“Jess,” I say his name, my own eyes threatening tears just watching him break down in front of me.
“No!” I hear my mom’s voice yell behind me. My head whips around in time to see her collapse against my dad’s chest. She’s crying hysterically, his shirt clutched in her fingers. My dad holds her, his head bowed, while the other Marine talks to them in low voices.
“What’s wrong?” My voice catches in my throat. It burns. A pain in my chest starts, as if an invisible hand has reached through my skin to grip my heart and squeeze.
“Colt.” Jess’s hands rise up to hold my shoulders. Tears flow down his cheeks and he makes no move to hide them. “Alex was on a mission to help some of our friends. They were ambushed. Alex didn’t make it. He’s gone.”
“No.” I shake my head. My eyes sting and my nose turns warm. “He’s a good soldier, he wouldn’t die.”
“I’m sorry, buddy,” Jesse keeps saying even while I shake my head. “He was the best soldier, he’s a hero.”
Hero. Alex is my hero. He can’t leave me. He has a son. What about my mom? What about my dad? How are we supposed to move past this? All he wanted was to save people who couldn’t save themselves. He was so sure every time he left that he knew what he was doing. He had a cause he believed in. He did a job not many would volunteer to take, knowing he could pay the ultimate price. My ten-year-old mind can’t put into words the anger and aggression that rises inside my body. Jesseunderstands it, though. He tugs me to him, holding on with both arms, while I shake and sob into his shoulder. My tears bleed into the blue material of his jacket and over the patches that cover his chest. He never stops holding me. He never stops telling me that my brother was a hero, a good man, and that he fought until his last breath to save innocent lives. That he loved me. That I was his best friend, too.
My eyes flick up briefly, over Jesse’s shoulder, and clash with the bluest pair of eyes I’ve ever seen. Her bottom lip trembles while she watches the scene in front of her. In that moment, tears slide down her cheeks as if she’s silently mourning with me. I don’t know what it is about her. I should be mad. She’s a stranger and watching one of the most painful experiences of my life. Something about the way her eyes hold mine, though, makes that painful grip on my heart ease a little.
A month passes before we are able to have Alex’s funeral. His body was returned stateside and brought home to Tennessee. Another week passed while everyone was notified when his service would be. “Honoring Those Who Served” is the running theme around our house and town today. Mom bought me an all-black suit to wear; it itches my neck like crazy. Dad tells me not to argue with her today, so I keep out of the house and out of her way. A car picks us up to drive us to the church where the closed casket sits at the front of the pews. An American flag is draped over it and a few of Alex’s friends stand off to the side, all dressed in their blues.
I pick Jesse out first. The minute he notices me, I glance away, unsure if I’ll ever be able to face him again. I cried into his shoulder like a baby instead of the ten-year-old I am. I’membarrassed. Much to my relief, he nods at our family as we make our way to the front where the reserved seats are. A low murmur of voices chatter in the crowd. Occasionally a small sob breaks out. A baby whimpering causes my head to turn. Caitlyn is holding AJ in his carrier and sits next to my mom. I notice the way my mom’s body goes stiff and my brow rises. It’s not like her not to immediately reach for AJ anytime he’s in her proximity. I turn to my dad who has his eyes locked on the casket. He’s sitting stiff, his expression the same as the past month. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t frown or laugh or cry. The minute he heard about Alex, it’s as if a mask slipped into place, and all emotion left his body.
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 20 mph 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.
At the cemetery 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 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 on to 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 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 finishmiddle school there. My mom is a new teacher there, too. My dad teaches at the public high school, though.”
I nod my head with 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 jumps for my bike too,” she says, taking me completely off guard. I shift my feet, not sure how Zane would react if Lyric came 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.
