by Lexi Wilson
We walked around the park and then sat and watched the ducks for a bit until Hannah ran out of bread and they abandoned us. We made our way to the playground and Hanna ran around with the other kids while Matthew and I watched.
“I guess this is my new normal,” I said to him as I looked around. “Being a single mom.”
He patted my hand. “No matter what happens next, you're going to be fine, Ev. You're a great mom and Hannah is lucky to have you.”
“Thanks, Matt.”
“And like I said before, I'm here for you. You can call on me for anything. That's what friends are for, right?”
“Right,” I agreed. We talked about the upcoming school year for a bit until Hannah spotted an ice cream vendor and rushed over to tell us.
“Can we get ice cream, please?” she begged.
“Okay,” I gave in easily. She called out with excitement and grabbed my hand, trying to pull me up from my spot. The three of us made our way over and got in line. Hannah talked about all the choices and went back and forth trying to decide right up until our turn. Once we had ordered, Matthew grabbed his wallet and paid.
“My treat,” he insisted.
“Thank you,” I said appreciatively, looping my arm through his and leaning my head against him. To an outsider, we must have looked like a picture-perfect family, but on the inside, my heart hurt for the family I had lost. I once thought this would be Brett and I for all of our days and now that had gone. I was not sure I was ready to go on with life, but for Hannah, I would be strong and take it one day at a time because that was all I could do.
Chapter 9
Brett
I landed in Syria and was met by Steven’s contact who escorted me to the US military base. I had been on several domestic bases over the years as a part of my job but only one time before overseas. This is the first time I had been embedded with our troops since 2009 when I went on my first assignment with CNN. I knew that this was an incredibly big deal and when we reached the base, security was heightened, and there was tension in the air.
I was taken into a tent with the commanding officer and given a debriefing on the unrest in the area that had spiked significantly in the past seventy-two hours. There had been heavy fire in recent days, and the conflict in the area had grown to its worst point for the time. I had shot the refugees here before, but I had never before been involved with photographing military operations to this scope and even just the glimpse I got on base in the first ten minutes was eye-opening.
I was surprised to learn that I would be getting started right out of the gate, and an hour and a half after I first arrived at the base in Rmeilan, and I was going out with a convoy. We headed on a search and rescue mission to a refugee camp that had been recently bombed, but it became clear as we reached our destination that there was little hope anyone would be found alive. The homes had been reduced to rubble, and small fires burned all around. I grabbed my camera from its bag and began to shoot. As I snapped picture after picture, I paused and really looked around at the devastation that surrounded me.
Entire homes were just gone, flattened, and the families that lived there had either fled or been left for dead. As I ventured further around the destruction, I stumbled upon a woman shielding a small child under her. They were both dead, and it hit me right in the gut. I began to cry, picturing Evie and Hannah in their place. I tried to shake the image from my mind and get back to my job, but it was an impossible thing to do, and I dropped to one knee to pray instead.
“You okay?” one of the soldiers stopped and placed a hand on my shoulder as I stood. The patch on his jacket identified him as Watts.
“Yeah, yeah, it just hit me I guess,” I replied, gesturing towards the mother and child. He looked in their direction and bowed his head.
“You have kids?” he asked.
“A daughter; she’s six.”
“My twin girls are four, and my son is eight. My wife, she’s the brave one if you ask me, home alone with the three kids to raise when I’m deployed. It’s a struggle, and seeing things like this don’t make it any easier.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
Watts crossed himself and said a silent prayer and instinct had me raising my camera. He didn't notice me doing so and I followed him as he continued on with the task at hand.
As the soldiers sifted through debris, I photographed them work, in between asking them how long they’d been stationed here and just generally trying to get a read on them. I wasn’t sure how long I would be embedded with them, but I knew capturing their story was just as important as capturing what was going on in Syria. I wanted to bond with these men and women to find some common ground amidst all of the sadness.
“How long have you been over here?” I asked Watts.
“Four months,” he answered.
“That must be hard, missing out on your family.”
“This is one of my shortest deployments, to tell the truth. I head home in another couple weeks.”
“How many deployments have you been on?”
“Three in the last eight years.”
“Wow.”
He nodded. “It's a part of the job, you know? Sometimes I wish I am at home with them though. My wife, she understands why I do this, and she appreciates my service, but still, I've missed out on things I can't get back. It's a sacrifice, and it's a balancing act. When I'm home, I try to be there for dinner every night and every school play and dance recital. I don’t want to miss a minute of it because I miss too much when I’m gone as it is.”
His words had hit me like a punch to the gut. When I was at home, I was thinking about my next assignment. I had spent hours on my work in my office and worked straight through dinner before. Hannah was not in dance, but she had started taking hockey lessons and skated on a mite’s team. She had had a few games during the times I had been home, yet I had never been to one of them. But Evie had. She was a devoted mother who not only took Hannah everywhere she needed to be, but also maintained a full-time job, kept the house in running order, and cooked.
