Shattered Dreams

by Brenda Kennedy

  “Em, if you need anything, I want you to ask my dad or your dad. Don’t be afraid to ask them; they will want to help you. And please, tell James how much I love him.”

  “I love you,” I say, trying to memorize every word he says.

  “I love you, always and forever?” He smiles at me.

  “Forever and always,” I correct.

  I wake up to the sound of people talking. I look at Max’s side of the bed and it is untouched; he hasn’t been here. The pain in my chest tells me that Max is gone. I have no idea how much time has passed since I heard the devastating news of Max’s death. I remember Max visiting me in my dream and I close my eyes and try to remember what he was saying to me. I hear the sound of faint footsteps outside my bedroom door.

  “Emma?”

  I don’t answer, I don’t want to see anyone. The door creaks as someone opens it. I close my eyes and act like I’m still asleep. I just want to be left alone.

  “Emma?” Max’s mother says in a sad voice.

  I slowly roll over and the devastation is apparent on her face. Her eyes are dark and swollen and without sparkle. She is carrying a tray of food.

  “Emma, I brought you some soup.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Sweetie, you have to eat. Please try to eat some soup.”

  Brooke slowly walks into the room carrying James. My heart breaks a little bit more, if that is even possible. James sees me and let out a squeal. My son, our son, I think to myself.

  I sit up straighter in bed and reach my arms out for James. I smile for the first time in … I have no idea how long, hours, days, I’m not sure.

  “Emma, you need to eat, if you want to continue to nurse him,” Cheryl says.

  “You’re right. How long has it been?” I say taking my too-happy son from Brooke.

  “Just a day.”

  Just a day? I think. I feel years older.

  “I’ll feed him first, then I’ll try to eat something. Thank you.” James latches on quickly and I realize how much I have missed bonding with him. His daddy is gone and he will never know him. Both our lives have changed and he doesn’t even know it.

  “Your parents are at the airport; Danny went to pick them up.”

  I nod because I can’t say anything. I didn’t call them, and I don’t remember anything after hearing the news of Max’s death. I watch James eat and I play with his fuzzy hair. I can see Max in him more and more every day. I am grateful our son will look like his handsome father.

  The next week we prepare for Max’s memorial. His parents needed to identify his body after it arrived from the Middle East. I went with them to the morgue, but I couldn’t bring myself to go back with them to identify him. The military informed us about the condition of Max’s body in an attempt to prepare us for the worse.

  Brooke was a huge help. She cooked and cleaned, and she kept James for me when I couldn’t climb out of my own personal hell to tend to his needs. I remember people in and out of the duplex, but I can’t remember who and what was said. I remember lots of food, flowers, and cards. I also remember feeling alone and isolated in a room full of family and friends.

  The memorial service in Fort Drum was very decorative. All the military was dressed in their dress blues. There was a 21-gun salute and a release of three white doves, as requested by his mother.

  Brice

  “Stay here, I’m going in,” Greyson states.

  “We’re going in, too,” I say, following close behind him.

  “Stand down and cover me, Jamison.”

  “Greyson, darn it. We are all going in. We are in this crap together.”

  “I said to stand down and cover me, Private. That’s an order.” Sgt. Greyson, yells, ducking while running into the condemned and dilapidated building.

  “Darn it, Greyson, don’t be a freaking hero,” I yell, but he is already out of view. Lanford, Snider, Poland, Mahoney, Wagner, Wilson, and I all stay behind and cover him. We remain still, hidden behind some bushes and look around for the enemy. My heart races and my palms sweat. I swear I can feel my pulse beating in my neck. We wait and after several minutes I decide to go in. “Screw Greyson and his orders. I’m going in, cover me.” I take a step forward and that’s when the explosion goes off. The sound is deafening and the debris from the building hits many of the members in the platoon.

  When the smoke finally clears, I see that the building Max entered is on fire. Someone calls for help on the radio while the other troops administer first aid to those injured. I run into the building that Max entered and stop only when I see his lifeless body. “No!” I scream.

  That is how I remember his death.

  Not we are one week post Greyson’s death and the Army has arranged each of the platoon members to call home. Mahoney was sent to an Army hospital due to the severity of his injuries. They also arranged for us to get some counseling for P.T.S.D.: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. We were all present when Greyson ordered us to stand down so he could enter a condemned building to check for its safety. I will never forget that dreadful day and I will never be able to thank or repay Max Greyson for his selfless actions. If we all had entered that building, none of us would have survived that bomb.

  “Hello, Brice?” Brooke asks on skype.

  “I’m here, Sweetie.”

  “Oh, thank God. Brice, are you all right? Are you coming home? God, I miss you,” she cries.

  “Brooke, I’m ok. I love you, and I miss you and the boys so much.”

  “Are you coming home?”

  “No, Sweetie, we won’t be home. When is Max’s funeral?” I ask, trying to hold in the sobs.

  “Oh, Brice, Max is gone. Emma is a wreck. James won’t even know his dad.” She sniffles.

  “I know, Sweetie. We were there. Do you know when the funeral is for him?”

