“I’m happy for you, too, C. However, I will not spare him on the grilling.”
I laugh. “I think he’s more than man enough to handle it, Dad.”
“So, how did you meet?” my mom asks, elbowing me.
I blush when I tell them. “We met at a pet shop, actually. He was looking for a kitten.”
“Oh, that’s so adorable! You can always trust a man who’s kind to animals,” Mom tells Dad.
I try not to giggle.
Oh, he’s more than just kind…
“Does he know about Ethan?” Dad asks. His fatherly concern over this new man in my life is easy to read.
“He does, Dad. And Charles totally accepts my feelings for Ethan and isn’t threatened by them.”
“It takes maturity to understand such a thing,” my dad replies with an approving smile. “I can’t help but like the guy already. Most men couldn’t handle competing with a ghost.”
I grin as I tell him, “Thankfully, Charles isn’t the jealous type and would never ask me to forget Ethan. It’s part of the reason he’s so darn perfect.”
“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but no one is perfect,” my mom says.
I chuckle, shaking my head in disagreement. “I trust my instincts, Mom. In every way that matters, he’s perfect.”
“Well, you certainly got it right when you picked Ethan,” my dad replies. “The fact is, you wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for his quick thinking and courage.”
I suck in a breath, feeling a fiery stab to my chest.
Ethan’s gone because of me…
No matter how much time passes, I don’t think I will ever get over the guilt.
My mom realizes Dad’s comment has inadvertently hurt me, and she immediately apologizes for him. “Your father didn’t mean to upset you, Cleo.”
“I know.” I give my Dad a sad smile. “No matter how much it hurts sometimes, I don’t want Ethan to be forgotten. Never apologize for mentioning him or sharing a memory. It’s important to me.”
My dad puts his arm around my shoulder and squeezes me against him. “Ethan is and will remain a part of our lives. That will never change—no matter how many years pass.”
I take great comfort in his promise.
Pulling my mother and me into a three-way hug, my dad declares. “This is going to be a Cox Christmas to be remembered.”
I nod excitedly, grateful that Captain will be a part of those memories.
With the mood lightened, Mom takes over my small kitchen to start on the popcorn while Dad has me go through all the films to pick the first movie for our binge.
I choose The Gathering as the official start to this Christmas season. I love the simple heart behind the film. A family broken by events from their past find a way back to each other through the simple magic of the season, bringing them together at a time of impending loss.
I always liked the movie as a teenager, but it means so much more to me now.
“I wish Ethan could have watched this with us,” I mutter, laying my head against my dad’s shoulder. I grab a handful of Mom’s Christmas popcorn from the bowl when she settles down next to me on the couch.
“He’s here,” my mom assures me, placing a small bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. She smiles at my puzzled look and answers, “For Ethan.”
I sigh in approval, holding up a handful of the tasty treat in honor of Ethan.
The three of us watch the beginning of the film in silence, settling into the familiar storyline like a warm blanket. I hold back the tears as the father learns he only has a few months to live. A part of me is jealous he has so much time to say goodbye when Ethan didn’t have any—not even a second.
It’s silly to feel jealous of a character in a movie…but I can’t help it.
“Too much for you?” my mom asks, looking at me with concern.
“C’s just fine,” Dad says. “She picked this movie for a reason.” He pats me on the shoulder as he returns his attention back to the screen.
My mom adjusts her position on the couch and pretends not to worry about me. I know she means well, but her constant fretting only makes me feel worse.
I turn my head toward my father and mouth the word, “Thanks.”
We watch as each person in the family struggles to reconcile, fighting to find a way back to each other. This particular Christmas story has all the feels because the people and their struggles are so real, but it’s the love and strength of their family that prevails.
Tears of gratitude flow down my cheeks at the end, and I look at my parents, smiling through happy tears. “I love you both so much.”
I get a hug from both sides, and I am overwhelmed with a feeling of contentment. There is such a deep and abiding power found in family.
It makes me think of Captain, who had had that stolen from him as a young man. Although he has shared that his father disowned him, Captain has shared very little else about his past. I hope, with time, he will learn to trust me and open up.
However, I’m not just curious about his father. I want to know what happened with his mother and brother when he returned home wounded, still fighting for his life. Plus, there’s the mystery man named Grapes. What role did he play in Captain’s life?
I look at my father. The gratitude I feel for him is so intense, it almost hurts. “Thank you for always loving and supporting me, Dad.”
“How could I not?” he answers. “You’re my daughter.”
I turn my head and tell Mom, “Thank you for not giving in to the darkness. I couldn’t bear to ever lose you.”
Mom’s lips tremble slightly when she smiles. Her tender gaze moves from me to Dad. “Your father is my hero. He’s never given up on me. Never stopped loving me through all of the years of depression and meds.”
“You’re my Irish Rose, Katherine. I would do anything for you,” he tells her.
Their love is the kind of love I feel for Captain. That’s why I am determined to convince that man to collar me.
