Swelter

by Nina G. Jones

  No, instead, I would use that time to follow his wishes. But I needed my sister's help. And I hoped after telling her our story, she would understand.

  “I need to make a phone call,” I said. “It's important.”

  Will was silent for a while after I told him the news. I waited patiently on the other end. Bobby wasn't just important to me. Bobby helped Will heal from the loss of his brother. And while he couldn't replace Curtis, he helped patch the hole that was left behind. In just a few years, Will lost another brother.

  He broke the silence. “I'm so sorry, Lilly. Oh man,” he gasped.

  “Thank you,” I sobbed.

  “He knew . . .” he rasped.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He would say to me that he felt that he was supposed to die. That he eked out some extra time, but he felt it was a gift. A gift Curtis gave to him by standing where he stood. Had their order been reversed . . .” Will paused to collect himself. “I told him not to be so damned morose. But he told me that he thought it was so he could see you again. Fix the things he messed up.”

  I clenched my throat around the knot that formed. If I let it rise, I wouldn't be able to speak. “He said that to me. When he was on the ground, in my arms. And he made me promise to call you. He cared about you so much . . .” I had to stop to fight the eruption threatening to escape my chest.

  “I know he did. And I loved him like a brother. You know that. But it's not just because of that,” Will replied, his throat thick with emotion. “A couple of days ago he called me. He told me he was headed out west and that you weren't coming. I didn't ask. I knew what that meant. But you know, he always walked around with this idea that he was on borrowed time so he made me make some promises, too. He kind of implied that now that he kept his promises to Curtis, and you weren't coming, maybe his time was up. At the time I gave him the usual crap I did. Told him he was gonna be fine. And he said maybe, but he wanted to make sure you had some things. I guess in case he never got to give them to you himself.”

  “Things?” I asked.

  “Yeah. He mailed me a package. I just got it today . . . when I got it, I thought he was still alive,” he uttered in disbelief. “His instructions were to hold onto it. And if anything ever happened to him, or if you ever needed help, I was to make sure you got this. Maybe I would have sent it back when I found out you decided to go with him, but when he thought you were staying behind, this is what he wanted.” Will took a deep breath. “Lilly, I think a lot of that talk was just him missing you. If it's any consolation, I think you coming back to him . . . his last day was filled with hope. He saw you as life. His lucky charm. He must have been so happy to have you with him again.”

  “Thank you. He was,” I affirmed in a weak voice. In a way it did console me. I was happy to have those last moments with Bobby, that he was full of hope before those bullets ravaged his body. But a lucky charm, I was not. Bobby came back for me. He found himself in Stan's path because he loved me too much to keep driving west without me. So in other ways, those final moments of glee made the tragedy more profound. Maybe he was better off driving away in misery. “His funeral is tomorrow,” I said.

  “He wasn't much of a fan of those types of affairs.”

  “No, he wasn't. He wouldn't want a fuss made. And . . . I'm not going. I don't want to be with those people. I can't see him like that . . .” I choked on air as the sobs finally broke through.

  “What do you need from me? Bobby wouldn't care about me going to his funeral, but he would want me to take care of you. Be there for you. I made him promise the same about Sasha.”

  “Can you come? Bring the package?”

  “Of course.”

  “And um, I'd like to go to the lake house . . . no one will be there. That's where I know I'll feel him.”

  “Sweetie, whatever you need. And this won't change my answer, but does your family know? If they think you've gone missing and find a black man—”

  “Yes. My sister knows. She understands.”

  I didn't tell Will everything. I didn't tell him about the baby. I thought the news of Bobby's death was more than enough news for one phone call. I wanted the pregnancy to be good news. And when the news was delivered with Bobby's death, it turned it into something tragic. So I held onto that bit of hope for a better day.

  The day of Bobby's funeral was the day the hospital discharged me with instructions to rest, not get stressed, and take it easy. That was an impossible prescription.

  The bleeding had stopped, the headaches from the trauma had dulled, but rest? Take it easy? I couldn't sleep without waking up every hour reaching for Bobby. I couldn't just sit around on the day Bobby would be laid to rest.

  Will and Sasha waited outside for me, their expressions full of warm sadness. My sister politely left for the funeral after the introductions. We embraced tearfully. Already, being around Bobby's chosen family, I felt him. Like he had just stepped away for a moment and would pop into the car and wink at me. I sat in the back, and as soon as the car took off, Will looked at Sasha and tilted his head to her. She nodded and bent over, picking up a small cardboard box.

  “This is for you,” she said.

  I took it from her hands, and cradled it on my lap. I knew inside I would hear from Bobby again, but I wasn't ready to do it here. I wanted to be where I would be closest to him. At my favorite place in the world.

  The lake house had never felt so quiet before. Even when it was just Bobby and me, there was laughter or shouting or splashing or tools clanking. But all I heard when we stepped out of Will's car was the soft swooshing of trees. Not a bird. Not a grasshopper. There was an unprecedented stillness around us. And I knew it was Bobby showing me he was still here.