  “In two days, they are having a memorial for him in two days. It’s so sad. Emma just stares out into space; she doesn’t eat or drink. I want to be there for her, but I don’t know how to be. Are you safe? I just want you to come home.”

  “Sweetie, just being there with her is good enough. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Brooke, my time for skype is up. I love you, and I miss you and the boys so much.”

  “I love you, too. Be safe and hurry home.”

  Chapter Three: Four Years Later

  Emma

  “Emma, this is the last box,” my dad yells from the empty foyer.

  I walk up to him and smile. “That box goes in the kitchen.”

  I follow him through the maze of boxes leading into the kitchen. “That’s everything,” Danny says, following behind us.

  I laugh and say, “I forgot how much stuff we had.” I look around the small three-bedroom, two-bathroom house I just bought.

  After Max’s death, James and I returned to Florida. I have been staying with my parents and have recently graduated college from the University of South Florida College with a degree in business. I decided it was time for me and James to move out and to be on our own. Danny, Cheryl, mom, and dad have been wonderful in helping me with James and for offering emotional support. Without them, I’m not sure I could have done it, or held myself together.

  Max’s death has taken its toll on everyone. He died a hero and we are so proud of that. We later learned that Max volunteered to enter a building to check for its safety before his troops went in. That was when the bomb went off, killing Max instantly. The first year, after his death, is a blur. We had him cremated as he wished and had a memorial for him at Fort Drum, New York, and another memorial for him in his hometown of Sarasota, Florida.

  After Max’s death, I got some insurance money for me and James got money from another insurance policy Max had set up. James will have access to his money on his 21st. birthday. I also got some military benefits because of Max. I banked the money until I knew what I wanted to do with it. Cheryl and mom found this house, and once I saw it, I knew it was perfect for me and James.

  James comes ru
nning up to me with excitement on his face. “Momma, did you see my room?”

  “I did.”

  “Did you see the train in my room?”

  “What?” I ask, looking at Danny and then at my dad.

  “Momma, there’s a big train in my room. It’s on the wall and goes all the way around the room,” James says, pointing to the ceiling and turning around in a circle, indicating where the train is.

  “Really?” I ask, following James into his bedroom. I already know what train he is talking about. I had no idea Danny and my dad had located the train or even had time to put it up. I remember how long it took Max and Danny to place it on the walls in James’ room in our duplex in Fort Drum. Apparently, it took a lot less time than before to set everything up since they already had the train track shelving from our last house.

  I stand at the doorway of James’ room. I am in awe at the train that has been installed on the wall that goes around the entire perimeter of his room.

  “See, momma.”

  I bend down so I can see James face to face. “This is the train your daddy bought for you when you were a baby.”

  “It is?” he asks.

  “It is. Your daddy loved trains and it took your daddy and both your grandpas many hours putting it together and putting it on the walls for you. Daddy loved trains so much that he wanted you to have the best train set ever.”

  “Does it work?” James ask, walking further into his otherwise empty room.

  “James, do you see this light switch?” my dad asks.

  James nods. Dad turns the light switch on and the train slowly begins to move. We all watch as the train travels the perimeter of the room. I smile and my nose begins to tingle as my eyes fill with tears.

  “Momma, it works and I have the best train ever!” James says.

  “Yes, James, I do believe you do.” I look up at dad and Danny. “Thank you,” I mouth.

  “James, you turn it off with this switch here,” Danny says. “Do you want to try it?”

  “Yes, please.” James walks over and turns the switch off, then on. His face lights up when the train starts to move.

  “It’s very important to make sure you turn it off,” my dad adds.

  “Ok, pap. I will.”

  James calls my dad pap and calls Max’s dad granddad. Max called his grandfather granddad, so Danny wanted that name to be carried on. I’m sure Max would have wanted that as well. My dad joked and said he is far too young to be a grandpa so he had James call him pap as soon as he could talk.

  “I need to get the U-Haul returned before they charge us for another day,” my dad says, walking out the door. Danny follows behind him.

  “James, stay here with your grandmas,” I say and then follow my dad and Danny down the hallway through the maze of boxes to the front door. “When did you guys have time to put the train up?” I ask, looking from my dad to Danny.

  “Last night we came back over and searched through the boxes until we found the one with the train. I had the screws and screwdriver in my toolbox in the truck and it didn’t take that long,” my dad says, not looking at me but looking at Danny.

  “That didn’t take that long to put up?” I ask, looking from Danny to my dad again.

  Danny laughs, “No, not really. I was afraid it would take a couple of weeks, so ten hours wasn’t too bad.”

  “Thank you, I know James loves it. I didn’t expect to see the train up and running.” I hug them, my nose tingles, and a tear slides down my cheek.

  “Emma, you don’t need to thank us. I did it for my own selfish reasons, I’m afraid,” Danny admits.

  I understand Danny’s reason for putting up the train set in James’ bedroom so soon. I am certain he did it for James and for Max. That is the first thing Max would have done after moving here.

  “Well, whatever reasons you had, you have made a little boy very happy.”

  I know it’s still hard for us to talk about Max. I have a huge hole in my heart that will never heal. I loved him with my whole heart, and as hard as it is for me, I can’t even begin to imagine Danny and Cheryl’s pain. Max was their only child.

