Chapter One: Wyatt

I fucking hated November third.

The harsh thought bounced off the walls of my head and seemed to echo across the empty cemetery. The angry thought remained private though.

My mom and I were visiting his grave.

We stood in front of his headstone, staring down at the slab of rock that was supposed to represent his life. Instead, it only represented his absence.

A small American flag whipped back and forth in the wind, creating a steady rhythm to which we could mark our grief.

November third arrived too soon every year.

It would always be the worst day of the year.

Five years had passed since my father died and it still felt like yesterday. This year, my mom didn’t cry. We visited the grave and said our obligatory prayers. I took a short walk so my mom could speak to him alone. I did this with her every year, but I never understood why. Part of me knew it was just a way to make her feel better, that it helped her feel close to him. A bigger part of me thought it was a giant waste of time. What was the point of talking to a rock?

He wasn’t there.

Still, it was a nice change to visit the cemetery and not have to support my sobbing mom back to the car. She didn’t shed a single tear. She was just quiet through the whole thing.

Something had clicked inside of her a few months ago. I could tell the difference immediately. She still felt his loss in her soul, but it no longer crippled her daily life. She finally found a sense of peace.

I was happy for her, I really was. I just would have been happier if we could stop our yearly visits all together. For me, it never got easier to look at his name on that headstone.

Anderson Wyatt Murphy

It was bold and large. Because he was one of the newer residents in the Bradberry cemetery, his headstone stood out among the rest. While others were beginning to fade, his name could be read from fifty yards away.

Every time I laid eyes on it, I was forced to remember him in ways I didn’t want to. I could still see the coffin they unloaded off that plane. There was an American flag laid across it. My mom still had that flag, folded tightly in a memory box in her bedroom.

He died in combat, thousands of miles away from home. Mom and I didn’t get to say goodbye. He was just gone. It almost killed us both, but while my mom retreated into herself for years after, I did the opposite.

At the time of my father’s death, I was pre-med. I had almost finished my Bachelor’s degree and I was getting ready to take the MCAT. Medical school was right around the corner, but all of that changed when my dad died. My entire life plan was thrown out the window and I knew there was only one thing I could do.

Enlist.

I joined the Army as a medic and spent four years serving my country. It was the best and worst four years of my life.

I flew around the world.

I helped people.

I saved lives.

But I was also reminded every day that no one was around to save my dad. If I had been a medic back then, would I have been able to keep him alive? If I had been there, if I had gotten to him fast enough, would he still be here?

Four years in the Army didn’t do anything to squash those thoughts.

When my time was up, I moved back home and tried to reemerge myself in the Bradberry way of life, but it was no use. I was no longer the same person who left Bradberry four years earlier. I was now the guy who came home twice a year to see my mom through the difficult days: the anniversary of my father’s death and Christmas. Other than that, I managed to stay far away from the small town I used to call home.

By the time November third rolled around again, I had been home for six months. I took my mom to the cemetery to honor my father’s five years in the ground and then we went home.

She barely spoke two words to me on the way home. When we walked through the front door, she went straight to the kitchen and sat down at the table.

I followed her, sure that she wanted me to. I sat beside her and looked at her gently. Despite my lack of patience with our annual visits, I knew my mom was fragile and that it was my job to take care of her. With my dad gone, I was the only person she had left.

“This came in the mail for you,” my mom said with a faint smile. She pushed a thin envelope across the table toward me. “I didn’t know you applied again.”

I looked down at the envelope and saw the UConn School of Medicine symbol on the top left-hand corner. My heart skipped a beat as I looked back at my mom. She was right, I hadn’t told her I applied to medical school for the second time. I wasn’t sure how she would take the news of me leaving again, but when I saw her face, she was smiling at me.

“I was going to tell you,” I said. “I just…”

I trailed off and a small silence reigned until she broke it.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Just open it.”

“Okay.” I nodded and took a deep breath. Sliding my finger under the lip of the envelope, I felt like my entire life was either about to begin or end. I didn’t know which, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to find out.

When I tore open the envelope I automatically reached inside and grabbed the piece of paper. It was just one piece, small and folded in three. I unfolded it and laid it flat on the table, my eyes scanning the words quickly.

It took a few seconds for me to process what I read.

Dear Mr. Murphy,

Thank you for your application, we are happy to inform you…

Once I did, I looked at my mom with a wide smile and nodded silently.

Mom squealed and jumped to her feet. She ran around the table and threw her arms around me.

