by Megan Green
I drive aimlessly through town, swinging through the side streets and passing places that remind me of Chris. My determination slips a little, and I think that maybe this isn’t such a good idea. When my route takes me past Gordon’s, I know this is a bad idea. Now my thoughts are not only filled with Chris, but also with Haylee. I pull into a parking spot up the street and head into the coffee shop there.
I spend the next thirty minutes people-watching. I see all types of different people coming and going. Hurried business men, frazzled mothers, diligent students, irritating teenagers. I spot several of them looking curiously at my cast. I’ll admit, it’s definitely eye-catching. It’s wrapped up so big it looks more like a club than a hand. I bet I could do some serious damage with it. If only that prick from the zoo would walk through the door. I’d gladly demonstrate how destructive a bunch of plaster can be.
I laugh silently to myself at the thought, envisioning the terrified look on his face. I think of how Haylee would surely plead with me to stop, regardless of how much the jackass deserved it.
My face falls. No matter how hard I try, I can’t keep my thoughts from eventually turning to her. This is turning out to be even more torturous than I originally thought. I find myself having to constantly remind myself that this is for her. I have to do this for her sake. I can handle a little pain. Haylee has had too much. I refuse to allow her to experience any more on my behalf.
I check the time on my phone, seeing that it’s close enough to start heading over to base. If I drive slowly, I’ll only be about fifteen minutes early. And if I’m lucky, maybe he’ll be able to see me right away.
I walk into the general’s office thirty minutes later. The secretary tells me to have a seat and she’ll let him know I’m here. And my prayers are answered, because not even two minutes later, the general steps out of his office and ushers me inside.
He shakes my good hand, giving a sympathetic look to my other. “Sorry to hear about your hand. I hope it’s not too painful?” The last part comes out more like a question than a statement, so I shake my head.
“No, sir, it’s not too bad,” I say, not adding they’ve got me on some pretty heavy pain killers. He’d probably admonish me for driving over here. But I feel fine. No reason to cause unnecessary problems. Besides, if he’s really interested, he can find that out from my file.
He nods. “Good.” He gestures for me to take a seat and moves around his desk to sit behind it. He glances down at the papers on his desk, shuffling through them until he finds what he’s looking for.
“I was very sorry to hear about what happened. Corporals Daniels and Rhodes were good men.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. I don’t speak. I don’t trust my voice enough to say anything.
He continues. “You’ll be glad to know that Corporal Roberts will be coming home next week. And Sergeant Wells should be following soon after, we hope. He’s out of critical condition and they’re saying he should make a full recovery. It’s just a matter of him being able to travel all that way with as little pain as possible.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, so glad to hear they’re both going to be okay. It’s one spot of good news in the disaster of the last week. I feel the smile break out on my face, the first genuine smile since the explosion.
“That’s great news, sir.”
He nods again. “Yes, yes it is.” He shuffles the papers around again, not looking at me. Something in the manner of his movements makes me think he’s stalling. I remain quiet, hoping he’ll break the silence soon.
And sure enough, he finally drops the papers and meets my eyes. “The reason I called you in today is to let you know you are being honorably discharged. You, Roberts, and Sergeant Wells. We appreciate the work you’ve done for the U.S. Army. You’ll each also be awarded the Purple Heart for your injuries sustained in combat. It’s an incredible honor. There will be a formal ceremony once the others return.”
He looks at me with gratitude in his eyes, but I don’t want to hear the words he’s saying.
“But I don’t want it,” I say quickly. Then I remember myself. “Excuse me, sir. What I meant was I’m not ready to be discharged. I intend to get better. And I intend to return to Afghanistan, sir.”
He gives me a sad look. “I’m afraid it’s not an option right now, son.” I hate hearing the term of endearment come out of his mouth. It feels almost patronizing. He gestures to my cast. “That hand is messed up. It’s going to take months and months of therapy once it’s healed to get it functioning normally again. And even then, the doctors say it might not be one hundred percent. If it is, and your feelings are still the same, we would be proud to have you re-enlist. But for now, this is the path we’re going to have to take.”
I make sure my face is devoid of all emotion, but inside I’m fuming. They can’t do this to me. I need to go back. Those sons of bitches need to pay for what they’ve done.
I know if I voice those thoughts out loud though, all it’ll buy me is a one-way ticket to the shrink. So instead, I thank him quietly, shaking his hand once more before I turn and leave.
Unsure of what to do with myself now, I sit in my car in the parking lot and stare off into space. I don’t want to go back home. I can’t go anywhere in town because everywhere reminds me of Chris or Haylee. I rest my head on the steering wheel, wondering where I go from here.
Not even two months ago, I was on top of the world. I had a job I loved. The best friend in the world. The love of the most amazing woman on Earth. And now I have nothing. Nothing but a broken heart and a busted hand.
My phone chimes next to me and I glance at it, both hoping and dreading that it’s another text from Haylee. When I glance at the screen, it’s Emma’s name that comes up.
EMMA: Will you call me when you have a minute?
I immediately press the call button, wondering what she could possibly need from me. She answers on the first ring.
“Wow, that was fast.”
