A Thousand Letters(26)

And then he moved on to Elliot, prompting a discussion that led her to mention that her father had come to town. She kept her eyes trained on Dad, but I knew she was as aware of me as I was of her.

The urge to get up and leave the room climbed on top of me and squeezed until it was almost unbearable — the last thing in the world I wanted to even hear whisper of was her father, or her sisters, for that matter.

Seven years gone, and that wound still hadn't fully healed.

I took a breath, trying to be still and quiet while I dismantled an M4 carbine rifle in my head and reassembled it. It was a trick I'd acquired a long time before, after long nights in Afghanistan when sleep escaped me. The repetition, the imagined motion hypnotized me, quieted my mind. Like counting to a hundred, except it made me feel safer.

The doorbell rang, interrupting the conversation that felt like a lie, a charade, and frustration twisted through me. I jumped at the chance to escape, standing to excuse myself. I opened the door to find Lou and my aunt Jeannie.

My aunt's composure was thin, and it broke when she saw me, nearly breaking mine along with it. She looked like my mother, though a little bit older, a little bit different. She had the same dark hair and hazel eyes, the same smile, her appearance close enough that I imagined for a split second that it was Mom. I wondered fleetingly what she'd do if she were there, wondered what she'd say. She always knew just what to say.

My throat closed as she pulled me into a hug, standing on her tiptoes to reach around my neck as sobs shook her body against me.

"I'm so sorry, honey. So sorry," she whispered shakily.

I said nothing. If I spoke, I'd lose hold of myself completely.

She pulled away after a long moment, wiping tears from her cheeks. "How is he?"

I ran a hand over my mouth and swallowed hard. "He's okay. Come on in."

She cupped my cheek like I was a little boy as she passed, and I was about to turn to follow her when Lou leapt into my arms, surprising me.

"I'm so sorry. I just … I hope you're all right, Wade," she said, lips near my ear, voice sincere. "I'm always here for you if you need me."

I let her go, though she hung on a second longer, sighing sadly as she took my arm. We made our way into the house together, the physical connection of her hand in the crook of my elbow, confusing me. She seemed upset, and I wondered if this was just how she was dealing with it or if she was making a pass at me. I had to think it was the former — the latter seemed ludicrous by comparison.

I broke away from her once we entered the room, though not quickly enough for Elliot to have missed it. Color rose in her cheeks, her eyes full of regret and apology and pain before they darted away, finding Jeannie across the room.

Jeannie smiled at Dad and made a joke that elicited a relieved laugh, but the look on his face said he saw my mother too. It was something we'd always said — everyone who knew the two women noted their similarities — but now, knowing he'd be gone soon … the longing for her was a physical presence in the room.

Everyone in America could tell you where they were that day. Sophie and I were in elementary school, sitting together in the gym with all the other terrified kids as we wondered what had happened and why the adults were crying. Sadie was just a baby, at home with our nanny. Dad was in class, lecturing on Dickenson. And Mom was at work at the Trade Center.

She'd called Dad from the stairwell to say goodbye as the building burned and crumbled. I'd imagined that conversation thousands of times, what she said, what he'd said, her final words. But he'd never been able to tell us. He'd tried, but he could never form the words, never pass them on to us without the act breaking him down. So instead he would pull us into his arms and whisper, She loved you more than anything, and that love will never die.

I dreamed about her every night for nearly two years. Sometimes she'd be running down the stairs and the building would fall. I could see her pain, feel it, the nightmare waking me with her name on my lips. Sometimes in my dreams she would just disappear, vanish in the middle of some mundane task. Sometimes she held me and whispered in my ear with a warm, sweet breath that she was okay. She told me that she loved me. She said it didn't hurt.

And so I decided at age ten that I was going to join the Army. I would protect all the moms from dying, all the dads from hurting, all the kids from losing their parents. It was all I wanted, until I met Elliot.

I blinked back tears at the memory, the moments piling on higher and higher. There were all of a sudden too many people in the room. Too many things to say. It wasn't real, nothing was real or meaningful. Life was cruel, and we were caught in the web of it, helpless.

I turned to leave the room, breath shallow, needing air, needing clarity. Needing solitude. "Gonna go for a walk," I muttered to the room as I passed Lou.

"I'll go with you," she offered, and I couldn't say no. Literally, I couldn't speak, couldn't refuse, couldn't explain myself if she argued, so I just grabbed my jacket and walked out with her on my heels.

It was cold and gray, the winter sky pressing down on me as I hurried down the sidewalk toward Central Park.

Lou didn't speak, and neither did I, though I cursed her name in my mind, wishing for a second's peace, wishing for a way to stand my ground against the onslaught of emotions. I couldn't control myself, couldn't control the situation. I had no leverage, no purchase. I had nothing.