I notice Dad staring at Ethan every now and then, sizing him up now that he’s potential husband material. It makes me smile. True, my confession may have been a little premature, but I’ve known since the day Ethan returned that we were meant to be—it was fated in the stars.
During a commercial, Dad asks out of the blue, “So, Ethan, what are your plans for the future?”
I shake my head, knowing exactly what he’s up to.
Poor Ethan…he has no clue I plan to marry him.
“Well, sir, I aim to design custom motorcycles.”
“You think there’s any money in that?”
Ethan turns to face him and answers, “I hope I can make a living at it but, until I can, I’ll work in a garage to make ends meet.”
“So, no plans for college?”
“No, sir. I’ve been told I have talent as a mechanic and don’t see the point in spending four years in college when I could be getting real world experience while making money at the same time.”
Dad nods his head thoughtfully. “And if Cleopatra decides to go to a traditional college after community college?”
Ethan glances at me with a look of pride. “I’d support whatever she wants, because Cleo will be a success at whatever she does.”
“What if it means leaving this place?” my dad prods.
Ethan meets his gaze with confidence. “I’ve already thought of that, sir. I’ve got an apprenticeship lined up but, after I’m done there, I’ll be able to follow her wherever her career takes her. Mechanic jobs are easy to find. It won’t be a problem.”
I blush, both surprised and pleased to hear he has planned that far ahead.
Dad glances at the bedroom door. “Now, be truthful with me, son. The fact that C’s mother goes through periods like this doesn’t concern you?”
Ethan meets his gaze when he answers, “I can see how devoted you are to her.”
“Would you be equally devoted to my daughter?”
My stomach twists into a knot. Is my dad trying to compare me to my mother and ruin any chances I have with Ethan?
Ethan looks at me, his expression now serious. “I know Cleo is her own person, with her own set of flaws and weaknesses. Whatever they are, we’ll face them together.”
I’m deeply touched by his answer and left speechless as I fight back the tears.
When I have regained control, I turn to my dad. “Enough with the questions, Dad.” Standing up, I announce to them both, “This girl is in the mood for some ice cream at Handel’s.”
“They do make a mean mint chocolate chip,” my dad agrees.
“You want to walk there or drive?” Ethan asks, getting up and pulling his car keys out of his pocket.
“Let’s walk,” I tell him, wanting time alone to talk, afraid my dad’s little interrogation might have totally freaked him out.
Ethan stuffs the keys back into his pocket and takes my hand instead. “We’ll make a date of it.”
Oh my, do I blush! Is it even possible to fall more in love with the guy?
As we head out the door, Ethan calls back to my dad, “Don’t worry, Mr. Cox. I’ll pick you up a pint of that mint while we’re there.”
“Thanks, kid.”
After the door closes, I look at Ethan in concern. “I’m so sorry about that. I apologize for Dad hammering all those questions at you.”
He shrugs. “I kind of liked it because it means he sees me in your future.”
I press myself against him and smile so hard my cheeks hurt.
As the two of us walk down the sidewalk, I’m filled with a profound sense of well-being. Everything seems right with the world, and I just want to shout my happiness to the world—but that would be weird.
Ethan leans over and presses the button for the crosswalk while we watch all the cars speeding by. As we wait, he casually puts his arm around my waist, and it makes my stomach flutter. We feel so good together, as if we’ve been a serious couple for years.
“I love you,” I blurt, too happy to keep it inside.
He leans down, giving me a quick peck on the lips just as the light changes. “I love you too, Candy.” Grasping my hand tightly, the two of us walk across the street together.
I secretly hope all the people watching from the cars can tell just how in love we are.
I turn my head when I hear a strange, high-pitched screech and freeze when I see a huge pickup truck barreling down on us, sparks and flames spewing from its sides. Before I can even react, Ethan pushes me forcefully out of the way.
I fly out of the path of the oncoming truck and almost get knocked out when my head crashes into the pavement. I lie there momentarily, confused by the horrifying sound of crunching metal and breaking glass that fills the air.
I force my head to turn, blinking several times in disbelief as I watch a flaming wheel roll by me in slow motion.
Ethan…
I fight to get up, but as soon as I try to sit up, everything goes black.
As if in a dream, I hear frantic voices and feel myself being lifted up. I force my eyes open and cry out for Ethan.
“You’re going to be okay,” an EMT tells me in a comforting tone as I’m rolled on a gurney toward an ambulance.
“Ethan…” I cry out again hoarsely. My mouth is dry and my tongue swollen.
I look around desperately, hoping to catch sight of him.
My world ends the moment I spot the limp body on the other side of the street—covered in a white sheet.
Ethan…
I can’t feel him.
I lie here in the dark, the pain so terrible, I can’t breathe.
Tears run down my face, but I am numb, body and soul. I feel his loss like a physical wound—bloody and gaping.
As if from a great distance, I hear my dad’s voice. “C, I need you to eat something.”
A warm spoon presses against my lips, but I have no will to open them.
“Please, you need to eat.”
