#SummerGirl

by Brooks, A. M.

  I try to keep focused on the service. Jesse speaks, Caitlyn speaks, and a man I never met before addresses us all about the type of soldier Alex was. Silent tears stream down my mom’s face the entire time. I fight to keep my own tears from spilling over. They play “Knockin on Heaven’s Door,” and I struggle to picture my brother smiling and laughing with me. I don’t want to think about him closed up in that box. My eyes dart around the room, taking in the ladies patting their eyes with Kleenex and handkerchiefs, and the men with their heads bowed. Almost everyone in town who ever knew Alex and my family is here today. All of our distant relatives, people I haven’t met before, came as well. It’s the most packed I’ve ever seen this church. Caitlyn asked them to play “Leaving On A Jet Plane,” her and Alex’s song since he left for his first deployment, and she sobs uncontrollably. My dad moves for the first time to sit between her and my mom, and Caitlyn collapses into his side. How AJ sleeps through all of this, I have no idea. But I’m relieved that he’ll never remember this.

  After the service, we exit the church and line up at the top of the stairs to shake hands with people as they pass. Sorry for your loss. He was a great kid. Let us know if you need anything. I’ll bring a pie by later. Everyone has something to say in hopes that they’re making my parents feel better. After the last pew is emptied, Alex is carried out the doors and placed into a black hearse. We get in the next car and are driven to Knoxville National Cemetery. Our car never goes over 20mph as we are led through the streets of town by our local police officers. At the highway, they pull off and we pass under a bridge where the fire department has a flag hung as well. I glance out the back window and see a parade of vehicles following ours. My chest tightens from all the emotions I feel but can’t name.

  Seven shots crack the air through the silence. My heart leaps in my chest with each shot. Taps is played by a lone bugler after. As tears continue to slide down my cheeks, they start to feel chapped from the cold air. Everything around us is quiet. The man I didn’t know, who spoke about Alex at the church, stands in front of my mom and hands her a folded flag. He says a few words, but I can’t hear them. Her shoulders shake with every sob she tries to hold in. Then everyone bows their head in prayer for my brother’s soul.

  I barely remember leaving the cemetery. A black sludge fills my chest, shutting down any flicker of happiness inside me. He’s really gone. My best friend, the guy I hoped to be like someday isn’t coming home again. My breath stutters when I try to inhale and my fists clench. I want to hit something. Anger courses through my veins. It’s not fair. I pull away from the arm that’s slung over my shoulder and run to the car. I can’t hold onto the sob in my throat. I want to be alone and away from the hole in the ground where my brother’s casket is being lowered.

  We beat the traffic home, and my mom darts inside to pull out the trays of food that a catering service dropped off earlier. My dad walks slower to the house. As if he can feel my resistance to enter our home, he turns over his shoulder to look back at me.

  “Colt?” he says my name as a question, and I read everything he’s trying to ask. Am I okay?

  “Fine, Dad,” I mumble, kicking a rock with my shoe.

  “Okay,” he mumbles, his hand rubbing over his jaw. He leaves me standing in the middle of our driveway and heads inside the house.

  Chills reach my skin through the material of my suit and I shiver. The sun is already sitting lower in the sky, meaning it will be dark soon. A yellow ribbon wrapped around the tree in our yard blows in the slight breeze. I wrap my arms across my chest and look at the house. I don’t want to go in. It’s not going to be the same. Death and heartbreak are now present. A grief so suffocating that even as a kid, I can feel my throat choking on it.

  “Hey,” I hear a small voice behind me and I turn to look. My eyes widen when they land on hers. I haven’t seen much of her in the past few weeks with everything going on. I found out our first day back that she doesn’t go to my school. I can see now she’s wearing a light blue sweater with the private school’s crest on it.

  “Hi,” I tell her, nodding my head.

  “I’m Lyric,” she says, holding her hand out for me to take. I slide mine into hers, thinking she has to be the most well-mannered ten-year-old I know.

  “Colt,” I say my name, clearing my throat the best I can.

  “It’s sad about your brother.” She looks past me to the yellow ribbon on the tree. “I bet he was a great guy.”

  “He was,” I confirm, my words strong. I like that she isn’t telling me how sorry she is for us.

  She holds my gaze with hers, and I feel heat creep over my cheeks. “So,” I say, breaking her gaze to look away, “you go to the private school? I haven’t seen you in the hallways of mine.”

  Her nose scrunches slightly. “Yup,” she answers, drawing the word out slowly, “I hate it, but my parents say I need to finish middle school there. My mom is a new teacher there, too. My dad teaches at the public high school, though.”

  I nod my head at what she’s saying. I have no idea what to say to her. I’ve never been tongue-tied around anyone, let alone a girl. I usually don’t hang out with girls unless we’re forced to for gym class. Lyric seems cool, though, so I stay where I am.

  “Maybe we can hang out sometime. I saw you jumping bikes. I like to build them for my bike too,” she says, taking me completely off guard. I shift my feet, not sure how Zane would react if Lyric comes rolling up to jump bikes with us tomorrow. I end up nodding my head yes anyway and her smile gives me butterflies. Zane will just have to get over it, I guess.

  “Well, I better head home,” Lyric tells me, her head tilting back toward her house.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “Thanks for coming over.” She smiles again and walks over to her yard. I turn toward my house, noticing people have started to arrive for the meal. I take a mouthful of cold air in my lungs and steel myself before heading inside.

  “Hey Colt!” Lyric calls suddenly, and I turn back to look at her.

  “Yeah?”

  “You know, the Lakota have a saying that a warrior isn’t someone who fights. A warrior is someone who sacrifices himself for the good of others. I didn’t know your brother, but I heard he died protecting innocent people. He was a warrior and a good person. Don’t forget that,” she tells me, before spinning back around and disappearing from my view.

  My mind spins over her words, and I conjure up everything good I can remember about Alex. It’s not likely I’ll ever forget him, but it does make me happy to know everyone else remembers him as not just a soldier who died in battle. He was also a brother, a son, a father, and a fiancé. He was a baseball champion and ate chips on his sandwiches, liked pickles in peanut butter, would only drink the blue Gatorades, and he excelled in English class while he struggled through science. He laughed at everything and he liked my dad’s old rock records. He always looked out for me. I can’t help but think that maybe Lyric being here today is just another way Alex is still watching over me.