When I was at home, I might contribute to the cooking every now and again but otherwise, it was all Evie. I had always been too busy with work to help out.
For the first time, I started to see things the way Evie did, and I was ashamed of myself for not looking at things from her perspective. We were both at fault for a lot of things in the downfall of our marriage, and I could now see my part clearly.
I followed Watts blindly as we packed up and headed to another village. I had become lost in my thoughts and barely registered the scenery as we drove until we reached our next destination. This one is even more devastated than the first. Fires were still burning uncontrolled, and there was gunfire in the distance.
I could tell from the way the soldiers moved with their weapons readied that they were on a much higher level of alert than the first village we were at. They moved in tandem, and their eyes scanned the horizon. When they felt that the scene was safe, they broke off to check for survivors.
I got my bearings about me and tried to push the thoughts of my family to the back of my mind, but still, they lingered. I began to take pictures again of the village and found myself struck by the remnants of a house that appeared to have a cross rising out of the ashes. I snapped a few photos, and as I lowered the lens from my face, I heard a commotion ring out.
There was shouting, both in English and Arabic, and chaos and I was shoved to the ground. My camera was snatched from my hands, and I yelled out, but a gun pointed at my face had me backing down. I heard the distinct pop pop pop of gunfire close behind me, and I cowered. My heart was racing, and for the first time in my career, I truly feared for my life.
Flashes of my life passed before my eyes as we were rounded up, pushed and shoved by the men that talked around us in a language I did not know. Seeing all of those homes that had been bombed, families left for dead, discarded as if they were waste, made me realize how little these people valued the lives of others
, and how much my own family meant to me, and how I had not shown it well these last several years.
Along with the others, we were blindfolded and put in a van and driven away. I had been in Syria for less than three hours, and I had just been captured by enemy forces. I knew how journalists typically fared in these situations and I was certain that this was it for me. My heart plummeted, and I began to think the worse. When was the last time I updated my will? Will I ever see my family again? I was scared and had no idea what would happen to me next.
If I ever got home, I silently promised to Hannah to be a better father, and to Evie, I would prove my worth and win her back. Those girls were my heart and getting home to them was all I wanted.
An incredibly bright light blinded me, and I covered my face to protect my eyes. There were voices, but they did not register until I heard my name. I looked up to find Watts, the soldier from my first day in Syria, looking down at me.
“You ready to go home?” he asked, offering me a hand.
He helped me to my feet, and I struggled to stand, but he held me up. “Home?”
“Home,” he repeated. “You’re going home.”
I was helped from the dark ten-by-ten cell that had been my home and led outside for the first time in nearly five months. I blinked at the light as my eyes adjusted and I was loaded into a military ambulance and taken to a hospital. There I was looked over, my bloodwork checked, and admitted to the hospital for a week to regain my strength. I spoke to my parents on the phone and plans for my return to the states were made. When the day finally came, I flew to Boston and was greeted by a swarm of press.
I, along with the unit I was with, was captured by ISIL. A few of the team members were able to escape, including Watts, and they never gave up looking for us. As a prisoner, I was tortured for information, but they realized quickly that I did not have much value, so I was left in my cell. I never knew when my next meal might be, so I learned to ration what I was given. I went to the bathroom in a hole in the ground, and I hadn't showered or shaved until I was taken to the hospital.
After months of back and forth, the US government was able to work a leak and found out our location and sent troops to extricate us. Watts insisted he be a part of the mission and he accompanied me on the flight home, helping me navigate past the press shouting out questions. I was not ready to talk about what I had gone through yet, and really just wanted to get home to my family.
My parents had retrieved my car from the airport and were waiting for me when I landed in Boston. There were hugs and tears, and I was so thankful to see them but truthfully, I really just wanted to see my daughter and Evie. I had not spoken to her yet, but I hoped she knew that I was home and that I could see them soon.
On the drive to Connecticut, my parents tried to fill me in on everything that I had missed, but I could tell they were also avoiding mentioning Evie to me. My heart longed to see her, and I desperately wished she had been there to pick me up instead of my parents. I wished I was returning home to her instead of going to my parents and staying with them and living in my old bedroom. I knew I had to live with this for now, but soon, soon I would do everything in my power to prove myself to her. I loved Evie. Always had, always would. Now I just needed her to know it.
Chapter 10
Evie
When Brett was captured in Syria, it was my greatest fear come to life. Despite our divorce, I was in near hysterics upon hearing the news from his boss, Steven. Of course, he didn’t know that Brett and I had separated, leaving me to tell his parents as well. That moment was gut-wrenching, but the worst was telling Hannah. I had no idea how to tell her that her daddy had been captured and we didn’t know if he would ever come home. In the end, I simply told her that her father was going to be away longer than we thought and that he was doing good things, but he wouldn’t be able to contact us but that as soon as he could, he would. She cried, wailing for her daddy to come home, and by heart just broke.
