Page 3 of Pen Me

The neighbors. The funeral home staff. And, most especially, the police that came every time our parents fought in the years that followed. They were all aware of that number, too.

They screamed it at each other, mid-argument regularly. It meant everything, and nothing. A blow. An accusation. A means of shock and awe that took the dispute to a whole new level. One that could be felt, even if it was etched in silence.

Man, I didn’t miss home.

I missed my brothers. I missed mom and dad, too, individually, not together! The military had been my saving grace. It allowed me a fresh start without all that tension. A place to breathe where no one knew that my family was haunted by a two-year-old, or that my father was the president of a one percenter motorcycle club.

The club’s shadow was heavier and thicker than the grief and their marriage combined. It left me isolated. Guys my age were afraid of me, since the club made sure everyone knew– hands off Ziggy’s daughter.

My phone rang, ripping me away from my somber thoughts. I recognized the number to Medical and swiped for the green. I was expecting my test results, and didn’t figure it would take more than a moment for them to say, “See you next year.”

“Is this Sergeant Samantha Nash?” a somber voice on the other end asked.

“It is,” I confirmed.”

“Great, this is Kayla with Medical. Your results are back. It looks like you’re positive for squamous cell.”

“Squamous cell,” I repeated, a question hanging in my tone.

“Yes. HPV.”

My eyes bugged as I tried to recall what the letters stood for.

“You’ll need to come back on Tuesday for a follow up and scheduling. In the meanwhile, I’ll find out if the doctor wants you to come in and provide a list of your past partners at your convenience.”

“Uh,” I closed my eyes as my cheeks heated.

There was no way in hell I was going to march into Medical to discuss my body count.

“No.” I cleared my throat.

“I’m sorry?” She sounded surprised.

“Ah… There is no need for all of that. I’ve only had one partner, ever.”

“Oh.” The surprise seemed to stretch.

“Yeah. His name is Bill Parker, Corporal Bill Parker.”

“That’s unfortunate,” she murmured, so low I wasn’t sure I heard her.

“What?”

“I said, the doctor will see you on Tuesday then. Give us a call back if you have any further questions or needs. We’ll see you then, okay?”

All I could do was blink and stare at the phone when she hung up before I could answer.

Call ended, it read.

“No shit.” I set the phone down and groaned as I glanced back at the picture of my family.

I’d considered telling them about Bill on my next visit. We’d only slept together once, before he went to his sixteen-week training, so I wasn’t sure if it was serious enough or the right time. We’d been seeing each other for a while before that, and he called regularly since he’d been gone, so the idea had been floating around more recently.

I couldn’t even wrap my head around what had just happened. I sat down and stressed over whether it would take me off duty, or what it would mean if I needed excessive treatment. I didn’t even know how someone treated a thing like HPV.

I swiped on the Google icon, but before it could load, Bill’s name flashed across the screen and the phone vibrated in my hand.

I sucked my teeth, unsure if I wanted to answer it or not. I didn’t know how to talk about something like that, let alone over the phone.

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