Looking around, I saw Laurel’s greenhouse. I saw kids running around, squealing with laughter. I saw Laurel lying poolside. I saw her pressed up against the shower wall.
I saw her everywhere. I saw her in everything.
Then, I saw my hands, cradling her face, a memory from just three months ago.
“You can have anyone and anything you want. Why are you still fighting for me?”
“Because you’re not anyone or anything… You’re everything.”
I left my second therapy session with Dr. Michael Lopez feeling a bit lost. When I told him about my experience at the property today, imagining Laurel and our life together, I expected him to respond with some psychobabble. It’s easy to imagine Laurel in your life because that’s all you’ve imagined for the last eight years. But his actual response left me even more confused than when I stepped into his office.
“Love cannot be forced. Love is effortless. That is why a person in love will often describe it as being swept away. It takes no effort to fall in love. Falling out of love is an entirely different story. It requires a lot of effort and, more importantly, a lot of good, solid reasons. You are expecting to fall out of love with your wife just because you have a reason. You believe your wife betrayed you, but you are not even sure if the betrayal was intentional. So your reason is not solid.” He tilted his head to the side, a gesture I was beginning to realize was his tell. Whenever he was about to make a point he thought would be met with resistance, he tilted his head. “You need to decide if it is more important to be righteous or to be in love.”
I arrived home a few minutes later and immediately took a hot shower. Afterward, I grabbed a beer and fixed myself a ham sandwich, which was nowhere as good as the ham sandwiches Laurel would make. Taking a seat at the dining table, I opened up the email app on my phone and stopped mid-bite when I saw Laurel’s name appear in my inbox.
I read the email quickly, then I read it again to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. The apology was expected, as was the suggestion that we both needed to accept responsibility for the roles we’d played in the breakdown of our marriage. But the information about her sonogram appointment, and the request for me to be there, split me open. It tore me apart to think that she wasn’t absolutely certain I’d be there for the baby.
I exited the email app and stared at the phone until my sandwich went stale. Then, I finally made the call.
“Hello?” she was breathless, as if she’d been running before she answered the call. “Jack?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I got your email.”
We were both silent for a while. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but I knew Laurel enough to know what she was doing. When I used to travel a lot, in the first couple of years after I started Halo, she used to ask me to call her so we could put each other on speakerphone as we went about our day. It put her at ease and made her feel close to me. It was often the only way she could get to sleep when I was gone. That was how I knew that she wasn’t waiting for me to speak. She was just listening.
“I’ll pick you up and take you to the ultrasound appointment,” I finally said.
“Oh,” she replied, then took a long pause, probably reading too much into the fact that I said I’d pick her up, which implied we wouldn’t be back together by then. “Okay. Are you sure? I don’t mind driving myself.”
“Laurel—”
“I mean, I know you’re busy with the new business and… everything. I really don’t mind driving.”
“Laurel, I’m not going to let you drive there. I remember what you were like during Junior’s first ultrasound.”
She let out a congested laugh. “I had to pee so bad.”
I smiled as I remembered how worried she was that she was going to pee all over the examination table. “The last thing we need is for some asshole to cut you off in traffic and literally scare the piss out of you. That would be really bad for the Tesla.”
She gasped. “Really bad for the Tesla?”
“Take it easy, pixie. I’m only teasing you.”
We were both silent as I thought about how easily the word “pixie” had rolled off my tongue. How natural it was to tease her. How much I loved her reactions to being teased.
Dr. Lopez was right. The reasons I had for falling out of love with Laurel were shaky. But my heart didn’t care about reason. My heart considered getting back together with Laurel a risk that needed to be weighed carefully. But right now, all I wanted was to keep teasing her so I could hear that stunning laugh.
We chatted a bit longer. It was almost midnight when I reluctantly decided I needed to put an end to the conversation, before either of us began to get our hopes up.