I grieved for Brett and cried at night for the first several weeks, always praying for his safety and return to us. I was an emotional wreck, and my moods were all over, and on top of all of that, I became sick and felt more tired than usual.
One afternoon, a month after Brett’s capture, Hannah was with her grandparents and Matthew came over to visit with me. I was still feeling under the weather, and he brought his mom’s chicken noodle soup to help me feel better. As I heated the soup on the stove, Matthew sat at the table. I heard rustling from a plastic bag, and when I turned around, I was shocked at what he had laid out on the table.
“What is that?”
“You know what these are,” he replied simply.
“But why do you have them?”
“Because I believe you are with child, my dear.”
“No.”
“Yes. You’ve been tired and sick for two weeks now, Ev. And I might be gay, but even I’ve noticed that your breasts are larger.”
I looked down at my chest. They had been tender recently as well, but I didn't tell Matthew that. “I’m not pregnant. I haven’t been with anyone.”
“Except Brett. When was your last period?”
I thought back, and I felt my heart begin to race. It had been six weeks since my last period I realized.
“I’m going to assume based on how big your eyes just got that you did the math in your head.”
“Oh my gosh,” I whispered.
Matthew smiled softly and stood, coming over to hug me. When he let go, he grabbed one of the tests from the table and handed it to me. “No time like the present to find out for sure.”
Ten minutes later we were staring at three little sticks all with the same result.
I was pregnant. With my prisoner-of-war ex-husband’s child.
When I received the news that Brett had been found alive and had been rescued by US forces and was in the hospital recovering, I was hit with a jumbled mess of emotions. They were already all over the place during this pregnancy, but they had been made worse knowing Brett would be home soon and I would have to explain my current situation.
Ever since we found out Brett was safe and coming home, my parents had been pushing me to tell him, but I didn’t know if I could find the strength within me to do so. I was still so hurt that he left us to work when he said he wanted to fix us and with him being captured for more than four months, I had had nothing but time to consider the worst and I didn't know that I could put myself through this life with him. I could not live constantly wondering if he would come home to me. I just couldn't.
I had been hiding my pregnancy since I found out but now that I was five months along, it was becoming harder to hide. Only Matthew and my parents knew that I was expecting, and I dreaded the faculty at school finding out. The teachers were a nosey, gossipy bunch and I knew there were already whispers about me. Some already suspected my truth but I just had not confirmed them. It was my business, and I was not ready for everyone else to be up in it.
My pregnancy with Hannah had been so easy, and this one was the complete opposite. I had had near constant morning sickness that had continued even as I was no longer in the first trimester. My moods were all over the place. One minute I was happy, the next I was crying, and then the next I was angry at the world. As a result of my moodiness, my normally happy-go-lucky daughter had also become equally emotional along with me. Trust me when I say it had not been an easy or fun pregnancy.
The only bright spot throughout Brett’s capture and my pregnancy had been Matthew. I could not have asked for a better friend. He had taken care of Hannah and me like his own family. He would often hang out with us and cook, and he had been great at keeping Hannah’s mind off her dad being missing. He hadn't said anything about me seeing Brett when he came home, which was nice since my parents were basically shaming me to see him. They knew he was due back in town any day and they wanted me to see him immediately upon his return. Instead, I convinced them to take Hannah to see him, so I did not yet have to face him.
It was early evening on a Friday night, and Hannah was playing in her room, and I was expecting Matthew any moment. At home, I didn't take nearly the same pains to hide my pregnancy as I did when I was outside of the house, so I was in leggings and a long-sleeved shirt and slippers when the doorbell rang. I made way for the door with a smile.
“I was expecting you twenty minutes—” The words died on my lips as I stared up at Brett, not Matthew.
I was shocked to see him on my doorstep. He was thinner than the last time I saw him, his hair was longer, and he had a beard. His eyes still pierced my soul though.
“Brett,” I managed to breathe out.
“Hey, Evie,” he said quietly. His voice was the same as I remembered, and I held onto the door frame for support.
“What are you doing here?”
He took me in, and his gaze lingered on my stomach. I saw him swallow and I flushed. This was not how I wanted him to find out. He blinked several times as if to clear his mind before looking up at me. “I wanted to see Hannah,” he finally said.
I nodded. “Hang on a minute; I’ll go get her,” I said, indicating for him to wait on the porch. Before I could close the door though, Hannah came bounding down the stairs.
“Is that Matty?” she demanded to know. “Mattie, I want to tell you about my day,” she started before reaching us and skidding to a stop. Her eyes fell on Brett, and she stared at him before letting out a high pitch scream and tears began to fall down her cheeks. “Daddy! Daddy! You’re home!” she shouted as she ran at him, jumping into his arms.
Brett squeezed her tightly to him and peppered her little face with kisses, and I saw that he was crying as well. Of course, my hormones took over, and I started crying also.