After several failed attempts, I hear him get up and leave my bedroom.
I rock myself afterward, haunted by the knowledge that Ethan sacrificed himself to save me. If I hadn’t insisted on walking that day, he’d still be alive.
I killed you…
I writhe in pain with that knowledge.
Oh God, it hurts!
I just need this pain to end.
There’s a loud crash and the sound of tinkling of glass hitting the floor on the other side of my bedroom door. It instantly takes me back to that moment just after the crash, and a scream erupts from deep inside me.
My dad comes running in. “I’m sorry, C. I didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart. I just had a little accident in the kitchen…”
An unfamiliar tone in his voice stirs something inside me—I can sense his fear. For the first time since coming home from the hospital, I push myself to leave the cocoon of darkness I’ve enveloped myself in.
Blinking several times, I force myself to “see” again and turn my gaze toward my father. I croak out one word, “Dad…”
He gasps when our eyes meet. “You’re back.”
Dad’s clutching his bloody hand, which he’s wrapped in a kitchen towel.
“What happened?”
He looks at his hand and shakes his head. “When I was putting the dishes away, I knocked the glass mixing bowl down. I tried to catch it as it fell out of the cupboard, but I wasn’t fast enough and only managed to grab the glass shards as it hit the marble counter.”
During his short explanation, the towel had become completely soaked with blood. “You need to see a doctor,” I tell him, the protective side of me forcing its way to the surface. I force myself to get out of bed, ignoring the emotional pain that smothers me like a death shroud.
“Don’t worry about it, C. The only thing that matters is that you’ve come back,” he states.
As much as I want to escape back into the darkness, I can’t stand to see my dad hurt. I slowly walk to the bathroom with him, so I can get
a better look at his injury.
Washing off the blood, I see he has a long, but clean, cut down the side of his palm. I grab gauze from the medicine cabinet and tell him to press hard against the wound to stop the bleeding while I get the medical tape and disinfectant.
After the bleeding is under control, I bandage his hand. He walks me out to the living room and asks me to sit on the couch. The same couch Ethan and I were sitting on that day…
I look around the room and feel disoriented. Everything that’s familiar now seems so foreign and wrong to me because Ethan is gone.
I glance at my mother’s door, seeing that it is still shut.
My eyes shift to my own bedroom door, feeling its call to return and escape this choking pain.
But, when I look over at my dad, I can see the concern in his eyes. I swallow down the urge to escape, knowing he’s had to take care of both of us on his own.
I have never wanted to be like my mother but, in my grief, I was becoming her. I knew how hard it was to be among the ones left behind, having experienced it repeatedly with my mom while growing up—I can’t do that to him.
No matter how much I need to…
“I’m back for good, Dad,” I assure him.
The look of relief on his face is heartbreaking to see.
The fighter inside me awakes, and I silently vow to God and the world not to give in to that urge again, no matter what the future holds.
“How long has it been?” I ask him hesitantly, having no concept of the time that has passed.
“You’ve been in your room since you came home six weeks ago.”
I cringe at hearing his answer. “That long?”
“You were inconsolable after Ethan died.”
Even now, I feel my heart crushing in on itself, hearing those words.
I remember clearly Ethan pushing me away, but everything after that is a blur. I want to understand. I need to understand.
“What happened? Why did that truck head straight toward us?”
My dad takes my hand and squeezes it. “Are you sure you want to talk about it?”
I nod, even as I feel my throat constricting in pain while a flood of emotions threatens to overtake me. “I know Ethan saved my life.”
“He did,” my dad answers with a look of sympathy. “And I am eternally grateful to him for that.”
I close my eyes. Ethan would be alive if it weren’t for me.
“We don’t need to do this now,” my dad suggests.
I open my eyes and gaze into his. “I can’t run away any longer.”
Even now, I hear the strange squeal of the truck as it barrels straight toward us, and I ask him, “What was wrong with the truck? Why was it trying to hit us?”
“Oh, C…” he says, his voice full of sadness. “The driver was drunk and had been running from the cops for over an hour before he reached you. By that time, he’d already hit several cars and lost a tire in one of the collisions.”
That explains the flames.
“So, Ethan died for nothing…” My voice trails off as I swallow down this horrible truth, unable to wrap my head around the fact that Ethan’s death was preventable.
“He’s dead because some guy decided to get toasted in the middle of the day and get into his truck?”
“I’m afraid so,” my dad answers with tears in his eyes.
“How many other people died because of this man?”
“No one else—only minor injuries.”
“Except for Ethan,” I sob.
My dad gathers me in his arms, trying to comfort me. “I’m so sorry, C.”
“It’s not fair!” I cry, my heart shattering into a million pieces all over again.
“No, sweetheart, it’s not.”
Dad holds me close as I finally mourn the loss of my Ethan.
I will never hear his voice again or see his smile or feel his arms around me…
Buddy
Charles Walker
I’ve become a new man under the abrasive but thoughtful instruction of my Drill Sergeant. I can tell he actually wants me to succeed, and that knowledge makes me feel invincible.