  “We better get going; we’ll pick up some pizza for dinner while we’re out,” dad says.

  “We’ll be right back,” Danny says, walking out the door after my dad.

  I get a cold chill every time Danny says that. “I’ll be right back” were Max’s words he spoke every time he left the house. I don’t even think he realizes Max would say the same thing. Like father, like son. James may say those exact same words one day, too. I walk back down the hall and James is walking through the house with both of his grandmothers. He excitedly points out the shared bathroom and the second bedroom. “You can sleep in here when you come over to visit, and we can share this bathroom.” I smile as I listen to James give the grand tour of the house. “And momma’s room is down here,” James says as he walks his grandmothers down the hallway to the last bedroom. “Momma has her own bedroom. This is her big closet and this is daddy’s closet over there,” James says. “Well, if daddy wasn’t in heaven, this would be his closet.”

  I hear a sniffle and I already know it’s coming from Cheryl. “Who wants pizza for dinner?” I ask, looking directly at James. I know Cheryl will be ok and there is no need to draw attention to her sadness.

  “Me, me,” James says, jumping up and down. We all laugh at his enthusiasm.

  “Good, granddad, and pap went to get us some for dinner. They won’t be long so why don’t you go and wash up?”

  “Ok, momma, be right back.”

  I get another cold chill and shiver. I guess he’ll say it sooner rather than later.

  “Emma, this is going to make a perfect family home for you and James, Max would have loved this house,” Cheryl says, and my mother nods in agreement.

  I look out the large bay window at the lanai and the jungle gym in the backyard. The six-foot-high white vinyl fence separates our yard from the neighbor’s yards. “Thank you. I think so, too. The house is perfect, but the A+ school district only adds to its appeal.”

  After dinner, I ask Danny and Cheryl if James can spend the night with them. They are excited to have him and he is excited to stay. “I appreciate it. I want to try to get some of these boxes unloaded. Four years in storage, I’m almost afraid of the condition some of this stuff will be in.”

  “Honey, do you want some help? I’ll be glad to stay and help you,” my mom offers.

  “No, but thank you. So many memories are packed away in those boxes, and I think I need to do it alone. You know, ‘face my fears,’ as they say.”

  “I understand. If it becomes too much or you decide you want some help, call me.”

  “Call me, too, Emma. I’ll come right over,” Cheryl adds. “I know it won’t be easy. I still haven’t been through everything of Max’s at the house. I miss him so much.”

  My nose tingles and I rub it to make it stop. “Me, too, Cheryl, I miss him every day. I would give anything to have him here with us.”

  After everyone leaves, I head to the grocery store to get some food for the new house, but mostly I need some Gain and Downy to wash the blankets that have been in storage for the last four years. I head home and smile at the quaint little white house with yellow shutters that sits at the end of the cul-de-sac road. Our new house. It’s not on the beach, but it’s close enough for James and me to walk there. I go into the lonely house and turn on all of the lights. Since Max’s death, I don’t like to be in the dark. My life was filled with darkness, and I don’t want to go there again. I turn on some country music and sit on the floor in the living room.

  I open the first box, and memories that I didn’t know I had come rushing back to me. I remove the shadow box that holds the neatly folded flag that draped Max’s casket. Even though we had Max cremated, his parents wanted to show him first. I run my fingers along the edge and gently touch it. I cry silent tears and wipe them away.

  My phone rings and I am grateful fo
r the distraction. I look at the number and I am excited to see it’s from Brooke.

  “Hey,” I answer as cheerfully as I can.

  “Hey, yourself, how’s the house?”

  “Great — empty, but it’s great.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asks and I wonder how she can tell something is wrong.

  “You know, going down memory lane.”

  “Emma, who is there with you?”

  “No one, I need to do this myself.”

  “I’m coming down there for a visit,” she says, sternly.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Hold on,” she says, and I can hear her talking in the background. “Brice, get on line and get me a ticket to Sarasota, Florida, ASAP.”

  “For when?”

  “For yesterday. Geesh … for tonight, if you can.”

  “Brooke?” I say.

  “What?”

  “You are not coming down here.”

  “They have one leaving out in the morning at 6:00 am,” Brice says, in the background.

  “Brooke, you can’t take the kids out of school.”

  “I know that. I need a vacation, so I’m coming alone. Hold on.”

  “Brice, book it.”

  “For how long?”

  “For a week and call your parents and tell them you’ll need a sitter for the boys.”

  “Brooke, you do not need to come down here.”

  “Yes, I do. I need a vacation and you live in Florida. It has my name written all over it.”

  “It’s booked, you’re all set,” Brice yells.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she giggles.

  “Yay, I get to see my best friend,” I say with a big grin to my face.

  “I gotta go so I can pack. I’ll text you when I land. According to Brice, I’ll be there at 11:15am.

  “Ok, sounds good.”

  “Emma?”

  “What?”

  “Stay out of the boxes that say ‘Max,’ we’ll go down memory lane together.”

  I look at the boxes; some have written on them ‘Max,’ some ‘Emma,’ and some ‘James.’

  “How do you know the boxes say ‘Max’ on them?”