“Oh honey!” she cried. “I’m so proud of you! You’re going to be a doctor!”

“I guess it’s official now,” I said softly. “I’m going to med school.”

My mom squealed with delight and let go of my neck. She smoothed down my hair and looked at me with her eyes full of tears. She hadn’t cried at the cemetery that day, but seeing my acceptance letter to medical school was enough to send her over the edge. The tears spilled down her cheeks and she closed her eyes for a minute. With her hand to her chest, she breathed slowly and I knew exactly what she was thinking.

“He would be so proud of you,” she said as she opened her eyes again. I didn’t want to talk about my father in that moment, I just wanted to be happy.

“Thanks,” I said shortly, looking away from her. I focused my attention on the letter and smiled.

“When do classes start?” My mom asked. “Does it say?”

“No,” I shook my head. “They’re sending a larger package in the next few days with all the details. It’ll have the course catalogue and the dates of when I can sign up for classes online.”

“Oh, this is just so exciting!” she said. “We’re going to have a real doctor in the family!”

I smiled and watched her excitement build. She raced around the kitchen, grabbing her cellphone. I knew she couldn’t resist calling all the neighbors and filling them in on the good news. In a town like Bradberry, everybody knew everyone’s business the minute it happened. I was surprised she waited a whole ten minutes before sending up the flare.

I knew she was just proud of me and that she wanted to brag, but it was still slightly embarrassing. After all, when I enlisted in the Army, she didn’t rush out to tell all her friends. She didn’t really do anything but stare at me blankly while I repeated myself twelve times.

When she finally registered my words, she was overcome with so much emotion that she didn’t speak to me for a week. It wasn’t until my last day at home that she hugged me and told me that she understood. She whispered that she loved me and that was it. I walked out the door and we never discussed my decision again.

Now that I was home and safe, her bragging abilities were back in full swing. I sat at the kitchen table and listened while she made phone call after phone call. She never stayed on the phone too long, always ending it with, “Well, I gotta go! I’ve got more people to call, but I wanted you to know! We’re just so happy over here!”

Then would she hang up and immediately dial the next number.

By the fourth call, I hoped she would run out of numbers soon. I knew that was wishful thinking though. She would be on the phone all afternoon.

With a small wave, I walked out onto the front porch, my acceptance letter in hand. I sat down on the porch swing and reread the letter three more times. I wanted to make the words sink in. This had been my dream for as long as I could remember.

My mind drifted to the past and the memories swirled around my head.

When I started college, going pre-med was the only option. I always knew I wanted to be a doctor and my time in the Army only served to solidify that wish. As a medic, I learned more than four years in a classroom could ever teach me.

I knew I was ready for whatever was thrown at me.

As I imagined what medical school would be like, I thought back to my undergrad years. It felt like a different life, those four years at the local college. Almost everyone from Bradberry went there, if they even went to college at all. I never considered going somewhere else. I graduated high school and enrolled in pre-med classes the very next week.

I loved college. I was fucking great at it. I studied hard and partied harder. I could outdrink most of the football team and they all loved to see me do it. Most of the kids there had known each other since elementary school, so we all got along well.

There were only a few people I didn’t automatically know on sight, and Hailey was one of them.

Hailey Clarke drew my attention the very first time I laid eyes on her. We were in a Biology class and I sat down beside her. It was her major and a requirement for mine, so we both took the class more seriously than most. We quickly became study partners, then friends, then more.

I could still picture the small bird tattoo she had on her shoulder. Whenever I thought about it, I remembered what it felt like to kiss that spot.

As I held onto my acceptance letter, Hailey drifted in and out of my mind. We were together when my father passed and everything changed. I left for the Army and I moved on, but Hailey always found a way to pop back in my head from time to time. When I was overseas on a long night, I would picture her face. The next morning would arrive and I would be ready to face the day. Hailey was my secret good luck charm, the little memory I carried around in my pocket and pulled out whenever I needed it.

I reread the letter for a fourth time and sighed. As I folded it up, I immediately thought about telling Hailey. Even after years of silence, I knew she would be happy for me. Hailey was the one who helped me study for the MCAT. She pulled more all-nighters for me than she did for herself.

I thought about calling her, but I knew I couldn’t. I didn’t even know where she was now.

Or if she wanted to hear from me.

We didn’t part on good terms and it was all my fault.

I decided not to dwell on that fact and how much it fucking hurt to let her go.

I let thoughts of how we met consume me instead.