“You need to get your sleep,” I said, wondering if I should end the call with a promise to pick her up in a couple of weeks, for her next prenatal appointment. It sounded cold to end a perfectly good conversation with a promise not to speak again for half a month.
“Yeah, I’m usually asleep by now,” she replied. “I’ve been pretty tired.”
I wanted to offer to help her out with the app she was working on, but I had to keep my distance until I figured out what I was going to do. It just came so easily, the idea that I had to help her in whatever she did.
She was my partner in everything. My fucking best friend. And here I was wondering if I could even offer to help her. This whole situation was so fucked.
“Goodnight, Laurel.”
She let out a soft whimper. “I’m sorry. I was really trying not to cry. I just… I miss you so much.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “I know.”
“And when you call me Laurel it… it actually hurts. It feels like I’m talking to a stranger, but we’re the furthest from strangers two people can get. You know me, Jack. You know me better than anyone. I would never hurt you intentionally. Please tell me you know that.”
I shook my head as I gripped the arm of the dining chair to keep from grabbing my beer bottle and hurling it across the room. “Of course I fucking know that, which is why it hurts so much. You lied to me. Do you know what that’s like? It’s like finding out the person you love most in the world is a fucking stranger.”
“Jack, please—”
“I have to go. I don’t want to upset you. Goodnight.”
“Wait, Jack.”
“What?” I shot back, much harsher than I intended. “I’m sorry. What is it?”
She was quiet for a long while, then she let out a deep sigh. “Nothing. Goodnight.”
Chapter 8
Isaac
Thanksgiving used to be my favorite holiday. Dane and I once pulled a pretty fantastic identical twin prank on my mom. First thing Thanksgiving morning, eleven-year-old Dane told my mom he felt sick to his stomach. Claimed he couldn’t eat anything. On top of all the other food my mom was cooking, she also took the time to make him some chicken soup, which he left on his nightstand untouched.
When it was time to eat, I gorged myself on turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, baked ham, corn on the cob, candied yams, pumpkin pie, pecan pie. I even had a large helping of my Aunt Glenda’s weird gelatin dessert. My cousins cheered me on as if I were training for an eating competition.
I then excused myself to use the restroom, but I really went to Dane’s bedroom. He got dressed in my clothes. I put on his pajamas and slipped into his bed. He went to the dining room and proceeded to gorge himself on turkey and all the fixings. My mom kept urging him to pace himself, but he hadn’t eaten anything all day, so he really packed it in. The whole family watched in awe. By the time I came out of the bedroom and we revealed the trick, my mom was ready to tackle Dane to get him to stop eating.
Thanksgiving was never the same without my brother. In the two and a half years I spent mostly overseas during my three tours, I missed three family Thanksgivings. Of course, after my last tour, I didn’t stick around very long after finding out about Dane and Nicole.
I hadn’t spent Thanksgiving with my family
in six years. I’d never spend another Thanksgiving with Dane. It didn’t feel like I had much to be thankful for today.
As I helped my mom set the dining table with the white plates with the tiny pink roses my mom used when we had company, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
“Is that Emily?” my mom asked as I glanced at my phone.
I shook my head. “It’s my VA social worker. I have to take this,” I replied, bringing the phone to my ear. “How’s it going, Harry?”
“Happy Thanksgiving, Evans,” Harold said in his Texas accent. “I hope I’m not interrupting your festivities.”
“Not at all. Do you have good news for me?”
He cleared his throat. “Well, the nearest facility that does PET is the VA Medical Center in Minneapolis. They operate under the Combat Veteran authority program, which will assign you a priority number based on need. Your priority number will be low because you’re not considered low-income.”
“Does that mean they’ll reject me?”
Harold sighed. “It means you’ll probably get bumped down the waitlist in favor of someone with a higher priority number. The rationale is that if you have money, you can get prolonged exposure therapy anywhere.”
“But the PET program at the VA is better. The military docs know what we’ve been through a hell of a lot better than civilian shrinks.”
