by Megan Green
She shakes her head. “Not yet. We’re thinking next summer. They should be back just before Christmas. So we should have plenty of time to plan a summer wedding.” Her eyes gleam as she speaks.
Christmas. For the first time in my life, I can’t wait for Christmas. Ryan will be back the week before, and we’ve already planned to spend all of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day together. In his last letter, he told me when he was a kid on Christmas Eve they’d make cookies and then go drive around and look at all the lights on the houses. Then they’d go home and watch all those old stop motion animated Christmas shows until they fell asleep. Christmas Day was spent opening presents and eating all the delicious food his mom had prepared the day before. It all sounds wonderful and I can’t wait to experience it with him.
Emma snaps her fingers in front of my face a few times. My eyes snap back to hers, and she looks at me expectantly. I realize I completely zoned out thinking about Christmas, and now Emma is waiting for my response to something she obviously asked me.
“Um, what’d you say?”
She shakes her head at me. “Seriously? How in the hell are you going to be my maid of honor when you can’t stay focused for more than two seconds?”
I glance away, somewhat embarrassed by my inattention when her words register. “Wait, what?” I nearly shriek. “Did you say maid of honor?”
She grins at me and nods her head up and down vigorously. “Yes. Will you?”
I throw my arms around her. “Yes! Oh my god, are you serious? Of course I will.”
We continue to hug and bounce around a little until we start to draw attention to ourselves. Amanda makes her way over and asks what the hell is going on. When Emma tells her, a grin spreads across her face.
“That’s great news, guys. I’m so happy for you, Emma. And Haylee will be the best maid of honor ever. She never does anything half-assed.”
Emma gets to her feet and hugs Amanda. “Thanks. I’ll make sure she’s good and groomed for Justin’s and your wedding.” I expect Amanda to protest and make some smart-ass comment, but instead she smiles back at Emma.
“Good. I’ll need all the help I can get when that time comes. I don’t know the first thing about weddings.”
I smile up at my friends, so glad they’ve each found someone that makes them happy. I hear Emma ask Amanda to be a bridesmaid, and then the two of them are jumping up and down in each other’s arms. I zone out again.
The talk of weddings, children, mortgages, futures…it all used to make me anxious. Whenever someone tried to bring it up in the past, I’d do everything I could to change the subject. It wasn’t something I was comfortable talking about. It wasn’t something I thought I’d ever have. But looking up at my two friends, both so happy and in love, makes me realize that I want it. And for the first time in years, I finally feel like I have a chance.
A few hours later the party breaks up. Emma says goodbye to each of her friends, hugs and promises to meet up soon being exchanged by everyone. Amanda makes her way over to me, letting me know she’s going to spend the night at Justin’s and she’ll see me tomorrow. Soon, it’s just me and Emma left. I help her pick up some of the mess, but after a few minutes we both decide it can wait until morning. Emma asks me to stay the night, and we head to her room to change. She tosses me a pair of sleep shorts and a t-shirt. I quickly change in the bathroom and join her in the living room. She’s shoved all the garbage that was littering the coffee table onto the floor. All the leftover junk food is spread out before her. “Dig in,” she says, patting the couch next to her.
I’m stuffed from all the crap I ate earlier. But even still, I plop down next to her, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoveling it into my mouth. She turns on the TV, finding a marathon of the Michael Meyers movies. It still feels a little surreal to be doing something so normal. But I shove the thought away and focus on the movie.
We giggle and joke the whole time. What must’ve been scary at the time is almost a little comical nowadays. Emma is laughing at a woman running up the stairs to get away from the killer when a soft knock comes from her door.
She looks at me in confusion. “Who in the hell could that be? It’s after two.”
I hadn’t realized it was that late, and the night’s festivities immediately catch up to me. I stifle a yawn. “Probably some dumb kids. Trying to scare us.”
Emma gets up off the couch and makes her way to the door. She presses her eye to the peephole. “What the fuck?” she says before unlocking the door and pulling it open. She stands in the doorway, not saying a word to the person in front of her.
