The Lonely Hearts 06 The Grunt 2

by Latrivia S. Nelson

  Brett wanted to turn down the card, but Courtney reached out and took it. “Thank you. We’ll call her this afternoon.”

  “Good. We need to show that you are doing everything to ensure a safe and healthy environment for your son,” Mr. Benson reiterated.

  Brett looked over at his wife. “Now I have PTSD?”

  “Yes, you have PTSD,” Courtney confirmed in a stern voice.

  “Also, you said that you completed the adoption process on Cameron making Courtney the legal parent before you left for Iraq?” Mr. Benson asked, going down his list.

  “Yes,” Brett answered.

  “I’ll need that documentation along with this long list of other items that my assistant will type out and email to you,” Mr. Benson said, eyes glued to the paper.

  Brett huffed. “Not a problem at all. All I have, at least for the next 27 days, is time.”

  Mr. Benson frowned as he looked over Brett’s statement. “Earlier you said that you actually spoke with a man the day before Amy boarded the plane to leave you. And this is the man you assume that she was going to leave you for? Do you remember his name?”

  Brett had avoided earlier saying that the mysterious man was black. It wasn’t exactly something that made a difference one way or another. And he didn’t want to give his lawyer the feeling that he was racist, which he wasn’t, but now the cat had to be let out of the bag. “Yes, it was Jermaine. I didn’t get a last name, but I did keep the number…just in case.” He reached into his pocket and pushed the number across the table. “Call the fucker if you want to. I don’t care. In fact,” Brett stopped and chuckled, “feel free to depose him. I would love for him to explain that to his superiors.”

  Mr. Benson chuckled. “Oh, we just might,” he said, picking up the number. He looked at the number and paused. Wiping his face with his thumb, he bucked his eyes. “Jermaine, you say?”

  “Yeah, I would never forget that name. He had a message that said, Hi, you’ve reached Jermaine. Leave a message, and I’ll hit you back as soon as I can…”

  “Peace,” Mr. Benson said, indicating that he knew the voice mail. He knew the man.

  Brett and Mr. Benson locked eyes in silent hysteria.

  “Why do I get the feeling that you know this guy?” Brett asked without blinking.

  “Small world,” Mr. Benson exhaled, pushing away from the desk. He stood up and walked over to the bookshelf on the far wall. Coming back, he set a silver frame on the table of a young man in uniform. “His name is Captain Jermaine Stanley Benson. He is stationed in Okinawa, has been for the last four years. Damn good officer. Sorry to say, not so good at choosing women.”

  Courtney put her hand over her mouth. What in the hell?

  “He’s my son,” Mr. Benson said, having a seat. His face was colored with disappointment. “I’m very sorry, Brett.”

  “Does this mean that there is a conflict of interest and we’ve done this all for nothing? Is it that kind of sorry?” Brett asked, feeling the heat begin to prickle the tips of his ears again.

  “No,” Mr. Benson said coolly. “This means we don’t have to dig around looking for your witness in another country, because we already know who he is.” His wide masculine jaw clenched wishing that he could get his hands on his son’s neck at the moment. “I’ll call him myself tonight and get any information that he has, you will have by tomorrow evening. You have my word on it.”

  Brett released a humorless laugh and wiped his hands over his head. “Do you believe this shit?” he asked, turning to Courtney.

  Courtney removed her shaking hand from her mouth and looked at Mr. Benson. “Did you know? Did my mother tell you?” But how could she? Courtney didn’t even know about that small detail. Brett had never told her the man’s name although he had told her about the incident.

  “I had no idea,” Mr. Benson said, completely off his game at the moment, and that hadn’t happened in 25 years.

  “Then it must be true,” Courtney said, taking her husband’s hand.

  “What’s that?” Brett asked, looking at her small elegant fingers. At the moment, he really just wanted to go. Get the hell out of there. The room was starting to cave in on him, and he couldn’t be responsible for his actions.

