by Naomi Niles
He didn’t even acknowledge me. “That’s my wife you’re touching asshole.”
My eyes went wide with horror as embarrassment flooded through me. It was just like Paul to screw everything up just when I was beginning to feel normal again. Josh looked back and forth between Paul and me with confusion. “Excuse me?” he asked. Then he looked at me, “You’re married?”
“Divorced,” I said with finality. “For over a year now.” I turned to Paul. “You need to leave, right now.”
“I’m not going anywhere until this dick gets the hell away from you.”
“Are you for real, man?” Josh asked as anger began to color his tone. “I think it’s pretty clear that she wants nothing to do with you.”
Then without any warning, Paul launched himself at Josh, pushing me out of the way in the process. I knocked into one of the tables and almost tripped over my own legs but I managed to steady myself in time. When I looked up again, Paul had Josh’s head fastened beneath his elbow as he tried to punch him in the gut.
“Paul!” I screamed. “Stop this now!”
A few of the guys at the bar came forward and pulled the two furious men apart. Paul was struggling against their hold but Josh calmed down almost immediately. I could see that Paul had hit him the face; his left cheek had already started to bruise.
“Oh God,” I said coming forward. “Josh … I’m so sorry—”
“To hell with this,” Josh said with unexpected venom. “I don’t need this high school drama.”
He wrenched himself free of the two men who were holding him back and straightened out his shirt. He gave me a parting glance and then he walked out of the bar without a second look. Furiously, I turned towards Paul, who was panting heavily.
“Are you out of your mind?” I screamed. “Going around bars and picking fights with random strangers? What are you, fifteen-years-old?” I ripped the apron from around my waist and threw it at his face. “Stay away from me! Just stay the hell away from me.”
With that, I turned and walked out of the bar, wondering if I was just another twenty-eight-year-old woman whose life had peaked in high school and then gotten lost in the rough and tumble of life.
Chapter Five
Dylan
I woke up to laughter and conversation. My head was aching from the previous night and I could smell the girl’s perfume on me. I had already forgotten her name. I rose from my bunker and prepared for my morning run.
I’d gotten into the habit early on during my training. I loved the beach in the mornings, the water wafted onto the shore in calming bursts of blue and the sand had that welcoming heat that gave you the momentum to keep moving. It was practically empty that morning when I started my jog, and by the time I had finished, a few people had started filtering in.
Sometimes I liked to sit by the surf and watch people walk by—mothers with young children, bachelors with their dogs, and older couples getting in some early morning cardio. It felt so normal and yet, it was so far removed from my life that it also felt alien to me. I was back at the base within two hours and I grabbed some breakfast at the commissary. I had just bitten into my sausage and bacon sandwich when I remembered the call I had received the previous night.
I pulled my phone out and scrolled through the missed calls. The number was unknown but I dialed it in anyway and waited for the line to connect. A few seconds later, a throaty voice that sounded vaguely familiar answered.
“Hello?”
“Hello,” I replied. “This is Dylan.”
“Dylan!” the voice cried. “You didn’t pick up last night?”
“Aunt Brenda?” I asked beginning to place the voice.
“Of course it’s Aunt Brenda,” she exclaimed. “Who else would it be?” I could think of a few people but I bit my tongue, wondering why on earth she had called me.
“Did Tyler speak to you?” she asked almost tearfully and I started to get a little nervous.
“Talk to me about what?” I asked cautiously.
“Oh dear,” Brenda said going quiet.
“Aunt Brenda,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Dylan dear … I don’t know how to tell you this … but it’s about your father …”
“What about him? Is he ok?” I asked as the panic started to rise.
“I … I’m so sorry Dylan; your father passed away yesterday morning.”
I sat there, staring down at my bacon and sausage sandwich trying to make sense of what Aunt Brenda had just told me. “What?” I asked stupidly.
“Your father, Dylan …” Brenda tried again. “He died last morning.”
“I … that can’t be,” I said slowly. “Dad’s fine; I spoke to him last week.”
There was a pause on the other line. “I know,” Brenda said slowly. “None of us expected it, Dylan. It was a complete shock…”
“Where’s mom?” I demanded suddenly as the realization hit home.
“She’s here, in the house.”
“Can you put her on the phone?” I asked.
I couldn’t seem to feel the grief. All I could feel was anger. I wondered why Tyler hadn’t called me himself. Why was I hearing about dad’s death from Aunt Brenda, of all people?
“I’m sorry Dylan,” Brenda replied. “Your mother … she’s not doing so well. She’s locked in her room and she won’t come out.”
“How long has she been in there?”
“Since it happened.”
“Tell her it’s Dylan,” I said with confidence. “Tell her that I want to speak to her.”
Brenda sounded uncertain, but she didn’t argue with me. I heard a shuffling and a few moments later I heard a distinctive knock. “Louisa,” I heard her say. “Louisa, Dylan’s on the phone. He wants to speak to you.” I could hear her answer back but I couldn’t make out the words.
“I’m sorry, Dylan,” Brenda said a moment later. “She’s just not up for talking to anyone.”
“Ok,” I said trying to calm myself down. “Ok.”