I crane my neck, trying to see who’s at the door. I still can’t see around Emma, and the silence starts to worry me. I get to my feet, walking over to the door.
When I get closer, I’m able to see a woman over Emma’s shoulder. I’ve seen her before, but I can’t remember where. She has short dark hair that looks like it hasn’t been brushed. Her eyes are red rimmed and she clutches her purse to her body desperately. She looks like she’s on the verge of a breakdown. I rack my brain, trying to think where I’ve seen this woman before.
Just then, a man steps in behind her and my stomach lurches. The man has dark hair as well. The lines on his face indicate the years he’s experienced, but other than that, he’s the spitting image of Chris. These are Chris’s parents. Why are they here at Emma’s apartment so late?
Chris’s father takes a step toward Emma. She’s still standing there, completely frozen in place. He places both hands on her shoulders, and I can see his fingers tighten their grip. Emma looks up at him, her lip quivering as she violently shakes her head.
“No,” she whispers, so quietly it’s barely audible over the TV playing in the background. Chris’s father pulls her against his chest.
“I’m so sorry, honey.”
Emma collapses against him and wails.
Four broken ribs.
A broken hand.
A concussion.
And a few second-degree burns.
Our fucking truck explodes around us, and that’s all I walk away with. Joey had to undergo surgery for his leg. They weren’t able to save it. The bones were completely crushed from his knee down. Sarge had so much internal bleeding, they still don’t know if he’s going to make it. His wife is being flown over right now. Scott took a massive blow to the back of his head. They said his death wasn’t instant, but it was pretty damn close. And Chris…fuck. He never even made it out of the truck. His fucking leg was pinned. The same one that had just taken a bullet.
And here I am with pretty much nothing but bumps and bruises. My ribs ache as the plane jostles me a little, but I grit my teeth and suffer through it. They tried to get me to stay in the hospital for a little longer. But there was no fucking way I was letting Chris come back alone.
The thought of him beneath the cabin, shoved down there like so much luggage, causes my breathing to hitch. I tried to convince them to let me ride down there, but they refused. When I protested, they threatened to not let me on the plane at all. I thought being here, even if I can’t be with him, would be better than nothing. But knowing he’s down there in a fucking box, while I’m sitting here in this cushy fucking seat and being offered anything I could possibly want by each and every fucking flight attendant, makes me feel like complete shit.
I’m not gonna say it should be me down there. It shouldn’t be any of us. Not me, not Chris, not Scott, not Joey. None of us deserved this. The fact that it is Chris—the funniest, kindest, most sincere person I’ve ever met—just makes it that much worse. I will go home. I’ll say goodbye to my best friend. I’ll let my body heal fully. And then I’ll go back. And I will make sure every single last one of those fuckers pays for what they’ve done.
The flight is both the longest and shortest of my life. I’m so anxious to get off this fucking plane I can’t stand it. But as soon as it touches down, nausea rises up in my stomach. I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready to face Carrie and Wi
ll. I’m not ready to see the looks on their faces as we bury their only son.
When they announce it’s time to de-board the plane, I wait. Everyone stands around me, barking instructions at their kids and jostling their way through the crowd of people. They’re all in such a hurry to get where they’re going. And all I want is to go back.
When everyone is gone, I finally stand. They’ve made arrangements to let me off on the tarmac. I wanted to be there when they remove the casket from the plane. I know Carrie and Will are going to be there too. I take a deep breath and head for the front. The bridge is gone and only a flight of stairs separates me and what is sure to be one of the worst moments of my life. I steel myself. The first step is the hardest, as they say. I put one foot down on the first stair and step out into the sunlight.
Immediately my eyes are drawn to Carrie and Will. When I see them, my knees start to give and I have to rush down the stairs before I collapse and fall down them. Carrie envelops me in a huge hug, her tears instantly soaking the neck of my shirt. Will puts his big arms around both of us. Carrie pulls back a little, bringing her hands to my face. She wipes away my tears, pulling my forehead down to her lips. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispers against my skin.
