“Have you talked to Evie and James yet?”
My forearm lifts to cover my eyes. I wish my answer was yes.
“No.” My voice is tiny. “How are they?” Stupid, stupid question.
“Not well. Evie’s looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.”
I turn my head away from her, squeeze my eyes, and dry heave. It happens every time I think about tomorrow.
Her hands are on me, on my face, pressing my cheeks and forehead. “Honey, what’s going on? Are you sick?”
“Not sick.” I look back to her distressed face. “This is what my body does when my brain remembers what tomorrow is.”
“If there was anything in there to come up…”
“It would be on my bed.”
She looks pained. “Kate, this isn’t good. Ethan would hate this.”
I hate this too.
I shrug.
“Do you want to talk yet?”
The shake of my head is barely perceptible. I’m sure she knew what my answer was going to be.
“I know a thing or two about losing the love of your life,” she says softly.
I can’t talk. Even to her, the woman who lost her husband. My father. I can’t talk because what’s inside me now is nothing but a dark, deep nothingness. An abyss. I can’t see around it, under it, or beyond it. The darkness is me and I am the darkness.
Evie and James don’t need my darkness.
My chest feels heavy, pushing me down into the mattress. Soon my body will move with sobs that shake my center and make my legs and arms slack.
“Mom, can you please go? I need to be alone.”
I roll over so I don’t see the hurt I’m certain is in her eyes.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She sounds disappointed. “Your brother's coming in the morning. Can we take you?”
“I have a ride.” Get out, get out. It’s coming.
“Okay.” She sounds hurt. “I love you.”
“Love you,” I mumble.
My door closes just as the first sob takes over. Knuckles pressed to my lips silence the sound.
Say goodbye to Ethan.
Twenty years together.
One day to say goodbye.
My stomach contracts. This is more than a dry heave. I swallowed water in the shower. I ate three bites of Harper’s yogurt this afternoon to get her out of my room.
Weak arms lift me up, and I twist just in time to bend over my nightstand. The cascade lands on the plate of food my mother left behind.
Spent, I lie back down and wipe my mouth with my forearm. Old Kate would already be flossing, brushing, and gargling. New Kate doesn’t care about stomach acid and its effects on tooth enamel.
My legs curl into my chest. What if my shattered heart and I left everyone behind? I could leave this world and go find Ethan. My reason for living no longer exists. Why should I?
My whole body wants to follow the darkness. What would it take? One of my kitchen knives slicing across the right spot on my wrist… My neck squeezed tight by a shoelace… I don’t know how to make a slipknot, but I could learn.
Fear ripples through me. Suicide? I can’t. I remember my Sunday school teachings. If I want to be with Ethan again, I can’t go in search of him.
I cry, my eyes aching and burning, until the only blackness I can have falls over me.
12
Kate
Goodbye, Ethan.
Is that what I’m supposed to say?
I look into the mirror and say it out loud. My voice is a whisper. I try it again.
“Goodbye, Ethan.” This time my voice is louder.
“Are you talking to yourself?” Harper’s standing in the entrance to my bathroom, mouth turned down.
“No,” I mutter. I’m talking to Ethan.
“It looks like a bomb went off in here.”
I look around me. Dirty clothes litter the ground, used towels hang haphazardly from the curtain rod. The contents of my makeup bag dot the length of the countertop, and I’m leaning against the counter, in the middle of it all. I swing my arm over the mess and send the little pots of color flying across the room. Some hit the wall and tumble down, others go directly to the floor. I barely notice the sound of plastic splintering.
Harper’s face remains impassive. She grabs a tube of concealer from behind the faucet and hands it to me. “Make sure you use this. You need it.”
I do as she says, plucking makeup one piece at a time from the floor and finishing my routine. How is it that my mind hasn't forgotten how to do this simple thing, when my whole body wants to?
I finish my makeup under Harper’s watchful eye. She leaves to get dressed, and I wander into my closet.
What am I supposed to wear to say goodbye to my best friend? Black would be the most traditional choice, but I can't bring myself to do it. I don't want to sit with hundreds of other people and be just another head in a mass of black.
Ethan loved me in red.
My fingers run along the hangers, looking for a dress. It’s not black, or appropriate for a memorial. And I don’t care. Ethan liked the color and that’s all that matters.
The red dress slips over my shoulders, gliding across my skin and falling into place.
I step out of my room. “That’s what you’re going to wear?” Harper asks, disapproval plain on her face.
I grab my purse and walk toward the front door. “Let’s go.”
My stomach knots. Every step closer is a step I don’t want to take. The urge to turn and run is strong. I could do it. Take off and go… Anywhere.
Anywhere that isn’t Ethan’s funeral.
I wait at the top of the stairs while Harper locks our front door.
Of course I’ll go to Ethan’s funeral. It’s the last place I want to be, but I would never miss it.
***
I remember this smell.
Must. Paper. Old carpet.
Church.
My mom and Noah meet me in the foyer. My brother looks uncomfortable in his suit. His brown, curly hair hangs over his forehead.
My mom’s eyes search mine. What is she looking for?
She hugs me, and her hair smells like pasta. How much more food is she going to cook?