“The funeral will be held the day after tomorrow,” Brenda continued. “I know your mother wants you to be there.”
“Where’s Tyler?” I asked abruptly.
“He’s busy, preparing for the funeral.”
“All right,” I said. “Thanks, Aunt Brenda.”
I hung up before she could reply and then I dialed Tyler’s number. He didn’t answer the first time, so I hung up and called him again. Finally, on the third try, he picked up. I could tell from his voice that he was annoyed.
“Tyler?” I said.
“I assume Aunt Brenda told you.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I demanded. “Our father dies and you can’t pick up the Goddamn phone to inform your brother?”
“Fuck you, Dylan,” Tyler shot back. “I’m handling everything down here, all right? Aunt Brenda’s not exactly competent and mom’s a complete mess. She won’t even come out of her room, which means I have to do everything. And to be honest, I really don’t have time for you and your complaints—”
“All right, all right,” I said quickly, wanting to diffuse the situation. “I get it, you’ve got a lot on your plate. Give me a break, ok? I just found out that dad …” I stopped short, realizing what I was saying as I was saying it. I could feel the emotion rise, but I forced it down.
“I … I’m sorry I didn’t call you myself,” Tyler replied, his tone softening considerably. “I probably should have, it’s just … I didn’t want to.”
“It’s ok,” I said soberly. “Doesn’t matter, I know now.”
It was the strangest feeling in the world and it didn’t feel real to me. I felt as though I had just lost my bearings, yet I was still expected to continue as though everything was normal. Dad, my dad, was dead, and that didn’t make sense, not in the slightest. He was the strongest man I knew: tall, wiry, and tough as nails. He was the reason that I had joined the Navy in the first place.
I remembered when Tyler and I were still boys; we
would sneak into mom and dad’s room and take out the uniform that dad had hung up in their wardrobe. It was crisp and clean, always well pressed and always impressive. We would fight over who would get to wear it when we got older. Tyler always won because he claimed that since he was older, he would get taller faster than I would and he would be able to fit into the uniform sooner.
He had been wrong about that in the end. I was the one who had ended up taller and I was the one who had ended up in the Navy like dad. I never did get to try on his uniform though; I got my mine and somehow that meant more to me. It was nice to have accomplished something on your own; it was nice to have something that was completely yours.
“How did it happen?” I asked reluctantly. I wanted to know everything and yet I didn’t. It was as though hearing the details would make it real somehow and I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to be real just yet.
“It was a stroke,” Tyler replied, his voice dulled to a whisper and I knew it was painful for him to talk about it.
“A stroke?” I repeated. “Is that what the doctor said?”
“Apparently his heart was only working fifty percent,” Tyler went on.
“Fifty percent?” I exclaimed. “How on earth did that slip through the cracks?”
“You know dad,” Tyler said tiredly. “After he retired from the Navy, he basically retired from his checkups too. If he ever got sick, he self-medicated and then he’d get better. No one ever knew that his heart had gotten so weak.”
“Didn’t he get tired easily?” I asked trying to keep the note of accusation from my tone. “Wasn’t it hard for him to do chores around the house?
“Of course,” Tyler replied. “But I just assumed it was because he was ageing. “And he did too.”
“You should have checked,” I said before I could stop myself.
There was a beat of silence on the other end. “Or maybe, Dylan, you should move back home and take care of everything and I’ll just gripe and complain and judge everything you do and say: how does that sound?”
“It was a pretty big thing to miss, Tyler,” I retorted, unable to back down from this. “His heart was working only fifty percent.
“Dad was sixty-three-years-old,” Tyler shot back. “And he’d served for twenty-five years; he was entitled to be tired. His whole life was tiring. I never thought there was another reason why he was so … exhausted all the time.”
I gritted my teeth to keep from saying something I would regret later. Tyler and I hadn’t always had a difficult relationship. As boys, we had gotten along pretty great. Then adolescence kicked in and the five-year age gap between us became more obvious. We drifted in those years, and when I enlisted and moved away, there was no opportunity to bridge the distance that had been created.
“Are you coming for the funeral?” Tyler asked abruptly.
“I’ll have to speak to my captain and ask for leave,” I replied.
“Is that a yes or a no?” Tyler asked and again, I had to bite back the annoyance.
“My next deployment is in three months,” I replied. “It shouldn’t be a problem to get leave.”
“You’re being deployed again?” Tyler asked after a moment.
“Yes.”
“Where to?”
“I think it’s going to be Japan this time.”
“Is this the first time you’ve been there?” Tyler asked, his tone changed slightly and I couldn’t quite place it.
“I’ve been before,” I replied. “This will be the second time.”
“I guess I’ll see you soon then,” Tyler said stiffly. “If you get leave.”
“I’ll get leave,” I said with confidence.
Tyler hung up without a goodbye but I clutched on to the phone as though he were still there. The silence was suddenly unbearable. It left room for every terrible thought to sneak into my consciousness and start causing havoc. I wished more than anything that I had been there. I wasn’t delusional enough to believe that my being there would have made a difference, but I simply wanted a little more time with my dad.