It isn’t until then I realize I was worried they’d blame me. That they’d hate me for living, while their son lies dead in a casket. Carrie’s words are like a shot to the heart. They’ve practically been my parents since I was eleven years old. Their obvious love and concern for me are overwhelming. I bury my head in Carrie’s hair and sob.
“I’m so sorry.”
She shushes me, and Will’s arms tighten. “It wasn’t your fault, son,” he murmurs. “You’ve always been like a brother to Chris. He loved you.”
I hear a strangled cry come from behind Will, and I raise my head. Emma is standing there, Haylee’s arms wrapped around her as she sobs. The sight of Haylee makes me breathless. I wasn’t expecting to see her today. Her eyes meet mine over Emma’s shoulder, and the obvious sadness there crushes me.
I pull away from Will and Carrie and step over to Emma. She moves out of Haylee’s arms and steps into mine. I hug her to me tightly. “I’m so sorry, Emma. He loved you more than anything in this world. I hope you know that.”
She sobs desperately against me. I hold on to her until she stops, unable to bring my eyes back up to Haylee. When Emma finally pulls away from me, I hand her the envelope Chris gave me months ago.
“He wanted me to give this to you, if something like this ever happened. I hoped I’d never have to. I never envisioned a scenario where Chris wouldn’t be coming home. And I’m so sorry to have to give this to you.”
She takes it from my hand, tucking it against her chest as she wipes her eyes with the other hand. I lead her over to Carrie and Will by the shoulders. Together, we watch while Chris’s casket is brought down from the belly of the plane.
The sight of the flag draped across it causes Carrie to gasp. Will wraps her in his arms and I hold on to Emma again, trying to keep her upright as the casket makes its descent. The Army sent out several men to handle it. We watch in silence while they march down the tarmac to the waiting hearse. They place the casket in the open back, saluting Chris as they step back.
The hearse’s engine starts and the little ceremony is over. The big one takes place in a few days. Carrie and Will give me one final hug, telling me to head over to their place tonight after I stop by Chris’s and my place. Well, I guess my place now. The thought that Chris will never again walk through that front door hits me hard. Home is suddenly the last place I want to go.
Emma walks off, sandwiched between Carrie and Will, leaving Haylee and me alone on the tarmac. I haven’t looked at her since that first glance. I haven’t been able to bring myself to.
She clears her throat behind me and I can sense her getting closer. I turn and look at her, stopping her in her tracks. Sorrow fills her expression. But also relief. I can see the gratitude in her eyes that I’m standing here in front of her. And I realize how close it was to not happening. If I’d been even six inches to the left, who knows what would’ve happened. I could’ve been the one in that coffin. And then Haylee would be the one left with only a letter. Except she wouldn’t even have that, because I wasn’t even smart enough to write one. When Chris handed me his, I’d rolled my eyes and told him he was stupid. There was no way we weren’t making it home. We had too much waiting for us.
I realize what a fucking fool I’ve been. Thinking that just because I’d found some happiness finally, the world wouldn’t be there waiting in the wings to take it all away. There was a reason I didn’t let myself get too close to anyone. I’ve seen firsthand what it could do. And now I’m going to witness it again, in the love of my best friend’s life. I won’t do this to Haylee. I won’t put her through what Emma is going through.
I lift my eyes to hers and she gives me a small smile. Something in my expression must tip her off. Her face falls and her eyes fill with confusion. I shake my head slightly, hoisting my bag up on my shoulder. I turn without saying a single word.
And I walk away from the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
I follow Ryan out of the airport and watch him get into a waiting taxi. I know he knows I’m following him, but he never once glances back at me. He silently makes his way through the throng of people, throws his bag into the back of a taxi, and disappears.