  I handed the keys for the main house to Sasha. “I think I'd like to go down to the dock alone for a bit.”

  “Sure, honey,” she said, running her hand over my hair.

  She voiced something inaudible to Will before they looked back at me, smiled, and gave me my time alone with Bobby.

  I stood at the edge of the dock, at the spot we jumped from on that night when we had finally confessed how we felt. I closed my eyes as a strong wind came through as a flock of birds all launched from the lake at once. I smiled. It was a strange reaction, but for a fleeting moment, I felt the good times. They still lived here. They still lived in me.

  I slid off my shoes, placed the box on the ground, and sat on the dock's edge, dipping my toes in the cold water. The weather was perfect, the heat had finally broken to a pleasant warmth.

  I pulled the brown paper wrapping off the box. Affixed to the top was a notecard. I scraped the last bit of strength I had from the bottom of its well, and pried the note open.

  Lil,

  I don't know when you'll see this. I hope that you never have to or that it's when your hair is grey and you're watching your grandchildren laughing and running around, but if it's sooner than that, I am so sorry.

  I don't think I am supposed to be here very long. Sometimes I think I was given a little extra time to make things right with you. I think—I hope—I've done that. You not coming along affirms my hunch. Like my mission might be complete. I hope you understand that any mistakes I made were because I was trying to do the right thing. And I know I hurt you, but I tried to do the things I thought would give you the best life.

  I'm just a few hours from heading out west, and I hoped it would be with you, but we can't have everything we want.

  I want you to understand that I'm not angry at you for staying. My only hope in coming back was to let you know that you were the love of my life and that no one else could ever take your place. That I left precisely because of that. Everything else that happened upon my return was just a bonus. So the times we did spend together have been the most incredible moments of my life.

  I've been all over the world, met so many people, seen so many things. And yet, I understand why the lake was your favorite place on earth. I laughed you off when you
told me that the night before your wedding. But I was just a nineteen-year-old trying to sound worldly when I didn't know anything yet. The truth was it was already my favorite place because it was where I got to spend the most time with you.

  Anyway, the contents of this box were something I held onto. I mailed these to a PO box thinking one day I might give them to you. But then, when I saw you, I didn't want to wrap us up in the past. Seeing you only made me think of possibility. Of a future I didn't even allow myself to consider. That maybe I was given the chance of an entire lifetime with you when I got a second chance up on that hill.

  But I think you should have these. You should know what you meant to me all those years we missed in between then and now. And the other stuff, it's just my way of taking care of you even if I'm not around any longer. I just want to make sure you have all the things you need to be free if you so choose. And if this finds you later in life and you don't need it, please pass it to someone else who you think will. I trust you'll put it in good hands.

  I might be gone, but I'll never leave. Ever. You have a piece of me. You always have. Since before I could understand what that meant.

  I hope your life is filled with joy and wonder. And I hope we'll find a way back to each other as we did once before.

  - Bobby

  I took a while to get to the box. I just sat there for a while, holding his final note to me close to my heart, and then I slid it down to my tummy, so our baby could be close to her father. So she could feel his love, and what an incredible person he was. I ran my fingers along the letter, touching something he touched. I only wished his fingers were on the other end instead of paper and ink.

  I placed the letter to my side and opened the box. At the top was a stack of envelopes bound together, bent and foxed from wear. I pulled on the twine and flipped through them. I pressed them to my lips and nose, taking in the scent of the old paper. Trying to find a way hug Bobby's words. I had assumed he tossed them or lost them when he was taken. When he first told me about them, I was too bitter to ask.

  I choked on tears of melancholic joy. Bobby was dead, but there was still part of him left to discover. I once thought I would have a lifetime to study him, to learn something new every day, even after all the years we had known each other, but I lost that. At least this was better than what I thought I was left with.

  I hesitated to open the first one. There was something precious about the way they were still sealed. But they were sealed for this purpose. So that they would be safe until they reached me when I needed them the most.

  I devoured the letters. Crying. Laughing. Snorting. Snickering. Swooning.

  . . . I've only been here a few days, but I met this guy named Curtis. He talks A LOT. But he's really funny. The kind of guy that makes you want to laugh when you're not supposed to. Almost got me in trouble with the SGT when I had to hold in a laugh. What a clown . . .

  . . . We're getting sent to South Korea tomorrow. I'm going to be honest with you and tell you I'm nervous. I know that's not what I'm supposed to say. But I keep thinking, what if I don't come back home and I never see you again? I should have stopped by. I should have said goodbye. But I didn't want to be a disruption . . .

  . . . Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I wonder what you're doing. If you're thinking about me. If what happened between us is just a silly thing that you've gotten over. Because I haven't, Lil. I thought running off would make me forget how it felt. But all it does is make me miss you more . . .

  . . . This is a little bit embarrassing. Remember Curtis? He and I have gotten really close. You'd love him. He has a girl, and well, I told him I did too. You, Lil. I know it's silly, but I tell myself that I have you waiting for me at home. Maybe I do, not in the way that I'd like, but in a way I can accept. I want to see you again, so bad . . .