  “Everything happens for a reason,” Courtney said, reassuring the both of them. “We were meant to be here, and you were meant to work this case. Everything is going to be alright.”

  Brett’s eye twitched, but he knew that she was right. Some things went far beyond coincidence. Looking over at Mr. Benson, he smacked his lips. “Where’s the contract? I’m ready to sign.”

  Chapter 18

  “It takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, and a day to love them, but it takes an entire lifetime to forget them.” —Anonymous

  A closed casket meant that there would be no viewing of the body. Judy had chosen to forego the wake the night before, and the family had complied with her wishes. Since two Marines in dress blues had shown up at her home almost two weeks ago, no one had seen her outside of her immediate family as she had turned away all callers and visitors.

  Instead, she had asked that all money and gifts be sent to the Wounded Warrior Project in Joe’s name and that everyone who wanted to pay their respects do so at the funeral only. It was just like her to give everyone marching orders. That was what she had always been good at and what Joe had always chided her about.

  But Brett thought that he had a better relationship with Judy than that. He thought that she considered him to be immediate family and that sometime before the funeral; he would have been able to simply come over and give her a hug.

  But he had been wrong.

  Judy didn’t want to see anyone at all.

  Today, in full dress uniform, adorned in the many service medals he had earned over the years, he loaded in the car with his family and headed to Fayetteville, North Carolina, where Judy and Joe had grown up, first met, and married, for the funeral.

  Brett wanted to be at the church for the service earlier than everyone else. Not just to spend some time with Joe, but also to hopefully see Judy.

  Courtney tried to reason with him for the last two days about Judy’s state of mind and why she had felt the need to be so reclusive. Expressing all the things, a wife felt after a husband was suddenly plucked out of her life had helped him come to terms with his forced absence from the Mabry family, but he still needed closure. Today, he prayed that he’d get it.

  The drive had been a quiet one with the kids napping in the back for most of the trip, and Courtney quietly listening to her new book on tape, The Lover’s Ball. It wasn’t that she was so into the book. It was more to have something to keep her mind off of the funeral and what she needed to get by. And she thought, in her unselfish attempt, that the story might help Brett too.

  But Brett hadn’t paid attention to the story blasting in the speakers; instead, he was lost in his own tragic opera with five full acts of misery. He was drawn into the story of two best friends who had divulged every fear, hope, dream and disappointment with each other since the day they joined Recon, who had spent most major holidays together and been there at the birth of each other’s child, when they weren’t deployed. And those last moments together, in the hills of Afghanistan, when even then they had done everything to protect each other and keep each other safe, thinking that tomorrow they would see each other and dissect the entire mission over a beer and barbeque with their wives and kids only to ripped from each other too soon and their families destroyed—That had been the story that he was immersed in now.

  The ending was not what he had expected and no matter how badly he tried to tell himself that this was just war, and this was a part of it and no one was exempt, he felt an enormous cloud over his life. His best friend was gone and he was left with survivor’s remorse.

  How would he handle seeing the people who had entrusted him with Joe’s life? How could he explain how he had lived and Joe had not? How could he face J
udy?

  Even then, Joe’s bright smile crossed his mind. He could still hear his voice ringing in his ears. He remembered every single detail of their friendship. Joe never gave him a pass. He always told him what was right and what was wrong. He always pushed him to think and never let him, not even when he wanted to, put his family last.

  And now his most trusted confidant was waiting on him an hour away in a box.

  Brett pushed a breath out, trying hard not to fidget too much in the passenger seat, although it was nearly impossible to sit still.

  The suit was constricting, but it would not have mattered if he had worn jogging pants, nothing would have been comfortable, because it wasn’t his suit he wanted to get out of – it was his skin.

  As they passed the Welcome to Fayetteville sign on the brick wall just inside the city line, Brett felt the heat begin to singe his skin. Sweat formed on his forehead and he noticed that his vision began to blur. Great, another panic attack.

  Clearing his throat, he turned stoically toward Courtney, trying not to spaz out in front of her.