“I know it seems that way. And that might actually be true, but you have to understand that the VA is overloaded with these requests and there are only so many doctors. They have to assign priority to those who can’t afford to get help elsewhere.”
“What’s wrong?” my mom asked.
I shook my head and took a few steps away until I was in the hallway just outside the dining room. “I understand. Thanks, Harry. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“You too. Call me if you need anything, anything at all.”
“I will.”
I slipped the phone into the pocket of my jeans and stared at the framed picture on the wall. It was a picture of four-year-old Dane and me on our first bikes with training wheels. We were both wearing blue and white striped T-shirts and red shorts, but my shirt and face were smeared with dirt and my eyes were red.
According to my parents, I had been crying just a moment before the photo was taken because I didn’t want to have the same blue bike as Dane. I was spitting mad that my parents didn’t get me the silver bike. Then, I thought of the raging fight I had with my dad when I told him I was dropping out of college and enlisting. I shook my head as I realized how long I’d been giving my parents grief. It was a wonder they still put up with me.
I finished helping my mom set the table, then I shot Emily a text wishing her a happy Thanksgiving. When Nicole and her new boyfriend Garrett arrived, I still did a double-take when I saw my nephew Ethan. I didn’t know how Nicole was handling Ethan’s confusion. The kid was barely more than two years old. He couldn’t be expected to understand why his daddy, who was in heaven, looked just like his uncle.
“Hey, come here, you,” I said, holding my arms out for Ethan.
He tilted his head and stuck a finger in his nose as he smiled. “Daddy.”
“No, honey, that’s your Uncle Isaac. I told you not to put your finger in your nose,” Nicole said, moving his hand away.
Ethan shook his head and reached up to try put his finger in Nicole’s nose. “Nose,” he said, then he turned to me again. “Daddy.”
I shook my head and took him off her hands as he reached for me. “It’s fine. He’ll figure it out later.” I looked down at Ethan and dodged his finger before he could put it in my nose. “Wanna go say hi to Boomer? Wanna go see the doggie?”
Ethan’s hazel eyes widened and he nodded enthusiastically.
“Is it okay if I take him to see the dog?”
Nicole nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”
“For what?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, for being kind to him. It’s Thanksgiving. I’m supposed to say thanks.”
“Why would I not be kind to my nephew? You know what, forget I asked. You’re welcome.” I turned to her boyfriend, ignoring the elephant in the room, which was that he looked a hell of a lot like Dane and me. “Happy Thanksgiving to both of you.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket as I walked through the foyer and the downstairs hallway to the door leading into the garage. Poor Boomer had been hanging out in the garage since I arrived here about three hours ago. My mom apologetically explained to me that Garrett was allergic to dogs, so we wouldn’t be able to let Boomer in the house until after Nicole left.
Boomer was a tough dog. He didn’t mind getting a little alone time every now and then. When we entered the garage, Boomer yelped with excitement then jumped all over me.
“Boomer, sit,” I commanded him.
He heeded my command, but his butt and tail were still wagging.
I put Ethan down on the ground, but Boomer remained still, waiting for my command. “Break,” I said, and he began sniffing Ethan’s blond hair.
Ethan giggled and I pulled my phone out of my pocket as I watched them greet each other. I smiled when I saw I had a text from Emily.
* * *
Emily:
A very happy Thanksgiving to you too. At least you only have to do this once. My parents are divorced, so I get to endure this madness twice in one day. Pray for me.
* * *
Me:
If you’re feeling lucky, you can try for lucky number three. You’re welcome to drop by anytime. I can be your emergency escape hatch.
* * *
Emily:
You’re my savior. Call me in three hours, and I’ll make an excuse about why I have to leave. If I don’t answer, send in the Coast Guard.
* * *
Me:
You don’t want the coasties coming for you. Your chances of survival are better with me.