It was strange to think that a part of the reason I had joined the Navy was to be closer to Dad. In the end it was the thing that had kept me away from my family all these years. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and headed for the offices where the captain would be. It was time for me to go home.
Chapter Six
Elizabeth
“Hi, Maddie,” I waved as I spotted her at our usual booth nestled by the window.
Saturday morning breakfasts had become a tradition for us. We always occupied the same booth, and more often than not, we ordered the same breakfast too. I slipped into the seat opposite Maddie and she gave me a bright smile.
“I’m so glad the weekend’s here,” Maddie said with a sigh.
“Me too,” I agreed. “Have you ordered yet?”
“Yup,” Maddie nodded. “The usual, and I asked for some fresh orange juice for the table.”
“Sounds great,” I said and leaned back in my seat.
“What’s wrong?” Maddie asked immediately.
That was the thing about being best friends since kindergarten; you just knew things about one another. It was like a sixth sense. “Paul came into the bar again last night,” I said tiredly.
“You’re kidding me?” Maddie said with outrage. “He really needs to get a life.”
I rested my face against my hand and shook my head. “It was worse than usual.”
Maddie raised her eyebrows. “Worse how?”
“He got into a fight with one of the other customers.”
“No way,” Maddie said leaning in. “What started the fight?”
I scrunched my face up with distaste. “There was this guy at the bar that I started talking to. I guess Paul saw us talking and got jealous. He came over in a huff and basically told Josh to stay away from me.”
Maddie’s eyebrows rose even higher. “Now men are getting in fights over you; that’s impressive.”
“Don’t make jokes,” I said. “It was so damn embarrassing.”
“What happened?”
“A bunch of the guys broke it up and then Josh stormed out,” I said without much detail. “Then I stormed out because I couldn’t stand looking at Paul anymore.”
“Was he cute?”
“Paul?” I asked incredulously.
Maddie rolled her eyes at me. “The other guy … Josh?”
“Oh right. He was … cute.”
Maddie smiled. “Was he asking you out?”
I hesitated. “He might have been …”
“ Fucking Paul,” Maddie exclaimed. “He ruined it, didn’t he?”
“Completely,” I nodded. “It’s so unfair. I divorced him because I wanted to be free of him, but I see him more now than when we were married.”
“Did you see Josh again after that?”
“Of course not,” I said. “And I doubt I will. He’s going to get the hell out of this town as fast as he can and honestly, I don’t blame him.”
Before I could continue, Cameron showed up with our breakfasts. He was a massive man with an affinity for bright shirts and brighter smiles. “Here we go ladies,” he said as he set down the plates in front of us. “Pancakes and sausages for you, Maddie, and waffles and eggs for you, Elizabeth.”
He brought us our juice, gave us his customary parting wink, and whirled off in the direction of his other diners, leaving us to return to our conversation.
“Don’t worry,” Maddie said. “There’ll be other guys.
“Other guys?” I repeated incredulously. “This is Bastrop we’re talking about Maddie. There are no eligible guys around town and everyone half decent is already taken.”
Maddie sighed. “I can’t argue there. But you never know; sometimes life can surprise you. Maybe the next guy who walks through that door will be Ryan Gosling searching for true love.”
I laughed. “Ryan Gosling is taken.”
“What?” Maddie gasped. “No he’s not.”
“Trust me,” I replied. “He’s not looking.”
Maddie sighed in disappointment. “Well that sucks.”
We tucked into our breakfast, enjoying the comfortable ease of our conversation. My waffles were gorgeous and crispy, but my eggs needed a little more salt. The customary salt and peppershakers that usually adorned each table were absent, so I rose to get some.
“I’m going to get some salt,” I told Maddie. “You want anything?”
She didn’t, so I walked up to the counter just as the door to the diner opened and Tyler Thomas walked in. I smiled at him, but he seemed so preoccupied with something that he totally missed the gesture. As he came closer, I realized he seemed a little paler than usual and there were dark circles under his eyes. He came up to the counter beside me and signaled to Helen.
“Hi, Helen,” he said croakily. “Can I get four, ham-stuffed bagels to go?”
“Sure, honey,” she replied.
“Hi, Tyler,” I said grabbing his attention.
He turned to me and nodded. “Oh … hi, Elizabeth. Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
“Are you ok?” I asked with concern. “You seem a little out of sorts.”
“Ah, you haven’t heard,” Tyler said.
“Heard what?” I asked in confusion.
“Dad passed away yesterday.”
“What?” I exclaimed, taken back by the revelation. “I … how …?”
“Stroke,” Tyler replied tiredly, as though he were sick of having to repeat the same thing over and over again. I couldn’t believe that Mr. Thomas was dead. There was something so … strong about him. He was the kind of man that you assumed would live to a ripe old age and outlive all his friends. Immediately, Dylan’s face popped into my head and I wondered how he had taken the news.
“Oh God, Tyler,” I said. “I am so, so sorry. That must have been a terrible shock.”
“It was,” Tyler nodded.
“When is the funeral?”
“In a few days,” Tyler replied. “I hope you can be here.” The words sounded rehearsed, as though he had already repeated it a few times already and I knew instinctively that I was probably the fifth or sixth person he had said that to today.