“Yeah, don’t really have a lot to do. What’s up?”
“I have something to tell you. But I hate to do it over the phone. Can you come over?”
“On my way,” I say before ending the call. I’m grateful for the distraction. I make my way quickly to her place. When I knock on the door, I’m momentarily taken aback when she appears behind it.
Emma is always very particular about her appearance. She’s the type of girl who likes to have her hair done and makeup on before even leaving the house. Her clothes are always orderly and she always has a smile on her face.
The Emma that answers the door is different. Dark circles ring her eyes and her hair is pulled back haphazardly from her face. She’s in sweats that are two sizes too big, and she doesn’t have a stitch of makeup on. Still, she tries to muster a small smile when she sees me.
The sight of her only reaffirms my decision to let Haylee go. Emma is a strong, independent woman. Not that Haylee isn’t, but she’s more fragile. Very understandable after what she’s been through. But if losing Chris has changed Emma this much, I don’t even want to think about how Haylee would react to losing the man she loves.
Emma gestures for me to come in and takes a seat on the couch. I sit down next to her, taking her hand in mine. “How are you?” I ask dumbly.
“Fine,” she replies with a small shrug. “I miss him, but it’ll get easier with time.”
I look at her. “You can cut the bullshit with me. How are you really?”
Her bottom lip quivers and she sighs deeply. “I miss him so fucking much, Ryan. And there are days when I just hate the whole fucking world. I hate every couple I see who gets to continue living their lives together when my future was ripped so violently from me. I hate you for coming home when he didn’t. I hate God for taking him from me. And sometimes I even hate him for leaving me here to deal with this alone.”
Her words bring tears to my eyes and I desperately want to hug her, to offer her some small token of my sorrow. But after her c
onfession, I don’t dare touch her. So instead, I just listen.
“But do you know what I hate most of all?” she asks, looking me square in the eye. I shake my head. “I hate that even knowing this outcome, I wouldn’t change one single second of my time spent with him. Because those months with him, those few precious months we spent together, mean more to me than anything. So yes, even knowing the pain and suffering I’m feeling right now, I wouldn’t change a thing. I would do it all over again. Because he was worth it.”
I look down at the carpet, wondering why she’s telling me this. She places her hand on my shoulder, forcing my attention back to her. I see the knowing look in her eyes, and suddenly, she looks more like the old Emma.
“I’m not an idiot, Ryan. I know what you’re doing with Haylee. I know why you’re pushing her away. And I’m telling you that you are an idiot. You’re an idiot if you let her get away. That girl loves you. And she’s stronger than you’re giving her credit for. I can promise you that if you ask her, her response will be no different from mine.”
“But look at you,” I say, gesturing to her. Her eyes sharpen and I realize my mistake. “I mean, you’re clearly miserable. How can I put Haylee through something like that?”
And once again, the familiar Emma sparks to life. “Who in the fuck do you think you are, Ryan?” she practically spits at me. “You think you’re just the world’s most perfect man and losing you would be sure to destroy anybody? Well, I’ve got news for you. You aren’t. You aren’t, Chris wasn’t, and neither was your dad. Because there is no such thing as perfect.
“Yes, your mom broke down after your dad died. I hate to say it, but that’s on her. She obviously had some deep-seated issues that came to light after his death. Things I’m sure your dad probably knew about but they kept hidden from you boys. Without him there, she wasn’t able to keep them under wraps. I didn’t know your mom, but that is not a mentally healthy person’s way of reacting. There was definitely more there than what you know.”
Her words ring through my ears, actually making a lot of sense. Memories surface of my mother and father whispering in hushed tones, making sure to turn on a smile anytime one of us got near. My dad always admitted to wanting to fix things. Maybe my mom was just one more thing for him to fix. And when he died, she finally broke beyond repair.
I look at Emma, unable to put my thoughts into words. She gives me another pointed look.
“And for the record, I am allowed to grieve for my dead fiancé. I can wear sweatpants and not put on makeup and not shower if I damn well feel like it. Because I’m sad. Because I’m mourning the love of my life. But this,” she says, gesturing to herself, “is not forever. I will always love Chris. And he’ll always be a part of me. But I’m only twenty-two years old. I still have a lot of life ahead of me. And because of Chris and what he taught me, I now know what I deserve out of life. And I won’t rest until I find it again.”
I smile at her, finally hugging her to me. She hugs me back, all traces of anger gone. When she pulls back, she gives me an impatient look.
“Haylee is just as strong as I am. No, she’s stronger. She’s endured a hell of a lot more than she should have to at her age, but the fact that she’s able to live a normal life speaks volumes. She’s stronger than she gives herself credit for. And you helped her begin to see that. But now, you’re taking it all away. She doesn’t need you to go on. But I know damn well that she wants you. And she deserves to finally have something she wants.”
I let her words sink in. My mother may have had deep-seated issues, but I have deep-seated fears because of those issues. It’s hard for me to just forget all that and pick up where we left off.
Emma is apparently done with me, because she stands and walks over to the counter. Grabbing something there, she heads over to the door and opens it. I take that as my cue to leave. She hands me the object in her hand as I pass by. It’s a folded piece of paper. I look at her quizzically. It looks like a letter.