I should have known that would be short-lived.
Everything is going well until the Drill Sergeant tells us he’s assigning us a battle buddy for the remainder of training.
I have looked forward to this day and stand at attention, waiting for my assignment, hoping for Jackson. While he still lacks confidence, Jackson and I are a good fit and I know we will do well together.
I have to hide my disappointment when he is paired up with another recruit. I keep my cool as I look over the men left, but my hope is short-lived.
“Walker, you’ve been assigned with Bell.”
I see that the Drill Sergeant is watching me intently, so I hold back any sign of displeasure and answer confidently, “Yes, Drill Sergeant.”
But Grapes has no discipline and growls under his breath, “Fuck!”
I want to roll my eyes as I watch the Drill Sergeant walk over to him. “That’s three laps around the track, and you’ll give me forty pushups on your return.”
The Drill Sergeant then looks at me. “You heard me.”
I clench my jaw, now realizing that I get to share in any punishment my buddy receives. Without wasting time to think about it, I head to the track to start my laps.
Why, of all people, did the Drill Sergeant pair me up with Grapes? We could not be more polar opposite, and we don’t even like each other.
Grapes passes me on the track, muttering, “Asshole.”
“Save your breath, Grapes,” I reply, easily passing him. I may have to take his punishments, but I am not going to let him beat me. He speeds up and we make a full-on sprint back to the squad, dropping to the ground at the same time. To my great satisfaction, I finish first and stand up, breathing hard from the effort as he finishes up his last two pushups.
“Wipe that grin off your face, Walker!” the Drill Sergeant shouts at me as he walks over. “There should be no look of pride after punishment.”
I immediately frown. “Yes, Drill Sergeant.”
He walks over to Grapes. “And you let him beat you.”
Grapes’ eyes flash with anger as he glances over at me.
With those simple words, our Drill Sergeant has set the groundwork for an intense rivalry.
I’m not about to let that prick ruin everything I’m working for, and I will do whatever it takes to set his sorry ass straight.
That evening, the drill instructor comes in to call out the names of everyone who has received mail. I already know he won’t be calling my name, but every time, I still hold out hope.
I’m not the only who has yet to hear their name. Grapes is equally letter-less.
It is a sad reality we both share but, unlike him, I continue to write a letter home every Tuesday. The routine has several purposes. It acts as a running record of my experiences here, as well as forcing me to reflect back on my week.
But the main purpose is to let Jacob know I have not forgotten him.
After the sergeant leaves, I pick up my pen and start on my letter.
“You’re pathetic,” Grapes growls from his bunk. “At least I don’t grovel. It only makes you look like a chump.”
I glance at him dismissively. “A least I have someone to write home to.” I return my attention to the blank paper and start scribbling.
Hey Jacob,
I made it through the gas chamber and become acquainted with the M-16 I’ll be using throughout training. I can’t tell you how good it felt to hold one again, even if it’s old and abused.
Right now, the squad is learning how to hold, point, take apart, clean, and put the gun back together. Funny, since you and I can do that in our sleep.
The big news this week is that I got my Battle Buddy assignment. I find it ironic that he is the last person I wanted to be paired with.
Thing is, Jacob, life works like that. You can either get pissed about it or you can fa
ce it head on. I’ve wanted to see this jerk go for a while now based on his crappy attitude but, now that I’m stuck with him, I’m going to make sure he sticks it out to the end.
Everything is a matter of perspective.
So if things are getting you down, little man, I want you to keep that in mind. Don’t waste energy getting mad. Harness that energy to get through it. Learn that and you’ll go far in life.
Hope you are having fun this summer. Give Mama a hug for me.
Love,
Charlie
Folding up the letter, I set it down while I fish out an envelope from my locker. I don’t see Grapes sneaking up to grab it before it’s too late. “What do we have here? A love letter to the girl that left you for a better man?”
I rush over to him, trying to get it back as he starts reading. “‘Hey Jacob…’ Oh, is that how you roll? I’m going to have to report you to the proper authorities.”
The other men are now curious to hear the rest, so they grab my arms and hold me back.
Grapes continues reading it out loud and stops after I mention being able to do it in our sleep. “Oh, I bet you two can do it in your sleep,” he says in a sarcastic tone.
“He’s my brother, asshole,” I snarl, trying to break the hold they have on me.
“Right…”
The other men laugh at my expense, but I don’t care what anyone thinks. I just want to get that damn letter back before he reads any more.
“Now, this should be good,” Grapes says eagerly. “‘The big news this week is that I got my Battle Buddy assignment…’” Grapes reads the next few lines to himself and then looks at me and frowns.
“What does it say?” one of guys holding me demands.
Grapes crumples the letter. “Doesn’t matter.”
Another guy snatches it from him and continues reading as people elbow each other while listening to my thoughts about my Buddy assignment. The guy trails off after reading, “‘Give Mama a hug for me…’” Everyone is silent as he hands the crinkled letter back to me with a sheepish expression.