his pudgy face. He smiled and greeted us, gesturing towards the entire diner as a place to sit.

"Yeah, I think it is."

We moved over to a small booth at the front window. Not too far from the door or the counter. Carly was still smiling as she took off her coat and cap, setting them on the bench seat as she sat. I took my time, taking in the dim light and laid-back atmosphere of the empty diner. The smell of fried and greasy food hovers in the air. The entire place made me feel comfortable.

I finally sat, peeling off the leather jacket and smiling at Carly, her chin in her hand and her elbow on the table. She was smirking, trying to hide a deeper smile. It must have seemed humorous to her. I did just drag her away from what was probably one of the best restaurants in the city and into a greasy and dingy diner.

Neither of us spoke. I rested my arms on the table and she kept looking, her eyes flicking over me. I found myself smiling and she looked out to the street.

"So, this is our kind of place?"

"Do you object to it?"

She took a deep breath and turned back to me, a small smile and warmth in her eyes. "No, I don't."

"What can I get you, ladies?" His voice snapped Carly his way as it came across the diner. He hadn't moved from the counter, still standing with a rag in his hand.

"I will have a garden salad and a water, please," she asked politely. Figured that Carly would go for something healthy in a place like this.

"No problem. And you, ma'am?"

It occurred to me that I never even saw a menu. No great big board above the counter, no staff to bring worn laminated scraps of paper that amounted to having bacon and eggs. Sausage if it was a good day. But I didn't need one.

"I will have the biggest, greasy-est, most heart stopping-est bacon cheeseburger you can possibly make with a side of whatever form of potato you recommend and a strawberry milkshake."

He nodded a few times before laughing. "Now that is a proper order. Just give me a few minutes and I'll be right out." He was still smiling as he walked back to the kitchen, still chuckling.

I was happy. The happiest I had been all day. Although I can't find it surprising that the best part of my day is waiting for food. I felt so young. So normal. It felt like everything that I had done had faded away, even if I could still smell the occasional puff of burnt gunpowder. Even if I still had the sharp hints of pain in my body.

I feel Carly take my hand in hers and look. She was smiling. But not a regular smile. It was that smile I always got so long ago. The smile that said things were just right.

"You're right, this is our kind of place."

"What changed your mind?"

"That smile you just had... it's the best smile you've had all day. Reminds me of when we were younger and you'd hover over the counters in places like this and tell the cooks to hurry up." Her smile faded some, her eyes becoming distant for a moment. "Thank you, Sam. Thank you for today. Thank you-"

I stop her mid-sentence, her eyes going wide as I stand and lean over the table, quickly planting a kiss on her lips and just barely pulling back to whisper, "The day isn't over. So don't start getting all sentimental on me now."

She smiles an kisses me back. "I get half of your milkshake," she says with a grin.

"Anything you say, Cupcake."

I sit back down and feel the warmth in my chest. I let it wash over me. The tingling and the urge to keep smiling. The signs of happiness. The signs of peace. I needed this day as much as she did. And as much as I never want this moment to end, I know that soon enough the world will start turning again and I have to face the music. I have to confront how wrong this is. Have to get Carly to admit it. To understand what she has done. And not just to herself, but what she's done to me as well. She has a life, and she has to deal with it. And I have to find out what the voice in the back of my head is. Find a way to stop the little tormentor that's dug its way into the back of my skull.

But that all comes later. For right now, I think I'm perfectly happy sitting in the warmth of her eyes.

"Double the bacon!" I shout at the kitchen and a laugh comes in reply. Yes, perfectly happy. "And pie!"