Summer of Emotion: Me and Anita

There were two things that we did well in Africa: fire, and fucking.

Guns and fucking.

I glanced down at my now-empty glass, on which Anita's lipstick still lingered. She had cracked a smile when I had told her the nickname our unit had for her.

Looking up from my drink, I noticed that she was staring at me. Her eyes roamed over my face as she took another long draw from her cigarette.

Jesus Christ, she was pretty. It had been a long time since I'd seen her without the dark glasses that had become her trademark, but even back then she would catch every male soldier's eye with those bright green irises.

"How long has it been?" She asked me quietly, taking a drag off the cigarette before flicking it into the grass just beyond the bench we were seated on. "Seven years now?"

"Just about," I replied, still staring at her, trying to wipe away some of the memories that came flooding back to me. "You haven't changed."

She laughed a little bit self-consciously and waved off the compliment. "You know what they say about people who wear masks all the time." I smiled back at her and nodded slowly before looking out over the park again around us.

On one side of the park was a small stage, where an acoustic guitar player was playing far too loudly for his own good or for anyone else's liking for that matter. The couple sitting behind us was screaming at each other over the loud music, their words fortunately lost to us in our quaint corner of solitude in spite of how loud they were being. To our right was a large pond full of geese and ducks and swans and - I could have sworn - flamingos. To our left was a line of trees that led up towards a large hill on top of which sat a large stone house surrounded by manicured gardens and fountains lining its perimeter.

"I never expected you to come," she said to me suddenly, turning towards me so that our eyes met again. "I didn't think you even remembered my name."

"Of course I remembered your name," I replied quickly, surprised by how much it hurt to look at her again after so long apart. How many times had I dreamed about seeing her again? Countless! But how many times had those dreams turned into nightmares in which she was dead or missing or worse?

Anita sighed and turned back towards the pond again, putting one hand on the bench between us so that she could lean against it while propping herself up with the other arm resting on her knee. Her long hair fell across her shoulder like a black curtain as she looked out onto the water once more, lost in thought for a moment before turning back towards me with a smirk on her face. "So tell me," she began slowly as she turned back towards me with an expression full of mischief on her face, "how did you remember my name?"