I’m passed off to Noah. My little brother is much bigger than I am. The hug is awkward. He murmurs something about how sorry he is and that Ethan never treated him like an annoying little brother.
My mom takes my hand. “Evie’s asked me to take you to the first pew.” My feet move with her, but I’m not sure how. It doesn’t feel like I’m directing them.
“Here’s a program,” says a kind voice at the door to the sanctuary. The tri-fold paper hangs in the air between me and the old man with the apologetic face.
“Thank you.” I take it and try not to look at the shiny paper with Ethan’s picture on the front.
Mom leads me to the front of the church. I keep my eyes on my feet. I don’t want to see anybody.
I sit where my mom tells me to. I try not to lift my head. I try not to look. But I do.
A huge, floral wreath lays against an easel, Ethan's picture in the center. Little American flags stick out of the flowers.
“Mom, where’s…?” I don’t know what to say.
The casket?
His body?
Ethan?
I look back to her. She bites the side of her lower lip.
“Mom?”
“The helicopter was badly burned. They…” She gulps. “They haven’t been able to recover everyone.”
My stomach flips, turns. Bile rises. My hand clamps over my mouth.
“I didn’t want you to find out like this. This week… I wanted to tell you every time I saw you, but you weren’t in any condition to hear it.”
I close my eyes. My breath is shallow. Ethan’s beautiful, perfect body. His soul, so vital to keeping my soul intact. Gone.
Behind me I hear noise. Feet shuffling. Murmurs. Backslaps muted by thick layers of suit fabric.
“Kate?”
I open my eyes and turn my head.
Evie is sitting beside me. Her eyes meet mine. Caramel. Ethan’s eyes. Her lips make tiny movements, like she’s trying not to cry.
It doesn’t work.
I see her tears and add my own.
Her hands are on the back of my head, running through my hair as she holds me.
“Your mother said you wouldn’t get out of bed.” Her voice is low.
I pull back and look at her, see the dark circles under her eyes, knowing how they match my own.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth. It’s all I can say.
“I know.” Her hand moves to my face. She holds my cheek.
“Excuse me?” says a deep, thick voice.
Evie looks first. “You made it.” She stands up.
I look up to find a soldier in her arms. My heart lurches.
Not Ethan.
But for just a fraction of a second…
Evie lets the soldier go. “I’m so happy to finally meet you. Ethan… Well, he loved you. He talked about you all the time.”
The soldier nods and looks at the floor. He clears his throat and brings his eyes back to Evie’s face. “I'm so sorry for your loss. He was my best friend.” His voice falters. “This, uh… It hurts. A lot.”
Best friend?
Soldier?
Nick Hunter.
He looks down at me. My voice is in my throat. The uniform… Pain stabs my heart.
Nick takes a knee in front of me. He looks me in the eye. “Kate?” His hand extends between us. “I’m Nick Hunter.”
I place my palm in his warm hand. The corners of my mouth turn up like they are supposed to, but it’s not a real smile. “Nice to finally meet you, Nick Hunter.”
Dimly I remember I’m supposed to be this person’s tour guide. It’s the last thing I want to do.
Evie puts a hand on my shoulder. “The pastor said it’s time to start.”
Nick takes a few steps away but Evie’s arm shoots out to stop him.
“You sit down here with us. Next to Kate.”
Evie takes her seat on the other side of my mother, beside James.
Ethan’s dad… His eyes are wide, bugged out, and he's staring down at his hands.
Nick sits down. I should say something, but I don’t know what. I wish he were wearing civilian clothes. The uniform is making this harder.
I lean back slightly and squint at Nick until my eyes water.
His mahogany hair turns black.
The bump on his nose straightens.
His square jawline rounds.
He turns his face, and his eyes peer into mine, the confusion in them clear. His blue eyes don’t change to caramel.
I turn my face forward. I should be mortified. But I’m not. I don’t know how to recall that emotion. Two hands fall on my shoulders and squeeze. I look back and into Zane’s eyes, brimming with tears. Emotion, so strong and sad, passes between us. We stare at each other for another moment, until the pastor and the choir come out.
The pastor speaks of Ethan’s accomplishments and his heroic service to the United States. The choir sings Amazing Grace while a slideshow of pictures plays on a screen above their heads. Part of me wants to close my eyes as Ethan’s image clips by. As much as it hurts to see his face, over and over in so many expressions and varying points in life, watching it is hypnotizing. I sit, mesmerized, as our history flashes before me.
Seven years old, waiting for the bus stop on our first day of second grade. We’re each holding a lunch box, and my arm is slung around Ethan’s shoulder. We beamed for the camera. Ethan was missing a tooth.
The slideshow continues on like that, each picture stabbing a new wound in my heart. All the pictures, even the ones without me in them, are familiar to me. Every step of the way, throughout most of his life, I was there.
It’s all here in front of me. The Christmas he got a guitar, the ski trip with his parents and Zane, the broken leg from falling out of the big tree in my back yard. The pictures zip by, taking us from high school and into college. To everyone sitting behind me, the pictures are still images, but to me they are so much more. I don’t see just one moment captured in time. I know the moments leading up to the click of the camera and remember what happened after the camera was put away.
