In the Stillness(6)

The next thirty minutes are seared into my brain in snippets as people ran in and out of the library.

“Was it a passenger plane?”

“Oh, it was a plane in one of the towers, not between them. Shit, another plane just crashed into the second tower.”

“This is no accident.”

“Guys, a plane just hit the Pentagon, and apparently one has gone down somewhere else.”

“This is an attack.”

“We’re going to war.”

“Holy shit! One of the towers fell!”

Without permission, I grabbed my bag and ran from the library, got into my car, and sped along the curves of 116 straight to Ryker’s dorm. I didn’t even have a cell phone yet. I didn’t call my parents, I didn’t call my friends; I just drove straight to Ryker.

Amherst was a total shitshow, as usual when anything even mildly political happens. People were crying on the sidewalk, asking questions and clutching cell phones. I sprinted up the steps to Ryker’s dorm building. I ran down the hallway, and before heading up the stairs I saw him; he was with his friends and suite mates in the common area watching the news.

“Ryker,” I said just a hair above a whisper.

He’d been sitting with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, staring intently at the TV. When he heard my voice, his head whipped around and he sprang to his feet and jogged toward me. As soon as our bodies connected, I started crying. I’d listened to the news on the car radio the whole drive over. There were millions more questions than answers still, but all the answers were bad. Really bad. I saw Lucas out of the corner of my eye, which struck me as odd since his school was a half hour away.

“It’s gonna be okay, Nat,” he whispered in my ear.

Up until that moment we’d been having great sex, laughing at Lucas’s lame attempts to pick up women, and having a genuine good time together. That moment sealed us together in ways I still can’t describe. At the time, I thought he was telling me I’d be okay. That we would collectively be okay. It wasn’t until he was over there that I realized he had been preparing me for what was to come.

*

My cell phone rings, cosmically protecting me from the rest of that memory. For now.

“Hello?” I sniff and run a finger under my eye.

“Nat? You okay? You sound like you’re crying.”

“Eric, please don’t call me Nat.”

Especially not today.

“Sorry. Just checking in.”

Seriously? I get a whole day to myself and he has to call me? The war-cries of 4-year-old boys in the background are the real reason for the call.

“It’s gorgeous out, Eric, why don’t you take the boys to a playground. Let them run that out. Hell, take them down to the football field for all I care. I gotta go.” Annoyed, I click the phone off and stare at the polished granite.

Lucas J. Fisher

“I wish you hadn’t died, you know.” I sit cross-legged six feet above his body. “I haven’t been here in a long time, and I’m sorry. I just . . . you know . . . well, you don’t because you weren’t here.” A sound just above a mew leaves my throat as tears roll down my neck. “Ryker lost it when you died, Lucas. Anyone else, it could have been anyone else and none of this would have happened! Why’d he have to see it all?” I slam my palms into the warm grass and dig my nails into the dirt.

Ryker watched as Lucas’s Humvee exploded under firefight right before his eyes in Afghanistan. By the time Ryker got to him, it was too late; the boy I loved held the charred body of his best friend—then got shot in the back. That was his ticket home. His body came home, but his soul had been devoured in the firefight of a godless desert.

I sigh and run my hand over the information on Lucas’s headstone. His name, his rank, and the dates he laughed and lived are all there.

Loving Son.

Best Friend.

My eyes focus on the date of his death, causing me to check my cell phone.

“You’re kidding,” I half-yell into the grass. “Ten years? Yesterday? You died ten years ago yesterday?”

A chill shoots up my spine as the wind picks up, an answer from Lucas perhaps. I can’t believe it’s been ten years since Ryker’s mom called me for the first time.

I’ve gotta get out of here.

I carefully time my return home for after I know the boys are in bed. The apartment is in shambles, as to be expected when Eric’s at the helm. My eyes survey the mess, and I decide to start picking up the toys off the living room floor while Eric stands with his back to the counter.

“Don’t worry about it, hon. Just go read or take a bath or something; I’ll clean up.”

“K.” I sigh.

As I walk past Eric, he sticks out his arms for a hug. He does this a lot, just opens up and expects me to fall into him. When I look up at him, about to blow him off, I suddenly see the twenty-three-year-old on the sidewalk wearing a tattered Redskins hat. I walk into his hug and he seems to sigh in relief.

He rests his chin on my head. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

I can’t lie to the boy on the sidewalk. “I went to Lucas’s grave today.”

Eric’s muscles tighten as he pulls away and holds me at arms-length. I swear I see his eyes dart to my left arm for a split second, but I don’t pull it away in defense, just in case. There’s no way he made that connection.