“Yep, it’s what you think it is. Chris was smarter than he looked, I’ll give him that.” She laughs lightly, the smile reaching her eyes. It’s then I realize she meant every word she said. She may be sad. She may be angry. But she will be okay.
“It was in the letter he gave me. Told me to give it to you. That it’d be just what you needed to hear from him. And he’s right. Of course I read it,” she adds nonchalantly. “It was in my letter. I figured it was my business too.”
I give a small laugh. She reaches out and squeezes my arm briefly before closing the door behind me. I walk somberly out to my car, unsure what Chris’s final words to me will be. When I slide in the driver’s seat, I decide to just get it over with. No use driving myself crazy with speculation.
I unfold the sheet with shaky hands. Chris’s familiar handwriting greets me. And I can’t help but laugh at his message.
That’s it. Just two small lines. But he’s right. They’re exactly what I needed to hear.
Ryan hasn’t responded to a single one of my texts. It’s been three days since I saw him. I told myself at the beginning that it would probably take a while for him to come around. But it still hurts. I miss him so much.
Chris’s funeral is today and I’m not sure if I should go. He was my friend, but he was Ryan’s best friend. Is it fair of me to go when I know how much he doesn’t want to see me?
After a few minutes of debate, I tell myself I’m being ridiculous. Ryan will just have to get the hell over it. Chris was my friend. And Emma is one of my best friends. I have to be there for her, if nothing else.
I curl my hair carefully and put on my nicest black dress. Small hoop earrings are the only jewelry I wear. I want to look nice, but I don’t want to look like I’m trying to get Ryan’s attention. This is his best friend’s funeral. No matter how much I miss him, I would never stoop that low.
I ride with Amanda and Justin over to the church where the funeral is set to take place. The entire block is filled with cars. We end up having to park quite a ways away. Emma stands inside the front doors with Chris’s parents, greeting everybody. She has a brave face on, but I know she’s desperate to get out of here.
She brightens slightly when she sees us. “Hey,” she says, throwing her arms around me. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
I step to the side of her and linger there for support as she continues to greet people and accept their condolences. Amanda and Justin go to find a seat, telling me they’ll save one for me.
I’m amazed at the amount of people here. It seems like the entire town turned out. But then again, that shouldn’t surprise me. Chris had that effect on people. You just couldn’t help but love him.
I feel slightly awkward standing here, but I can tell Emma appreciates it. She keeps sneaking little grateful glances back at me between greeting people. That alone is worth any strange looks I’m getting from strangers.
I smile and wave when I see Gordon and Earl step inside. I wasn’t expecting them either. Earl mentions how much he’s going to miss their karaoke nights and pulls Emma into a hug. Gordon introduces himself to Chris’s parents. They don’t look at all shocked that a couple of old bartenders are attending their son’s funeral. Like I said, everybody loved Chris. They must be used to his assortment of friends.
The church is packed with people and it’s standing room only in the back. When it’s time for the services to start, we make our way to our own seats. I quickly find Amanda and Justin, taking the seat they’ve saved for me. I watch Emma as she follows Chris’s parents to the front. Ryan stands up from the end of the pew and ushers them all past him. He puts his arm around Emma’s shoulders and gives her a gentle squeeze.
I knew he’d be here, but that doesn’t make seeing him any easier. I’m just glad he’s up there with Emma. She needs all the support she can get. And I’m assuming he does too. I’m glad they’re here for each other.
A priest gets up and offers the opening prayer. A few of Chris’s Army buddies follow, cracking a
few jokes and reminding everyone how funny Chris was. His mom speaks after them, tears drowning out parts of her speech, but she reflects on the joy her son brought to her life. She rejoins her husband and they cry softly together.
The priest then opens it up for anyone who’d like to make a few remarks. Several minutes pass by, the sounds of sniffling the only audible sound through the silence. Nobody speaks. Nobody moves to get up. The priest looks around. Seeing nobody preparing to move, he stands again and approaches the pulpit to offer the closing prayer. Just as he starts to speak, Ryan stands.
He walks slowly up the stairs, leaning close to the priest and whispering to him. The priest nods and gestures toward the microphone. He takes a seat as Ryan clears his throat.
“I, um. I wasn’t going to say anything today. As I’m sure you all know, Chris was my best friend. More than that. My brother. I loved him. And I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do without him. How I’m going to get through each day without him giving me shit.”
A quite gasp echoes through the church at his words. Ryan realizes his blunder and looks at the priest. “Sorry, Father,” he says quietly into the microphone.
The priest smiles and waves his hand. Ryan continues.
“When Chris walked into my life, my whole world changed. I was a lost little kid. And he found me. He helped me figure out where I was going. And he made sure I had that little extra push I needed along the way. Sometimes it wasn’t so much a little push as it was a giant shove, but the intent was still the same,” he adds with a smile.
A soft chuckle ripples through the crowd. I find myself smiling along with him. As much as it hurts to see him when he doesn’t want me, I’m so happy to see him smile. It helps my broken heart feel a thousand times better just knowing he’s okay.