  . . . I saw something awful today. No, awful's not the right word. This kid, Jimmy, from Kansas. He was kind of quiet, but really nice. And right next to me, just feet away, there was an explosion and he was in pieces. Pieces all over me. And when I looked, he was still alive. But he was blown in half. And I held his hand until the life left his eyes. There are times when I want to give up. It's so cold, and I'm so tired. And there's so much noise. It's so loud. And when I get a moment of quiet, I think about your laugh. I think about you. About that night. How I thought I would never know what it would feel like to feel your lips on mine, to run my hands over your soft body. And yet, there you were, like a wish fulfilled. I know it's wrong, because you're with Rory, but I need those memories. They are the only things that keep me going. Do you think about me? Do you relive that night over and over like an obsession? I want to tell myself that it's not just me romanticizing it because I'm trapped in this hell. But you said you loved me. So I have to believe that you still go back to that night in your dreams like I did . . .

  . . . Today was hard, Lil. That's all I can even put on paper. Just hard . . .

  . . . So I found out about mom and dad today. You know, I thought it was going to be them getting the news about me. But here I am, bombs and bullets flying overhead, and it's them who die in the tranquility of an afternoon drive. I never wanted them to get that visit at the door. And now I'm thankful that if I go, they won't. But I also realized, that truly, there's nothing to go back to. I've created an entire world where we are together. An alternate reality where it was just you and me. What kind of asshole pines over his brother's wife? I kid myself about these fantasies of you waiting as I come off a ship, in a pretty dress, jumping into my arms. But I know it's a fantasy. Because you have Rory and he has you. And I have no one to come back to. Not even mom and dad. So I think I'm going to stop the bull. Because the truth is I lost you. And writing letters won't change that. And looking at the stars and wondering if you still think about me doesn't change that. I wanted to disappear after the wedding. And I sort of did. Dropping out of school, traveling the country. But mom and dad kept me grounded. Now that they're gone, I can truly vanish. Maybe that's for the best . . .

  . . . I know I said I'd stop writing to you, but I'm here in a hospital and I begged the nurse for a paper and pen because I needed someone. And the only person I could think of was you. You're the only person I want to talk to right now. Curtis died. No . . . Curtis was shot in the head standing right next to me. You know, Curtis wasn't just a friend. He was a brother to me. I had to give up Rory in some ways. Actually, many ways. I’m sure he’s hurt that after the wedding I hit the road, and hardly called. Mom and dad told me as much. But I felt like a fraud talking to him. When Curtis came in, I had that feeling again, of a guy I could talk to, rely on. He was here and then in an instant he was gone. I'm not even sure if I'm really here. I think I am because my shoulder hurts, and the wound is there. And I hear the cries of amputees and burn victims. But I should have died. And the only reason I think I'm still here is because I am supposed to do two things Curtis asked of me. One of those things is to go get you. But I can't just get you, can I? You probably have a family now with Rory and have moved on. So that's what I need to do, too. At least I'm going to try. Become someone else for a while. And do at least one of the things I promised Curtis: tell his girl and his brother he loves them. Maybe one day, when I can think of you with a clear head, I'll come back. Just to make sure you're happy. Because if you are, then I'll know I did the right thing. But right now, I can't see you without wanting you. And it's wrong. For you. For Rory . . .

  When I reached the end of the letters, I flipped the pages over frantically. I wanted more of him. The ending came too fast again. Reading the letters was sad, but it was a beautiful sadness. The kind of sadness that can only come with profound and extraordinary love. Having a love like this is a gamble, because when you lose, you lose more than you think you can afford to surrender. You lose parts of yourself you think you need to survive.

  But with each sentence of Bobby's I read, I bloomed, like a parched plant being fed water. His words filled me with love, giving m
e back some of those pieces. And for the first time, I felt connected to the life inside of me. Not just an instinct of protection. Not just a source of responsibility. But I felt like a person lived in me. I surged with hope again. With thoughts of the future. With strength. With love.

  I reached for the other items in the box. A life insurance policy with me as the beneficiary. His will, leaving me everything in his name, including his inheritance and his truck. A key to a safety deposit box, and a note attached to the key explaining that the box held a couple thousand dollars cash.

  I looked up into the blue sky, full of puffy clouds. “I'll take care of her, Bobby,” I whispered. “I'm gonna make you proud.”

  A gust of wind lifted the stack of letters, and I grabbed at them, laughing through a heavy heart. Maybe it was just a gust of wind, but it would have been just like Bobby to want to send me scrambling. He was always such a pain in my butt.

  But of course, I was still so, so sad. So I hugged the stack of letters and cried for a while. But I drew courage from the words I had read. How a twenty-year-old man had gone through so much loss and never lost his kindness, was never overcome with bitterness. In fact, he came back and touched lives with his spirit. He saw the world and all the beauty in it. He never got wrapped up in the trivial things. He knew what was important.

  When I was ready, and the gusts of wind had stilled for good, I walked back to the house.

  Will and Sasha were inside cooking lunch. The slap of the screen door closing caught their attention.