* * *
The sound of Boomer’s yelp followed by Ethan crying made me drop my phone. I ran over to pick him up, where he’d fallen on his butt on the concrete floor.
“Are you okay, little fella?” I asked, examining his hands and face for injuries, but all I saw was a tuft of dog hair tangled in his tiny fingers.
The door opened and Nicole rushed into the garage. “Is he okay? Did the dog bite him?”
“I don’t think he’s hurt,” I said, handing Ethan to her. “I’m sorry. I turned away for a minute and I heard Boomer yelp. I think Ethan yanked out some of his fur. But Boomer would never bite him. They were playing.”
“You weren’t paying attention?” she said, wiping the fur off Ethan’s fingers.
The way she said it seemed more like an accusation than a question. Almost as if she was implying I wasn’t fit to care for my nephew.
My dad stepped into the garage. “Is everything okay?”
Nicole turned around and blew past my dad without answering. My dad looked at me questioningly, but I shook my head as I scooped my phone up off the concrete floor.
“Come on, Boomer. Let’s go for a walk,” I said, smiling when his tail wagged furiously. “Can you open the door, Dad?”
My dad nodded and pressed the button on the wall to open the garage door. “Will you be back soon? Your mother says dinner will be ready in about half an hour.”
I nodded and headed out into the still darkness with my furry partner at my side. I took Boomer for a long, leisurely stroll around the neighborhood. We’d been gone for more than an hour, my fingers starting to go a bit numb in the forty-degree weather, before I doubled back.
I crept past the warmly-lit windows on the side of the house as we headed into the backyard, where my parents enjoyed 175 feet of lake frontage. Passing the wrought iron patio set, I continued down the incline toward the boat slip, where I plopped down with my legs dangling off the side of the wooden dock. Boomer lay down next to me, snuggling his big blockhead against my healing thigh, which was smarting a bit in the near-freezing temperature.
“It’s colder than Nic
ole’s heart out here, eh?” I whispered to Boomer, but the sound was muffled by the soft splash of water lapping against the pilings beneath us.
“That bad, huh?”
I whipped my head toward the sound and let out a massive sigh of relief when I saw Emily standing on the dock behind me. “You scared the crap out of me.”
She didn’t miss a beat as Boomer stood up to greet her. “I scared you?” she remarked as she stooped down to scratch Boomer behind the ears. “You stopped responding to my texts. I thought something was wrong.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “You drove all the way out here because I didn’t respond to your text?”
“Well, I called your mom and she said you stormed off onto the cold, mean streets of Stillwater.”
“Mean streets?” I laughed.
She shrugged as she took a seat next to me. “You should know something about me. I worry a lot. I’ve been this way since I was a kid.”
I smiled as Boomer lay next to her, placing his head in her lap. “Well, if that’s the case, then you’re with the right guy, ’cause I’ll give you plenty to worry about. Like, did Isaac really just wake up at four a.m. and make the bed with me still in it? Or, did he really get up in the middle of the night and piss out the window? Is that him sleeping on the floor?”
She narrowed her eyes at me as if she was contemplating my warnings. “Oh, okay. Let me try. Does Isaac really look better in this dress than I do?”
I shook my head. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. You must be a glutton for punishment. Probably why you kept leaving me all those voicemails.”
She smiled as she continued petting Boomer. “Actually, my cousin came back from Iraq with severe PTSD.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”
She shrugged. “Not something I usually share right off the bat. Anyway, he pushed us all away, everyone who cared about him. Then, he threatened his girlfriend and pushed her through a screen door. She tumbled out and damn near fell over a second-floor railing down to a concrete courtyard, while she was pregnant no less.” She stared at the water for a moment as if she was staring into an abyss. “Needless to say, his girlfriend broke up with him and he ended up on the streets because no one in the family would take him in. We were all afraid of him. When he committed suicide, everyone was so outraged. Blaming each other left and right. Hell, I even got in on that nonsense.