I glance at my phone, worried that I haven’t heard from him yet. Normally, Captain is quick to answer.
“Hey, Mom, why don’t you pick the next movie?”
The twinkle I see in her eye makes me smile. I haven’t seen that spark in a very long time…
Karma
Captain
Returning home, I immediately take off my uniform. I hang the jacket back up in the very back of the closet, unsure if I will ever have an occasion to wear it again—at least, until the day they bury my corpse in the ground.
I look down at the cluster of grapes tattooed on my wrist. It’s hard to believe how many years it’s been since Grapes died. I feel a rush of emotion, remembering the day he was laid to rest. I am instantly transported back to that time.
Soon after receiving the long-awaited news that Grapes’ remains had finally been located and recovered from a mass grave, I was told they were being transported back to the U.S. Unfortunately, his family refused to accept his body, so arrangements were made for him to be buried with a military honors service in the Los Angeles National Cemetery.
Although I am thoroughly disgusted by his parents’ response, I’m also secretly grateful for the decision to bury him in Los Angeles. I need a physical location to mourn my friend.
It is a place I visit often…
Knowing the volatile history Grapes had with his family, I send a letter to his parents. In that letter, I not only list his many accomplishments during his distinguished military career, I also share who Grapes was as a man, because it seems his family never knew him.
He told me that when he was growing up, his mother reminded him on a daily basis that she wished he’d never been born, and his father took it one step further by physically torturing him for being a burden to them.
Somehow, despite the horrific childhood he suffered, Grapes was able to transcend his piss-poor upbringing and become a man of honor. I wanted—no I needed—them to know that they hadn’t broken him.
/> I end the letter detailing the date and time of his burial. In my eyes, it’s the last chance they have to redeem themselves.
I dress in full uniform to attend his graveside service. Not one of his family comes and attendance is small because most of the men who knew him well died on the battlefield with him that same day. That weighs heavy on my soul.
Grapes receives military honors, and I take comfort in the tradition, hearing the honor guard firing the three volleys from their rifles, along with the forlorn rendition of “Taps” and the ceremonial folding of the flag.
Because none of his kin are present, I am handed the flag that covered his coffin and told, “On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Army, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for Warrant Officer Bell’s honorable and faithful service.”
My throat clenches up, making it impossible to speak, but I nod as I take the flag from the man.
I go home that day angry that his parents never paid him the slightest amount of respect, not even in death. I find, as time goes on, that I become more and more incensed.
There comes a point when I can no longer let what happened to Grapes go. I’ve become obsessed, and I have to do something—not only in retribution for Grapes, but for my own sanity.
I make a personal trip to his hometown and head directly to the house where Grapes grew up. I’m not surprised to find the house lacks any evidence of upkeep or care.
I walk to the door and knock hard.
I hear voices inside, but no one comes to answer the door, so I knock again with more urgency.
Finally, a burst of foul language erupts as an angry man on the other side of the door slowly makes his way over to open it. He takes his time undoing the lock, before opening the door just a crack and peeking through the screen door.
“Oh, my God,” he shouts behind him. “It’s another one of them in a monkey suit, but this one is messed up.”
To me he says, “Why don’t you military fuckers leave us the hell alone?” He slams the door on me before I can reply.
That’s okay, I decide.
I don’t need to speak.
I head back to my car and lay out a set of civilian clothes from my suitcase. Driving to the nearest gas station, I change in the restroom. I don’t want to represent the Army knowing what I’m about to do.
Returning to the house, I knock again. I’m there a full ten minutes, hitting the door with my fists, before he finally answers again.
I already have the screen door open, so as soon as he opens the door a crack, I push against it, causing it to swing wide open.
He stands there, sputtering, while a scrawny woman rushes to the door with a baseball bat clutched in her hands, and threatens me.
“Get far away from us, mister!” She raises the wooden bat as if to strike me.
I ignore her, glaring at the man with disdain, “If it were legal, I would do to you what you did to your own son as a child. But, what you did isn’t legal, and you should be in jail.”
The woman spits at me angrily. “Adam got what he deserved. That little fuck was nothing but a troublemaker.”
The man beside her snorts with amusement. “And now that worthless piece of shit is less than nothing. He’s fucking dirt.”
I only see red.
Cocking my fist back, I let him have it square in the nose. The man squawks like a bird as his hands fly up to his face.
I watch as his nose begins spurting large amounts of blood, much to my satisfaction.
“That fucker broke my nose! The one-eyed monkey just broke my nose!”
The rush of blood pounds in my head as my rage builds but, somewhere deep within, I feel a check in my spirit. It is the only thing that stops me from totally going off on the man.
Instead, I forced myself to take a step back, not trusting myself. “Adam Bell was the finest man I ever knew, and he was my best friend.” My voice strains with emotion as I speak the truth. “I thank God he walked away from you two. You aren’t fit to lick his boots.”