And then, the very last image. Ethan’s Army picture. So handsome in his dark green Class A's, his beret perched just so on his head. No smile in this picture. He looks intimidating and strong. Worthy of the responsibility handed to him. A responsibility for which he would give the ultimate sacrifice.
***
I ride with my mom and Noah to the veteran's cemetery. Ethan’s parents, me, my family, Zane and Nick sit on the benches under the ramada. Other attendees stand in a semi-circle around the structure. A bugler, outfitted in dress blues, plays Taps. The sound, so similar to a trumpet, seeps into my skin and flows through my veins, leaving a haunting feeling in its path. My shoulders jump as the rifle volleys are shot. I shade my teary eyes from the sun when the Air Force does a fly over, one aircraft missing from formation. Two soldiers fold up an American flag in a very precise and methodical way and present it to Ethan's parents. A few words are said, a final prayer is offered, and then it's over.
After, I stand off to the side of the covered pavilion, watching people leave and averting my gaze every time someone makes eye contact. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Their platitudes don’t help.
Trent and Harper stand together, chatting. Harper laughs and tosses her hair.
What is there to laugh about right now? Nothing is funny.
The quiet and solitude of my bed calls my name, but I want to talk to Evie and James. They are besieged by well-wishers, so I wait. My foot slides off the concrete pad and dips down into the sandy dirt. With the toe of my shoe, I make swirls in the dirt.
“Hanging in there?”
I look up into blue eyes.
By a thread, I want to say.
“I guess so.” I nod. “You?”
Nick shrugs. The movement doesn’t look like much under the weight of the fatigues. “Nothing can prepare a person for this.”
My eyes burn as they fill. “Nothing.”
I pull a tissue from my purse and dab my eyes and nose. Nick surveys me.
“I feel like I already know you,” he says after I’ve stashed the tissue in my purse. “Ethan talked about you all the time.”
Because he loved me more than any man has ever loved any woman. And now he’s gone.
I sniff. “He talked about you, too. Lots of fun nights in Europe.” I work to keep my voice light. Shallow stabs assail my chest as I recall the animation on Ethan’s face when he told his stories.
Nick laughs once, his smile wistful. “Guilty.” He holds his hands up in surrender.
“Have you moved here?” Remorse creeps in. I’m supposed to be helping this guy adjust to life here. I told Ethan I would. But that was before the rug was snatched out from under me.
Nick’s hands go into his pockets as he rocks back on his heels. “Day One.”
I can’t muster any semblance of a smile. “Welcome to the Valley of the Sun.”
“This isn’t exactly what I thought my first day would be like.”
“Life is not what I thought it would be like anymore.”
Nick reaches for me, touches my forearm. His eyes are sad.
“Are you waiting for the Shepherds too?” I ask. I can’t take his sadness. I’m inundated by my own.
“I’m going home with them.”
“You are?”
“Evie insisted. I called her a few days ago to let her know I would to try to make it here by today.” He shakes his head. “I cut it pretty close. I ran full speed to make my connection in New York.”
“That’s—”
“Kate, are you ready to leave?” Harper interrupts us. She smiles her pretty girl smile at Nick.
“I’m waiting for Evie and James.”
Harper doesn
’t look at me. “Hi,” she says to Nick. “I’m Harper Robinson. Kate’s roommate.”
Nick takes her outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you. Nick Hunter.”
“Did you know Ethan?” Harper’s voice goes soft, and her head tilts. I will flip a lid if she uses Ethan’s funeral as a time to flirt.
I walk away. I know Harper well enough by now.
Evie catches me as I’m looking for my mom. “Promise me you’ll start getting out of bed?”
“Promise.” Just not until I have to go back to work.
“Can you come over for lunch on Monday?”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate to agree. “What day is it today?”
“Kate…” Evie frowns.
I hold up a hand. “Please. I just don’t know what today is. That’s all.”
“Today is Saturday. June twenty-first.”
“Thank you.”
“Everything okay?” My mom’s voice reaches us before she does.
I see Evie look at my mom, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. Almost.
“Harper’s ready to take me home, I think.” I look over to where I left Harper and Nick. Nobody is there.
“Kate’s coming over to have lunch with me on Monday,” Evie says to my mom.
“That’s great.” Mom sounds relieved. And happy. “Can you stop at our house after?”
I nod. She grins.
A waving arm catches my attention. Harper’s standing halfway between the pavilion and her car, one hand on her hip.
I hug both women and catch up to Harper.
“Kate, I have a date tonight. Let’s go.” She snaps her fingers and starts walking.
“You have a date tonight?” Dirt and tiny rocks kick up as I hurry to stay in step beside her.
She gives me a side-eye. “It’s Saturday. Of course I have a date.”
“But… it’s… Never mind.” I’d rather be alone anyway.
We reach her car. I pause with the door open and look around. Thousands of small rectangular headstones lay flush with the ground. And one of them is Ethan’s.
Zane catches my gaze. He’s standing under a tree with his hands in his pockets. I wave at him, my arm moving slowly. He nods at me. It’s too far for me to clearly see the look on his face.
The Day He Went Away Page 10