His weird reaction on the tarmac has me a little worried. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I saw him. I mean, his best friend did just die. Of course he’d be a little…off, right? But I can’t shake the feeling that the look he gave me was something more. Something that runs deeper than hurt and sadness over Chris’s death.
I make my way to my car and slide behind the wheel. He may be upset, but I’m not going to leave him to deal with it alone. He’s obviously having a hard time. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I just let him drive off and left it at that?
That’s how I justify it to myself anyway. I shift my car into drive and head toward the guys’ place. Sadness washes over me when I realize it’s not the guys’ place anymore. I press a little harder on the gas pedal, dodging in and out of traffic to catch up to the cab. I don’t want Ryan to have to be alone in the house.
When I finally catch sight of it, I breathe a sigh of relief. I change lanes and pull in behind it. All Ryan needs to do is turn around and he’ll see me following him. Hmm, maybe that isn’t such a good idea. After his reaction at the airport, that might cause him to tell the driver to keep going or take him somewhere else. And my stupid gas light is on. Why didn’t I stop earlier to get gas? Well, I’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t see me.
I drop back a little, taking the next exit when I reach it. It’s the longer route to Ryan’s house, but it’s all back roads that are barely traveled. If I ignore a few traffic laws, I should be able to beat him there. Hopefully today isn’t the day the cops finally decide to patrol that route. That’d be just my luck.
I race through town, barely pausing at stop signs and pushing what would probably be considered reckless driving. Thankfully, I turn onto Ryan’s street without seeing a single police car. I pull into his driveway and start to get out of the car when my earlier thoughts return.
What if he sees my car and tells the driver to keep going? Would he really pass by his own house to avoid talking to me? And what the fuck is going on to make these thoughts even go through my head? I need to talk to him. We need to make this right.
I back my car out of the driveway and park it around the corner. He’ll be coming from the opposite direction. He shouldn’t see it. I jog back to his house and sit in one of the chairs on the front porch. Within just a few seconds, I see a yellow taxi coming down the street. Jesus, that was close. I slink down in the chair, confident that the shadows from the overhang will hide my presence.
The car pulls to a stop at the curb. I watch him exit the back and toss some money to the driver through the win
dow. He stands in the driveway, staring at the house with an unreadable expression as the cab pulls away. He doesn’t move. Minutes pass by. I’m about to move from the chair and go to him when I hear a voice.
“Ryan,” an elderly man calls out from the yard next door. I’ve seen the man out there several times when I’ve visited Ryan. His flowerbeds are gorgeous and he seems to always be out there tending to them. As he approaches Ryan, I wish I’d taken the time to talk to him. Find out his name, at least.
Ryan looks to the man and back down at his feet. Now that’s an expression I can read. He doesn’t want to talk to this man right now. When the man reaches him and places a hand on his shoulder, I hear him say, “I heard about Chris. I’m so sorry. He was a good kid.”
Ryan nods, still looking at his feet. “Thank you, Mr. Lemon.”
Mr. Lemon starts speaking again, this time in a voice so hushed I can’t make out the words. But I can make out Ryan’s response, even if the man can’t. He traces circles on the driveway with his toes, his hands stuffed firmly in his pockets. He nods briefly every few seconds as the man continues. My heart breaks for him just watching it.
I stand up from the chair and call out, “Ryan, why don’t you come inside? I’ve got dinner going for you.”
His head jolts up at the sound of my voice, confusion clouding his expression. Luckily, Mr. Lemon’s attention also swung to me so he doesn’t see Ryan’s reaction.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company. I’ll let you go,” Mr. Lemon says, patting Ryan on the shoulder. “You let me know if you guys need anything, okay?”
Ryan quickly recovers from his shock and nods. “Thank you, Mr. Lemon.” He grabs his bag off the asphalt and heads toward me. When he walks up the few stairs to where I’m standing, I see Mr. Lemon still standing there, watching us. I step toward Ryan, muttering, “he’s watching,” under my breath as I lean up and kiss him on the cheek.