The woman howls in anger, trying to take a swing at me with her bat, but I easily pull it from her grasp and throw it to the floor.
“I’m calling the cops!” the man shouts between his bloody hands.
“Do,” I challenge, certain he won’t. “I suspect pressing burning cigarettes into the skin of a child isn’t the only law you’ve broken.”
“Motherfucker!” he cries, charging me.
I dart out of the way and gave him a push as he passes by. The man tumbles off his broken porch and lands face first in the dirt.
The woman screeches in rage, but I turn to her with my fists in the air. “I have no qualms about hitting abusive mothers.”
She hesitates for a moment, choosing to rush past me to grab her husband, who is floundering in the dirt. She starts dragging him back toward the house, looking at me warily.
“You should have made amends with your son when he was still alive.”
She stares at me for a moment, but says nothing before she disappears into the house.
“You’re just a one-eyed fuck,” the man growls as his wife lets go of him and he stumbles into the doorway.
I see the perfect opportunity and can’t pass it up…
“I hope to hell karma bites you in the ass,” I say as I plant my boot on his butt and push.
I walk away, listening to their violent curses. I don’t know how Grapes ever survived these two, but I look up at the sky and smile.
“That last part? That was for you, buddy.”
I hang up my slacks, sliding them to the back beside the jacket, before shutting the closet door. I feel a sense of regret. Had things gone according to plan, Candy would be here now, wearing her pretty new collar around her neck.
Instead, I am here alone, but by my own choice.
I wander aimlessly through the house, contemplating my next plan of action.
I personally believe it’s best to end things with Candy now, because it would allow her to move on, and I feel for both our sakes that the sooner that happens, the better.
However, I loathe the idea of breaking her heart, and I know if I leave her, she will never understand.
I curse fate for the thirty-six years between us.
But, I know it is foolish to dwell on things I cannot change. So, here I am, faced with a difficult dilemma.
Do I break Candy’s heart now or do I allow her to break mine later?
Fate
Candy
After a quick dinner, the three of us settle in for another movie. It begins with a scene of a man ringing a bell for the Salvation Army.
“Hey, that reminds me of that man who came by earlier today.”
I look at my mom questioningly. “What man?”
“A wounded warrior who came by to collect money for the charity,” my dad answers.
Goosebumps rise on my skin, but I try to sound nonchalant when I ask him, “What do you mean?”
My mother answers for him. “There was this poor military guy with an eye patch who came to your door. You’ll be pleased to know your father gave a generous amount.”
“Of course. We gladly support our military and I was more than happy to give,” my dad states proudly.
I feel the blood drain from my face.
I wasn’t imagining things when I smelled Captain’s cologne. I want to die, imagining the humiliation he must have felt when my parent answered the door and tried to give him money.
It suddenly strikes me that he must have been wearing his uniform for them to know he was part of the military. I swallow hard. That could only mean one thing…
I slap my hands to my face, dragging them down in frustration.
Whatever he wanted was extremely important. Was he going to collar me?
“Mom. Dad. I have to go,” I tell them, jumping off the couch.
“What? You have to be kidding, sweetie. We have the entire night planned,” my mother sa
ys, laughing.
“It has something to do with that man who came to the door, doesn’t it?” my Dad says. “We were mistaken about him.”
I only nod vigorously, unwilling to waste another second. “I’ll explain everything, but I need to leave—now.”
“But, sweetheart, the movie already started. Surely, it can wait just a couple of hours,” my mother begs.
“No, it can’t, Mom. This most definitely can’t wait.”
My dad can tell how concerned I am and tells me, “C, if we upset the man in any way, please tell him it was unintentional.”
I close my eyes, just imagining the mortifying scene playing out in my mind.
Poor Captain…
I definitely can’t get there soon enough, so I race toward the door with just my purse, telling them, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“But, Cleo!” my mom protests.
“Let her be, Katherine,” my dad scolds her gently. “I think we made a mess of things.”
I wipe away the tears and race to his house. I can’t help wondering if Captain came to present me with a collar. Why else would he come dressed in his uniform?
And…how was he greeted? Oh, my goodness!
I know my parents meant well, but I cannot begin to fathom what went through Captain’s head when they answered the door and threw cash at him.
No wonder he hasn’t been answering my calls…
Once I pull up to his home, I see right away that none of the lights are on, but that doesn’t stop me from ringing his doorbell and knocking repeatedly.
“Please, please, please answer…” I cry.
Finally, I have to accept that he isn’t home, but I’m desperate to find him.
It’s imperative.
I know he has been spending more time with Baron lately and pin my hopes on the belief that that’s where he is.
Without bothering to call, I head to Baron’s apartment. If Captain is there, after the humiliation he just faced at the hands of my parents, I don’t want to chance him slipping out the back to avoid talking to me.
I pull up and jump out of my car, literally running to the door. I start ringing the doorbell, and I’m still gasping for breath when Baron answers.