  “Can you pull the car over, please?” he asked in a monotone voice, holding on to the handle of the door.

  Courtney pulled herself from her story, now deep into the plot, and looked over at him. “Baby, are you alright?” she asked, brow furrowed.

  His voice was strained. “Pull the car over,” Brett said, eyes bloodshot red, his mouth beginning to water.

  She quickly pulled off the road onto the shoulder, and Brett let himself out. Forgetting his crutches, he threw his legs out the door and yanked himself out of the car in just time enough to throw up on the ground. It was a violent eruption that made his back spasm.

  “Mommy, is Daddy okay?” Cameron asked, stirring from his sleep to look out of the window at his father.

  “He’s fine, baby. His stomach is just upset.” Courtney popped the seatbelt and opened the door. Waiting on a car to pass, she closed the door and then made her way to the other side where Brett was bent over.

  “Oh, God,” she said, under her breath. She hadn’t realized how hard this was going to be for him until now. She wondered if he’d make it through this.

  Rubbing his back, she gently wiped his face with her other hand.

  “I’m okay,” he said, feeling the coolness of her skin against his own. He held her hand on his face for a moment, thankful again to have her but still utterly embarrassed by his episode.

  The way that he looked up at her, vulnerable and hurting, broke her heart. She wanted at that moment to pick him up and hold him, but she was just a little woman and he was so big. Bigger than life…only he didn’t even know it.

  Brett quickly regained his composure when he saw the rush of emotion over Courtney’s face. He had scared her. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t mean to do any of it. It was just hard these days to keep as cool as he wanted. Sometimes, like now, things bubble to the surface despite his most eager attempts.

  Courtney wasn’t quite sure what to say. She knelt beside him over his vomit in silence as cars zipped past them on the road, nearly blowing up her dress. Helping him up, when he was able to stand, she wiped off his uniform, catching a glimpse of a store in the distance. “We can stop at the gas station. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

  Brett nodded. That was probably best. “Thanks.”

  She almost said something to give him encouragement – almost - but she decided not to say another word on the matter. Sometimes, a man just needed to be left alone, or at least that was what her mother had told her about her father. This was one of those times she would use her mother’s advice. She could see it in Brett’s eyes. He didn’t need to open up right now and pour out all of his emotions the way that he had just released his breakfast. He needed to hold it down and make it through today without breaking.

  ***

  Only a few people were at Faith Tabernacle Church when Brett, Courtney and the children arrived, but they were all workers getting the Church ready for the larger crowd. Parking in a spot near the entrance of the Church a few spaces down from the hearse, Brett and Courtney quietly unloaded their family and made their way up the steps and through large white double doors.

  The large Church was completely empty inside except for the casket, draped in United States Flag, at the very front under a large cross draped in purple fabric.

  Courtney swallowed hard as she saw it. There was Joe, finally, back with Brett. The doors of the Church closed, echoing throughout the Sanctuary and somehow adding more weight to an already heavy situation.

  Brett locked eyes on his best friend’s casket and took off his cover. His eyes blinked fast. “I guess that’s him,” he said, clenching his jaw tight.

  Courtney looked down at Cameron and smiled. “Why don’t you help me with Bella? We’ll get a seat since no one is here yet.” She bounced the little girl on her hip, grateful that Bella was so quiet.

  “Why are we so early?” Cameron asked innocently. He looked around the Church in awe. He had never been to one so big.

  Brett rubbed Cameron’s mop of freshly cut curls and smiled at the boy. “Daddy wanted to have some time to say goodbye to his friend.”

  They walked slowly down the middle aisle carpeted with a purple stripe that led down past wooden pews to the pulpit. Brett never took his eyes off the casket. Slowly his made his way with his crutches until Courtney veered off to take a seat with the kids.

  He made the rest of the walk toward the casket alone.

  With every step, he could feel the tears streaming down his face. His breathing became more erratic, catching every once in a while in his dry throat. His vision was clouded by huge tears holding on to the ends of his long eyelashes but he continued his walk until he finally made it to his destination. He stood there in silence for a minute looking at the box like at any moment it would spring open and Joe would pop out and surprise him.

  But there would be no such joke today.

  Tight fisted, even with all the pain radiating throughout his body – most of it caused by the emotional anxiety he felt inside - when arrived at the casket, he dropped his crutches and stood up as straight as an arrow.

  Looking straight forward as if addressing an officer with a face of stone, Brett whispered, “It was my truest honor…to serve at your side.”

  Raising his right gloved-hand slowly from his side with careful precision, he saluted his friend.

  Courtney watched her husband with tears running down her face. Wiping them as they washed over her cheeks, she looked over at Cameron, who without explanation stood up from the pew and walked toward his father.

  “Cameron,” Courtney whispered.

  But Cameron did not turn around. His little footsteps were so light until Brett did not hear them, but when he looked down to his left side, there his son was, standing as straight as a little Marine with tears running down his red little cheeks. Mimicking his father, he stood stiff as a board and saluted Joe, just like his father.

  ***

  After a very emotional Church service, six white gloved hands grip the flag-draped casket with the bursting white stars over the left shoulder, bearing one of their own. With ramrod posture and synchronized steps, the Marine Corps Body Bearers ceremoniously carried Staff Sergeant Joe Mabry to his final resting place.

  Only a few steps back, Brett walked with tears in his eyes with his wife and children, recounting the service quietly. He had been a few pews back from Judy and the family during the entire ceremony, but she had not looked back once. Instead, she hung her head and dabbed her face with a handkerchief, sobbing quietly throughout the ceremony and staring at the box her husband had been laid to rest.

  Suddenly, Brett understood why she didn’t want to see anyone. While it was hitting him hard, it was hitting her so much harder. She looked thinner, gaunt even. When he caught a glimpse of her face, he saw dark circles under her eyes, more apparent since she had cried her makeup off. Her face had aged since he last saw her, probably aged in two we
eks, and she looked as though at any moment, she might just keel over.

  He felt bad for being so angry that she didn’t want to see him, but he knew that he would never tell her so. He’d never do anything in the world to make that woman any unhappier than she already was. Joe wouldn’t have liked that.

  However, Judy hadn’t been the only one tearful. Brett had not cried so much in his entire adult life – not for anything, not for any reason. When his mother passed, he was happy that she was done with her suffering. Cancer had nearly eaten her down to the bone. When Amy died, he shed a few tears but was consumed with pure rage. When he was nearly killed, he didn’t recall crying for himself, but he did cry at the thought of finally being home. But this was different.

  This was sorrow.

  He had nearly fainted as he stood before the congregation to give tribute to his friends. The bright lights glared down on him making him sweat. The Sanctuary was packed with people all focused on his every word, despite his hatred for being the center of attention. And at the start, despite his booming Texas baritone, his words had been soft, almost faint.

  “There are few men in this world that I consider to be my friends,” he said, looking out at Gavin, David and Jeffery.

  “But I was blessed to call Joe Mabry my friend. He was a great Marine and an even better father and husband. He showed me how to be a better man, because he was the better man.”

  The tears had nearly drowned him as he tried to smile. He could see Courtney, wiping her face, and nodding at him, encouraging him to continue.

  “What we do out there in this world for our country is personal. The medals are appreciated, but that’s not why we do it. We do it because we love our country, and we love our family and our way of life. And we’d do anything to protect it. Joe died protecting that ideal and there is no medal that will take away the pain of his sacrifice.”

  His head dropped.

  “For that, I am truly sorry. But we shouldn’t remember him as just a patriot. We shouldn’t remember him just as a fine Marine. We should remember him as a man who was always trying to be better for his men, for his family, for his country and for God. I think he will be welcomed in the Kingdom of Heaven. I think that the angels will rejoice in his arrival, and in that, in time we too can rejoice at having known him at all. But for now what gives me solace is the fact that he will be missed and remembered and immortalized by his actions and his legacy.”